The Movie (13 page)

Gloria moved first, shifting forward and easing him out of her, and just as quickly Tauber tucked himself away and started buttoning his fly. DKNY for Men pants in the lightest cream wool, and he didn’t want to be getting sand in them. The R.olex said it was five after four. Time to be heading back; a few more instances of that old faggot Scott refusing to take his calls, and he was gonna bust into his

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office in person. David knew Sam would back him this time. They had a window of opportunity for this deal, and he wasn’t about to let that fake-ass would-be limey jerk him around because he couldn’t pick one good script out of-what? - eight hundred? How many had they seen this week? And he called himselfa literary agent.

Writers were scum, but even writers deserved better than Kevin Scott in their corner.

Gloria P,.amirez handed him his copy of the latest Colleen McCallum contract when they got back to their respective cars, and Tauber put it carefully in his briefcase.

They shook hands briskly. He could see her mind was already somewhere else, at her next appoinmaent, on the next deal.

‘Nice doing business with you,’ David said, flashing her a warm smile. She’d be back for more, he knew it. He was good, re:flly good.

‘Sure,’ she said absently, adding, ‘You know, David? If that Kevin guy is really so bad, maybe you should take a writer on. Show Sam Kendrick how bad he is by doing better.’

‘But I’m a movie agent,’ David said, slowly.

‘So?’

He blew her a kiss as he slid into the low-,slung leather seat of the Lamborghini. Not only was Gloria a great lay, she was a smart bitch, too. So, indeed. Just because it hadn’t been done before didn’t mean he couldn’t do it. “

All the way down the Santa Monica freeway the idea blossomed in his head, exciting him so much he didn’t even bother to put on his meditatior; tape.

If he could find a writer for this movie, he could get Kevin Scott fired.

He could put a part in it so perfect for l:koxana Felix they’d have to cast her.

He would represent the lead male, lead female, and the writer.

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Fuck the literary division.

J

etl$.

David Tauber pressed his foot on the gas..

Quarter of five, and the asshole supply had finally dried up. Maybe it was because everybody knew that Kevin’s department shut its doors at five on the dot, but the singing telegrams and balloon ladies had given up the game about twenty minutes ago. The phone was still ringing off the hook, but his assistant was dealing with it. Kevin stared morosely at the huge pile of paper on his desk, waiting for somebody to take it out to his tLolls. He would have to try to look at about twenty of these tonight, but he was almost ast caring. 1Lately had he been so glad to get to the end of a working day.

‘No. There’s no way.’

Katherine’s voice, louder and shriller than normal, floated towards him from the department lobby. He could see the tight silhouette of her back blocking the entrance to his office. ‘You cannot come in. We only accept scripts referred to us by known sources.’

Somebody was arguing quietly, a young woman. Enraged, Kevin thrust back his chair and lumbered to his feet. This was the last straw! These people had no manners, just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Well, he would give this one something to think about before she next barged into somebody’s private oflices.

‘Katherine, what is the matter here?’ he demanded portentously, flinging open the door. Yes, he’d been right. Some plump, mousy girl stood all alone in his reception, a final, forlorn figure standing on crushed flowerheads and bits of popped balloons and wrapping paper. Dear God, it looked like some child had thrown a birthday party out here. It had better, he thought ominously, be all cleaned away by the time he got in tomorrow:

‘It’s this young lady, Mr Scott. I was trying to explain to

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her that we do not accept unrecommended scripts,’ Katherine said thinly.

‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at, miss?’ Scott roared. The girl shrank, clutching her script to her chest. ‘We have a policy in this agency, you know! Didn’t you understand my assistant? We do not accept unrecommended material!’

‘But I’m newly arrived here,’ the mouse said. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. ‘How can I get something recommended when I -‘

All he registered was that she had made no move to leave.

‘ We do not accept - ‘ Kevin practically screamed. ” ‘What’s going on?’

Apoplectic with rage at being interrupted, Scott whipped round to face the intruder and promptly found his

blood pressure rising even. further.

It was David Tauber.

Instantly, the girl was forgotten. ‘Do you have an appointment?’ Scott spat, his face motded puce with hatred.

‘No, sir,’ Katherine said quicldy.

Tauber shrugged. ‘You wouldn’t take any of my calls, Kevin. So I thought I’d come to see you, see how you’re getting along with a script for Zach.’

Megan, watching stlendy from beside the desk, felt herself blush. The stranger who had so suddenly diverted all Kevin Scott’s rage towards himself was the picture of nonchalant calm and compostre. The nuclear blast of Scott’s wrath that had threatened to break her down right there in his lobby merely washed over this guy like a gentle summer breeze. He was so masculine, so self-assured. Scott did not frighten him.

And he was so fiandsome. Movie-star handsome, male model handsome, with thick hazel hair and an exquisitely muscled body. She could see his biceps oudined through

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the sleeves of his gorgeous cream wool suit, which contrasted so beautifully with his golden-brown tan. Her heart sped up, she felt a small wash of warm desire seep through her lower belly. It wasn’t jus his good looks and confidence, there was something else … masculinity, sexuality. The way he moved, he just gave it off. If it hadn’t been five in the afternoon, Megan would have sworn this man had just had sex.

Her mouth went dry,

Tauber turned round to the girl Scott had been yelling

at, knowing she was staring at him. He could feel her eyes on the back of his neck. An unprepossessing kid, shy, needed to lose weight, but she had a pretty face - pale skin and long black hair wound up in an unflattering bun. She ‘was looking at him with a mixture of awe and admiration,

maybe lust, too. No, definitely lust.

Megan dropped her gaze, flushing a deeper red with embarrassment.

‘ When I have something I think is uitable,’ Kevin was sputtering, ‘I’ll show it to Sam.’ He rounded on Megan. ‘Get out.’

‘Hey, don’t be so hasty,’ Tauber said. He didn’t give a damn about the girl, but she was bugging Kevin. Plus, she’d looked at him in a way that he liked. ‘Maybe the little lady wants to submit a script.’

‘Her and a million others,’ Kevin Scott hissed, hardly able to credit that Tauber would countermand him. ‘This division does not accept unrecommended material.’

Megan was gazing at David Tauber, holding her breath. He looked her over, a slow, assessing look. It felt like a caress, like feathery hands feeling up and down her body. Her nipples hardened.

‘I’ll bet you waited all day to come in here. I’ll bet you waited until all the others had gone,’ Tauber said to her, guessing shrewdly. She looked desperate, deten’nined. He knew the type.

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‘I’m not looking at that script!’ Scott bellowed. Tauber held out his hand and took the script from

Megan. ‘Your name and number on this?’ he enquired. She nodded.

‘Tauber, what the hell are you doing?’ Kevin Scott shrieked.

David turned to him with an insolent smile. Tm accepting submission of this manuscript.’ Not a hope in hell it’d be any good, but that wasn’t the point. The point was a declaration of war, and this script would be as good as any for that. ‘Since your department has its policy, I’m going to look at it myself. We don’t demand recommenda

tions in the movie division, and Kevin, I do need a script.’ ‘But you don’t represent writers!’

Tauber shrugged. ‘As of now, I do.’ Ignoring the older man’s incensed look, he turned to the little mousy girl and gave her a friendly smile. ‘You can run along, honey. I’ll take a look and be in touch if it’s suitable.’

With one final glance at Kevin Scott’s maroon complexion and Katherine’s expression of mortal outrage, Megan turned on her heels and fled. I03

Flashbulbs exploded around her like firecrackers, microphones from local TV stations were thrust forward in a little forest under her nose, and a crowd of print reporters jostled around the airport security guards, tape recorders shoved wildly in her general direction. Behind her,

,

1Koxana could see the other passengers swamped as a pack of fans broke through the yellow security ribbons, many of them screaming her name. With a practised eye she assessed the situation: no, there were too many guards here for them to get anywhere near her.

Inwardly she smiled. Howard Thorn had done a good

My God, am I safe?’ she whispered loudly to her nearest bodyguard.

A hundred mikes picked up the comment. She watched the TV hacks dutifully train their cameras on the mle of fans behind her. That turned the story from ‘Supermodel Arrives in LA’ to ‘Ro;ana Causes Riots at Airport’.

‘Roxana, does it bother you to get mobbed everywhere you go?’

She bent her gorgeous head towards the electronic thicket in front of her, replying bravely, ‘No, I love to see my fans. But it’s a little scary when I haven’t made enough security arrangements.’ An elegant shrug. ‘It was supposed to be a secret that I was coming to LA.’

Good-natured laughter. ‘Are you here to meet with producers?’ ‘Are you planning on acting?’

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‘I’d rather not comment right now.’ She smiled dazzlingly at them all, angling her head for the best pictures.

‘But isn’t it true that you’ve signed up to Sam Kendrick

Intemati0nal for an acting career?’ somebody yelled. Score two for Howard. loxana turned in the voice’s direction, surprise written bright across her face. ‘How did you know about that?’ she gasped, and then covered her mouth with her hands, as though caught out. More flashbulbs. All the other reporters babbling at once, firing off questions.

‘When did you decide to start acting?’

‘What’s your first project? Why SKI?’

‘Is this the end of your modelling career?’

‘OK, people, that’s enough. Let the lady through, she has no further comment at this time,’ snarled the bodyguard, hu, tling her with admirable slowness through the journalists towards her waiting limo, giving everybody enough time to get a snap off, oxana in ‘casual’ clothes cutoff denim shorts that came right up to her ass, hugging her rock-hard, slightly curved butt and displaying slender, supple thighs that tapered down to endless calves and slim ankles. This had been teamed with a Richard Tyler T-shirt in caramel silk that set offher glossy black hair and million dollar face to perfection, clinging to her heavenly breasts that were lifted even further skywards by a satin Wonder bra. The whole effect was calculatedly casual, displaying her breathtaking body in the best possible light. The outfit cost her over three thousand dolhrs - the shorts were Chanel originals-but Joe Public would thinkshe’d picked it up inJ.C. Penny, and she looked stunning anyway.

Roxana smiled gently, apologedlcally, at the crowds of press and fans who crammed their noses and lenses against the tinted windows of her limo, maintaining her expression until the car had rolled forward onto the tarmac and the last of them had slipped away.

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‘The Beverly Hills Hotel,’ she ordered the driver, sharply.

She’d be staying at the best bungalow in the grounds, the absolute height of luxury in a city where luxury was second nature. Not that she’d be footing the bill-. Unique, her modelling agents in New York, were paying; she’d thought about asking SKI to pick up the tab, but the bald fact was that she wasn’t sure they would. To Unique, she was invaluable. To SKI, she was disposable.

loxana frowned. By this time next week, that attitude would have changed.

She flicked open her Filofax, looking for the list of number she’d jotted down in the plane. Around thirty calls to make before they got into the city, and her little ‘ campaign would be all set.

The first name on the list was one of the most useful; an old schoolfriend, a girl she hadn’t seen since they were at the Sacred Heart, San Francisco, together. But that wouldn’t matter. She wanted to be a hostess, and she, loxana, was the biggest supermodel in the world right

Deliberately, she punched the number into her car phone.

Jordan Cabot Goldman.

‘Hey Megan! Over here!’

So, I’m moving up m the world, Megan thought, as she dumped two trays of dirty dishes on the sideboard. They know my name now.

Bob Jenkins shoved a dishcloth at her. ‘The machine’s full and we need more plates. Wash these.’

Disbelievingly, Megan stared at the sink. It was piled high with greasy plates, some of which hadn’t been properly scraped off, so that rank gobbits ofundercooked chicken and oily skin swam around in the water. The whole si was vibrating from the rattle of the huge

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antique dishwasher stacked next to it, filled to capacity and straggling to cope with the load. The movement was making the filthy water eddy about in murky rivulets.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Jenkins was watching her like a hawk. ‘Got some problem with that? They’re only plates, for Chrissake. All the other girls are busy.’

That was a blatant lie, Megan thought, looking round at Sandra, leaning against the wall with a cigarette, and Lisa who was hanging onto the payphone like it was her personal life-support system. She’d been on the damn thing all day. Maybe it was her life-support system. But she didn’t dare object. Lisa and Sandra kissed up to Jenkins and they hadn’t taken Tuesday off.