“Technically?”
“Ted didn’t want much surveillance. He has a home security system, and that was all he wanted. He didn’t have a security detail assigned to the house.” Briggs stood. “Well, I’ve got a meeting and I know you have one, too.”
“Right,” Lydia said. She wondered if Ted had his and Cici’s house bugged.
“So I hear you’ve got a new script going into production?” Briggs said, walking toward the door.
“
Vitriol
. A sexual thriller,” Lydia said.
“New director?”
“From London.”
“Celeste starring?”
“With Holden Humphrey.”
“That’s quite a cast. You’ll get me all the director’s info once the deal closes,” Briggs said.
“You might have it, or the marketing department does. He did photography for
California Girl
.”
“That guy’s directing now?” Briggs asked.
“You know him?”
“Mr. Robinoff mentioned that Celeste disliked him.”
“And you remember that?” Lydia asked.
“Lydia, I get paid a lot of money to remember everything. Details are the key to my business. I’m surprised Celeste agreed to work with him.”
A tiny knot of anger formed in Lydia’s chest. Life would be so much easier if she could tell Briggs about the DVD and enlist the studio security team’s help. Trying to keep a secret like this was foolish.
“Cici likes the script, and I like the script. There isn’t any way around working with Nathan—he controls the material and he wants to direct,” Lydia said.
“And the writer?”
“Uninvolved and soon to be rewritten. Business Affairs is checking, but it seems Nathan purchased the script outright.”
“You’ll keep me informed? Mr. Robinoff wants us to pay close attention to Celeste and her security right now.”
“Any reason why?”
“Well, the letters that you received for one.”
“So Ted knows?”
“Lydia, I report directly to Ted.”
“And what else?” Lydia asked.
“What else?”
“You said there was something about which Ted is concerned.”
“I’m not the only one who keeps track of details,” Briggs said. “Well, he hasn’t been specific yet. I’m sure I’ll get more information when he returns from Asia. We’ve increased surveillance of their home.”
“And Cici knows?”
“Lydia, that’s between Mr. Robinoff and Ms. Solange. I just do what the man asks.”
“Don’t we all,” Lydia said.
“I’ll come by again when I’ve got more information.”
Lydia watched Briggs exit her office. She inhaled and shut her eyes. She tried to force away the feeling of dread that had settled around her. Increased security? Increased surveillance? Both could mean that there were cameras in Cici’s house, or that Worldwide security had tapped Cici’s phones. Lydia rubbed her forehead. The only way to save Cici’s relationship and Lydia’s job would be if Cici told Ted about her sex tape.
*
Wooing a star required fortitude. And wooing a star as temperamental as Steven Brockman demanded fortitude, patience, and a private jet. Lydia rested her head against the leather headrest in Worldwide’s Citation jet. She was flying all the way to Tokyo just to get a meeting with Steven Brockman.
She’d land, meet him for dinner; and then return to L.A. It was an insane turnaround. But she wanted Steven—no—needed Steven to star in
Vitriol
, and she realized that to persuade Steven to accept the part she must fly to Tokyo, to stroke Steven’s ego. Let him know that, yes, only Steven Brockman could successfully play this role.
Lydia felt the impossibility of winning this battle. So far she had an average script, a new director, and an older actor in denial about his age. She was prepared to meet Steven’s full quote and even give him a tiny bump. Financially,
Vitriol
would be a good gig for him. Besides, after Lydia had helped Kiki handle the debacle on Steven’s last Worldwide film, he owed Lydia.
The whole affair was unpleasant. Lydia never asked from whom or how Briggs Montgomery secured photos of Steven’s blackmailer with an underage boy. But the photos had forced the guy to keep quiet. This—keeping messy situations away from the public—was part of his job. Life would be easier if she could simply confer with Briggs, but Lydia had promised Cici, and she’d keep to their agreement as long as things didn’t become dangerous.
Her head bounced as the Citation’s tires hit the runway.
“Welcome to Tokyo,” the flight attendant said.
*
Everything in Tokyo was expensive, but the Imperial Hotel Tokyo was off the charts, even by Lydia’s standards. Huge fees and outrageous perks were standard procedure for Japanese corporations, which paid exorbitant amounts for American A-list celebrities to do print work and commercials. Though it was almost unheard of in the States unless an A-lister’s career was in trouble, it was fairly common for stars to jet to Japan, get treated like royalty, and make a couple extra million doing a commercial and some photos.
Steven had reserved a private dining room at Les Saisons, the five-star restaurant at the Imperial Hotel Tokyo. Lydia followed behind the hostess as she swept Lydia into a large room with an intimate table … for three?
Of course, Steven wouldn’t make such an important decision without Billy. Steven’s constant companion for the last seven years, Billy was consulted on every decision the megastar made.
While she waited, Lydia appraised the handwritten menu lying on her plate. Steven had preselected their courses, their wine, and even their dessert. Lydia calculated the bill Worldwide would receive next week for this extravagant meal and sighed. Another part of the price the studio paid to woo stars.
“Lydia, you look lovely,” she heard Steven say before she saw him. His entrance was grand: He was barefoot and wrapped in a white Versace suit.
Billy followed Steven and once beside the table leaned forward and gave Lydia a quick peck on the cheek. Ten years Steven’s junior, Billy was an exotic-looking man with black hair and dark eyes. He was stunning in a Rudolph Valentino sort of way. He always seemed to look through people. Billy went to the heart of every matter and said exactly what he thought. Prior to his involvement with Billy, Steven often danced around issues, never letting anyone know exactly what he wanted. Although their life together was a secret from the world, ironically, Billy gave Steven the ability to tell people the truth.
“I went ahead and preselected our meal,” Steven said. He placed his napkin into his lap. “Hope you don’t mind. And Billy chose the wine.”
Lydia glanced at Billy, who lit a cigarette.
“It all looks fabulous,” she said. An army of waiters appeared, set down plates, and poured wine.
“What time do you need to leave?” Steven asked.
“Whenever you’re ready for me to go,” Lydia said, giving Steven her best president of production smile.
She noticed Steven give Billy a quick look across the table.
“Good answer,” Billy said in his sultry smoker’s voice.
“So, I read the script,” Steven said.
At most of her dinners, business talk was reserved for dessert and coffee.
“And Billy read the script, too—”
“—and we both think
Vitriol
is really ho-hum,” Billy said, finishing Steven’s sentence. “What’s the rush on this one, Lydia? I mean, really, why are you pushing so hard?”
“I feel this project in my gut,” Lydia lied. “The public wants to see Steven and Cici together again.”
“You’re the second person to tell me that this week,” Steven bit into his ahi tuna tartar.
“Lydia, for Steven to start playing the older man is a big jump. Once he goes older, it’s impossible for him to return to younger roles.”
“Perhaps. But he’d be doing this for all the right reasons. A great part, a stellar cast, and he gets the girl. At the very least he can use the actors he’s working with as an excuse as to why he agreed to play the more mature role. And personally, I think the more mature male lead is a more interesting character than Holden’s. Wouldn’t you agree?” Lydia asked. She spoke to Billy. If she wanted Steven, Lydia realized, she needed to convince Billy.
Billy nodded his head almost imperceptibly. “I agree.”
“The best thing is that even though it’s a more mature role, Steven’s character is still a virile, sexual man. And isn’t that the fundamental component to longevity in this business? Aging while remaining sexy to the audience?”
Billy cracked a smile and glanced at Steven. “Oh, he’s always sexy.”
“But what about this director, Lydia? I worked with him on a photo shoot, and he’s a real dick,” Steven said. “Made me look like my father. We hated those photos.”
Billy frowned a little but didn’t disagree.
“I’ll admit he’s a little cocky,” Lydia said, lying again. She’d yet to meet Nathan, but his terrible attitude was already something she was hearing about from everyone. “But he owns the script, and his reel is good.”
“So, Worldwide is just giving away features to first-time directors? I have a script, Lydia. Want to make it your next film?” Billy asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
Lydia gave them the hard sell. “Listen, I follow my gut, always have. And so far I’ve managed to earn over three billion in box-office ticket sales. My gut tells me Worldwide needs this film. But to make it complete, to make
Vitriol
the film that I want it to be, I need you.” Lydia looked at Steven. “The only way I can make this film. Steven, the only person who can play this role is you. No other actor has the gravitas necessary for this character. You can make him real. You and your talent will allow the audience to see beyond the limitations of the director. Your character is the linchpin on which the whole piece rests, and that’s why it can only be you.” Lydia rested her hand on Steven’s arm.
She was laying the compliments on thick. Too thick? No. From the look on Steven’s face, he was devouring her praise.
Steven sighed. “Well, what do you think?” He looked at Billy.
“She’s good,” Billy said. He stubbed out his cigarette and finally took a bite of his food. “Really good.” He paused. “Well, why not, if we can make a deal.”
“Oh, we’ll make a deal,” Lydia said.
“Maybe. But Lydia, there are a few extra demands,” Steven said and winked at Billy.
*
Lydia rode in the back of the Town Car. Exhaustion settled heavy in each of her limbs. As if a bag of wet cement were strapped to her back. She wasn’t certain what day it was. Toddy said Friday, but Lydia’s body vacillated between Wednesday morning and Saturday evening. Jay sat in the front seat with her driver.
She landed two hours before, and now was on her way to meet Nathan Curtis, the infamous prick and the person who, Cici and Jessica speculated, had written Lydia’s letters. Lydia wasn’t convinced that Nathan was the author. The letters, to Lydia, seemed too personal to be about only Cici and her films.
The Worldwide guard waved them through the studio gates and onto the lot. “Ms. Albright,” her driver asked, “the bungalow or the office?”
“The bungalow first,” Lydia said.
The car pulled into her spot in front of her production offices. Longing filled her—want. Unlike her fancy office filled with glass and chrome in the executive tower, Lydia’s bungalow on Worldwide’s lot was small and quaint. It had just enough room for three offices, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and a conference room. Christina, Zymar’s daughter and a VP at Lydia’s production company, was already there, and Mary Anne’s Mercedes was parked in front of the bungalow too. Jessica was right behind Lydia’s car and waved as she pulled her Range Rover in beside them. Parked in the guest spot was a Lamborghini convertible. Could that be Nathan’s car?
Jay climbed from the front seat as Lydia stepped out from the back. “I’m going to be outside the conference room,” he said. “You know we’ve got a couple of mics and a camera in there?”
Lydia did know but had forgotten. Briggs told her they were going to wire her bungalow and her office at Worldwide. As a precaution, he said, so if her mystery caller telephoned on a hard line they might get the voice. Briggs wanted to wire her house, too, but Lydia had absolutely refused. Her home was still her private domain.
Lydia stood at the bungalow door waiting for Jessica.
“You look like you partied all night,” Jessica said.
“Los Angeles to Tokyo, dinner with Steven, then Tokyo to L.A. in seventy-two hours. A real all-nighter.”
“Commercial carrier?”
“No. Can you imagine?”
“Today is Friday,” Jessica said and followed Lydia into the bungalow.
“Thanks, Toddy told me.”
Jessica leaned forward and whispered into Lydia’s ear. “I see you still have the bruiser following you.”
“It’s a status thing, purely for show,” Lydia tried to joke.
“Everywhere?”
“Except the shower.”
Jessica appraised Jay from head to toe. “Not sure, but I think that is where I’d like him most.”
“Zymar said no.”
Lydia crossed through reception and opened her bungalow office door. Here, amongst the cranberry reds and deep browns, the overstuffed couches and bookcases full of scripts, was where Lydia felt most comfortable.
“Where’s Zymar?” Jessica asked.
“He’s on his way in right now. I offered to give him a ride, but he wanted his Harley. How’s post on
Collusion
?”
“Good. I’ll go by after this. We’ll have a rough cut in six weeks,” Jessica said.
“With Zymar that means two. He overestimates post; a little director’s trick of his so he can wow everyone.” Lydia tossed her Bottega bag on the chair inside her office door. She glanced longingly at her overstuffed couch. She wanted to lie down and close her eyes and block out the entire world, but instead she pulled the office door closed behind her. She and Jessica walked toward the conference room.
“What did Billy decide?” Jessica asked. Everyone in town knew that Billy made all the decisions for Steven.
“They said yes. But it’s an expensive yes.”
“Does it come from the budget?”
“He wants Viève Dyson to play the female lead.”