Temptation (22 page)

I nodded.

‘And once again,’ Brad said, ‘I want both you and Alison to know that we are completely behind you on this. We will not abandon you.’

‘That’s very touching, Brad,’ Alison said dryly, ‘and I hope I never have to quote that promise back to you.’

‘We
are
going to fight this,’ Tracy said, ‘but in a way that doesn’t seem either aggressive or defensive. The idea is to close down any further lines of argument – or inquiry – by issuing a statement in which David admits accidental culpability . . . ’

‘Good phrase,’ Robison said.

‘. . . but in which he also doesn’t prostrate himself. The tone is going to be very important. So too is the tone you bring to the interview with Craig Clark.’

‘Do you think he’ll be sympathetic?’ Brad asked her.

‘First and foremost, he’s an entertainment journalist. And a story like this . . . well, my hope is that he has enough insight into the business to understand how something like this could unwittingly happen. At the same time, he’s not a malicious creep like McCall. We’ll be giving him exclusive access to David, and he does love the show. So let’s hope that he decides this story is a sidebar, nothing more.’

We spent the next hour working on the FRT statement – in which the company acknowledged that I had inadvertently
transposed a few lines from
The Front Page
into my script, that I greatly regretted this ‘undevised error’ (Tracy’s words, not mine), and had been genuinely appalled when it was pointed out to me. There was a quote from Bob Robison stating that he fully accepted my explanation for the ‘transposition’, and that they completely supported me – to the extent that, as widely reported in the entertainment press last month, they had just signed me for the next series of
Selling You.
(It was Alison who insisted that they put this line in the press release – just to remind everyone they weren’t just sticking by me, but would continue to ‘further our relationship’.)

Finally, there was a quote from me, in which I sounded contrite as hell, but also genuinely bemused as to how this could have happened in the first place:

‘Writers are like sponges – they soak everything up, and then recycle it all again . . . sometimes without even realizing it. Certainly this was the case with the four lines of dialogue from
The Front Page
which managed to end up in an episode last season of
Selling You
. I’ll admit it:
The Front Page
is one of my favorite plays, and one which I acted in during college. But that was in l980, and I haven’t seen or read it since then. How then did a handful of Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur’s peerless lines find their way into my script? I honestly don’t know. That doesn’t excuse this accidental transposition [Tracy’s words again] – which has caused me acute embarrassment, as it would any writer. I have never intentionally used another writer’s words. This is a once-off error – and all I can plead is mental misadventure; pulling a joke out of the jumbled filing cabinet of my brain, and not remembering where I’d heard it in the first place.’

We talked at length about this confessional statement. Bob Robison wanted it to be a flat out
mea culpa
(well, he is a Catholic). Alison wanted me to strike a quasi-apologetic, yet still defiant pose – pointing out that this was small beer . . . and, for God sakes, don’t other people’s jokes always end up in other people’s material? But it was Tracy who encouraged me to balance contrition with wit.

‘This is also the tone you need to strike with Craig Clark,’ Tracy said after we finished writing my quote. Sorry, embarrassed, yet also ‘ironically knowing’ . . . whatever that meant.

As it turned out, Craig Clark was decent enough for a journalist. After ushering the others out of Bob’s office, Tracy discreetly sat in a corner while Craig fired questions at me. He was in his early forties – slightly stocky, slightly harassed in demeanor, but wholly professional and (I was relieved to discover) relatively sympathetic.

‘Let me say from the outset that I’m a huge fan of
Selling You
.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘I really do think it’s a breakthrough in television comedy; a total original. Which is why this . . . uh . . . disclosure must be so hard for you. Just to kick things off, can I ask you this: do you think most writers at one time or another have accidentally borrowed someone else’s lines?’

Praise the Lord! The guy was in my corner. He didn’t want to eviscerate me, or to wreck my career. He asked a couple of tough questions – about whether even an accidental crib was a forgivable offense (to which I replied, ‘No – it’s not,’ in the hope that the
I’m making no excuses for myself
approach would impress him), and if I deserved severe censuring from my fellow writers (‘Probably,’ I said,
maintaining the
I’ll take my punishment like a man
tone). I also made him laugh – saying that if I had to accidentally borrow from something, thank God it was
The Front Page
and not
Gilligan’s Island
. I also said that, as penance, I was going to write the next Jackie Chan movie. In short, I seemed to strike the
okay sorry, but this isn’t a federal offense
tone which Tracy wanted from me. At the end of our twenty minutes (Tracy let it overrun, as Clark appeared to be enjoying himself), he shook my hand and said, ‘Well, I do hope this turns out to be a minor glitch on your career chart.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘And I really appreciate the thoughtful interview.’

‘You gave good copy.’

I reached into my pocket and took out a little notebook, and wrote my home and cellphone numbers on a page. Then I tore it out and handed it to him.

‘If you need to ask me a few more questions, just give me a ring at either of those numbers. And once all this dust has settled . . . maybe we can have a beer.’

‘That would be great,’ he said, pocketing the paper. ‘I . . . uh . . . have written a couple of spec television comedy scripts . . . ’

‘Let’s talk.’

He shook my hand again. ‘You’re on,’ he said.

Tracy opened the door for him and said, ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

As soon as they were gone, Alison came back into the office.

‘Tracy gave me the thumbs up on the way out. You happy with how it played?’

I shrugged. ‘Right now, I feel numb.’

‘You’re about to feel even number. While I was sitting in your office, Jennifer took a call from Sally. She said it was urgent.’

Oh, wonderful. She’d found out . . . before I had a chance to tell her.

I went to my office and called Sally. Her assistant put me straight through. Her first words were, ‘I’m stunned by this.’

‘Darling, can I –’

‘And what’s hurt me the most is the fact that I found all this out second hand.’

‘But I only found out myself just before seven.’

‘You should have called me immediately.’

‘But I knew you were doing breakfast with Stu.’

‘I would have taken your call.’

‘And the thing was, I had to race straight down here, and I’ve been in crisis meetings ever since, not to mention an interview with some guy from
Variety
.’

‘
Variety
knows already?’ she said, sounding anxious.

‘Yeah – but Tracy Weiss, the head of PR here, got a call last night from this journo who writes for
Variety
and she decided . . . ’

‘So she knew about this last night . . . ’

‘Yes, but,
believe me,
I was only told this morning. And to get our side of the story out, she decided to offer this hack an exclusive with me . . . ’

‘It’s in tomorrow’s
Daily Variety?
’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And have FRT issued a statement?’

‘Yeah – with a contrite quote from me.’

‘You’ll get them to email it to me?’

‘Of course, darling. But please, don’t go all cold and professional on me. I need you right now.’

‘If you needed me, you should have called me immediately. I am supposed to be the love of your life.’

‘You know you are. It’s just . . . oh Christ, Sally, this is just a little overwhelming.’

‘Can you imagine what it was like for me . . . to be shown that
Hollywood Legit
column by some minor minion from our press office, and to be told “What a shame about your guy” . . . and not to know a thing about it.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m . . . ’

I broke off, suddenly feeling steamrollered by everything.

‘David . . . ?’

‘Yeah . . . ’

‘You all right?’

‘No. I am definitely not all right.’

‘Now I feel terrible . . . ’

‘You know how much I adore you . . . ’ I said.

‘And you know how much I adore you. It’s just . . . ’

‘You’re right, you’re right. I should have called. But everything went chaotic. And . . . ’

‘You don’t have to explain. I overreacted. But I was just so upset. And, I mean, it does look very bad. It was accidental, wasn’t it?’

‘It certainly wasn’t premeditated.’

‘Well, that’s something. And you’re certain . . . ?’

Here came that question again – the one everybody needed to ask me.

‘Believe me, that’s the only time someone else’s lines have ended up in a script of mine.’

‘Of course, I believe you, darling. And because it’s a one-off, it will be forgiven and forgotten.’

‘I am not an intentional plagiarist,’ I said, sounding vehement.

‘I know that. Within a week, it will be old news.’

‘I hope to hell you’re right.’

‘I’m always right,’ she said lightly, and I laughed for the first time since waking up.

‘You know what would be great?’ I said. ‘A long boozy lunch with you. I think I need a martini anaesthetic fast.’

‘Darling, you know I’m back off to Seattle this afternoon . . . ’

‘I’d forgotten that.’

‘It’s that new series of ours . . . ’

‘Fine, fine.’

‘But I will be back first thing Saturday. And I will call lots.’

‘Good.’

‘It’s going to be okay, David.’

After the call, I poked my head out of the office. Alison was sitting behind Jennifer’s desk, working the phones. I nodded towards her to come in to the office. She finished her call and walked in, closing the door behind her.

‘So how did that go?’ she asked me.

‘She was eventually supportive.’

‘That’s something,’ she said neutrally.

‘Don’t say it . . . ’

‘Say what?’

‘What you’re thinking about Sally.’

‘I’m thinking nothing about Sally.’

‘Liar.’

‘Guilty as charged. But at least she came around . . . after
probably working out that this isn’t going to harm her as well . . . ’

‘Now that’s bitchy,’ I said.

‘But completely accurate.’

‘Can we move on?’

‘With pleasure. Because I’ve got some good news. I just spoke to Larry Latouche at SATWA,’ she said, using the acronym of the Screen and Television Writers’ Association. ‘He already knew about the McCall piece.’

‘He
did
?’

‘What can I say – it’s a slow week for showbiz gossip. Maybe if we get lucky, in the next forty-eight hours, some hot actor will get caught with an under-aged illegal Mexican babe, and he’ll deflect some of the heat. For the moment, however, you’re about to become the town’s talking point. And word is spreading fast.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘But the good news is that Latouche is outraged by McCall’s accusations – especially as he himself can cite at least two dozen other examples of a few lines from someone else’s script ending up being innocently used elsewhere. Anyway, he wanted you to know that the Association is fully behind you on this . . . and he’s planning to issue a press release tomorrow morning, confirming this and also damning McCall for turning a trifle into bullshit news.’

‘I’ll call Latouche later to say thanks.’

‘Good idea. We need heavy hitters in your corner right now.’

There was a knock on the door. Tracy entered, holding a copy of the press release.

‘So here it is. The big suits at Corporate HQ in New York have just approved it.’

‘How have they taken the news?’ Alison asked.

‘They’re not pleased – because, they don’t like
tsouris
. But they’re completely supportive of David, and want this whole situation closed down a.s.a.p.’

Alison then mentioned the Latouche statement. Tracy wasn’t happy.

‘That’s nice to have their support, Alison,’ she said, ‘and I appreciate you organizing this, but I wish you’d cleared it with me first.’

Alison lit up another Salem.

‘I didn’t realize I worked for you, Tracy,’ she said.

‘You know what I’m saying,’ Tracy said.

‘Yeah – you’re a control freak.’

‘Alison . . . ’ I said.

‘You’re right,’ Tracy said. ‘I am a control freak. And I want to control this situation in such a way that your client’s career isn’t damaged. Does that bother you?’

‘No – but your tone does,’ Alison said.

‘And your cigarette’s really bothering control freak me,’ Tracy said. ‘We’re a smoke-free environment.’

‘Then I’m just going to have to fuck off out of here,’ Alison said.

‘Alison, Tracy,’ I said, ‘let’s all calm down a bit.’

‘Sure,’ Alison said, ‘and while we’re at it, we can all hug each other and shed a tear, and
achieve growth
.’

‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Alison,’ Tracy said.

‘This whole shitty situation upsets me . . . and yeah, that’s my attempt at an apology too.’

‘You free for dinner tonight?’ I asked Alison.

‘Where’s your inamorata?’

‘Checking up on a pilot being filmed in Seattle.’

‘Then the martinis are on me. We need about six apiece. Come by the office around six.’

After she left, Tracy turned to me and said, ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, she’s a total piece of work . . . and you’re lucky to have her in your corner. I think she’d just about kill and maim for you.’

‘Yeah, she is pretty feral . . . and insanely loyal.’

‘Then you’re a lucky guy. They expunged “loyalty” from the LA vocabulary long ago.’