Born Under a Lucky Moon (23 page)

We lay on the sand watching for shooting stars but didn't see any. Finally, we walked back up to the house with our arms slung over each other's shoulders. We weren't very quiet with our giggling. Not that it mattered. We had probably woken up the entire town with the Roman candles. We went to our separate rooms and, finally, I could sleep.

Chapter Twenty
April 2006

A
idan and I snuggled on the couch watching
Antiques Roadshow
to see who had hit it big with their grandmother's ugly vase. I was always amazed that some expert was inevitably there who instantly knew that the vase was from the tenth century, worth four thousand dollars, and made by a guy named Furtzenhaagen or whatever.

During a commercial break Aidan said, “Jeannie? I want to meet your family.”

“Sure, all right.” My eyes never left the television. There was a really good ad on for a film from a rival studio.

“Jeannie.” Aidan shook my arm. “I mean it.”

My attention shifted away from the TV. “Have you been listening to this crazy story I've been telling you?”

“Sure. You grew up in a zoo. So what?” Aidan gestured in impatience and somehow managed to knock over the glass of soda next to him on the low side table.

I leapt to my feet, went to the kitchen, and found the paper towels and 409. Coming back, I got to my knees beside the table. “Aidan,” I said, while wiping away the soda, “I've already lost one husband partially because of my family. They do nutty things, and I do nutty things right along with them, and I can't bear to bring someone home who doesn't embrace that. It's just too painful.” I sprayed the 409 on the table and wiped it down. Then I started scrubbing at the rug. “What if you can't deal with them either?” Bits of paper towel were now ground into the rug by my ferocious cleaning.

“Bring me home to Michigan and let's find out. Or start with Sammie and Elizabeth. They live right here in Los Angeles. You talk to them practically every day.” Aidan had raised his voice because I had darted to the hallway closet to get the vacuum.

“Come on, Jeannie. It's time to get over this ridiculous fear.”

I plugged in the vacuum, snapped it on, and started vacuuming under Aidan's feet. The paper towel bits were stubbornly clinging to the threads in the rug. You'd think with all that suction they would have let go by now. I pushed back and forth harder.

“Jeannie!” Aidan had raised his legs so I could get under them. “Jeannie!” I saw his lips move but the roar of the vacuum erased his words.
“
jeannie
!”

The vacuum went quiet. Aidan stood by the wall with the plug in his hand. “Leave it, Jeannie!”

“But I'm not done yet!”

“It's done.” Aidan dropped the cord. Moments later I heard water running in the guest bathroom. When I got to bed, as I suspected, he wasn't there. He was in the guest room, leaving me the master bedroom. I knocked gently at the guest room door. When there was no answer, I leaned my forehead against it and closed my eyes. After a long while, I gave up and crawled under the covers of a bed that was much too large.

I had been awake for hours but when my cell phone rang I bolted up, scattering pillows. No one ever called quite this late unless something terrible had happened.

“What's wrong?” My voice sounded hysterical.

“I see you know about it already and you're upset too!” An equally hysterical voice came through the wire.

“What happened?”

“It's horrible! Just horrible!”

“What? Was there a car accident? Was anyone hurt?” My voice was rising.

“What car? I'm talking about my hair! Are you on drugs or something?” Esperanza fairly screamed at me.

I slumped over in relief that no family member was in jeopardy. “I was in bed.”

“Are you home sick? Why are you sleeping in the afternoon?” The starlet's voice changed to sugar in half a heartbeat—not because she was concerned about me but because she figured she should feign concern about me.

“It's three forty-two in the morning here. You must be mixed up with the time change to Bali.” I rubbed my eyes.

“Time change? What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Bali is something like ten hours ahead of Los Angeles.” This conversation was becoming too technical for me at this hour.

“It is?” She sounded surprised. “Is that why I was so tired when I got off the plane?”

“Yes.” I pulled the covers over my head with my ear still pressed to my phone. “That would be why.”

She began to prattle that Bali was beautiful and I really should try and come, but to stay at the Four Seasons because anywhere else was just so third-world, and then, why bother?

“Do you mind if we talk about this in a few hours?” I whispered.

“I can't. I have to get ready to go to dinner with the director. Have I told you about the director? He's fabulous.”

I knew about the director. A famous womanizer. Seemed as though Esperanza had moved on to greener pastures than Stripe. I also knew I was going to have to get up. “Hold on,” I said. I made my way out to the kitchen, where I scrambled for a pen and a piece of paper. I settled for the back of an old envelope. “Okay, tell me the problem with the hair.”

She went on for ten minutes about how great the poster was but there was a “tiny little doohickey on the left, no the right, no the left, side of my hair—can it be removed?” she inquired. Practically sobbing, she said that it reminded her of her third grade class photo—a picture that she had never gotten over because her hair was sticking up and her classmates had teased her unmercifully. Now her hair was sticking up again and it brought back such bad memories that she was flying her therapist to Bali.

My head was in my hands. “Yes, it can be removed.” I didn't even need to take notes for this one. “I'll send it to you for final approval in a day or so.”

“That's okay. I trust you. Just fix it and go ahead and print it,” Esperanza said now in a cheerful tone. Finally, I was able to extricate myself from the voluble star and make my way back to bed, turning off the lights as I went.

In the morning Aidan was already gone when I finally dragged myself from bed. No note, no kiss good-bye. Checking the clock, I saw that I had overslept. Shit, today of all days. I had a meeting with Rachael and Stripe to discuss the disastrous
TechnoCat
trailer. With no time for a shower, I stuck my hair in a ponytail, pulled on the clothes I could find the fastest, and flew out the door. I could do my makeup while I was stopped at red lights.

In the car, my cell phone rang and I pressed the button on the steering wheel to answer it hands free. It was Lucy. “I'm coming out to L.A. for a couple of days,” she said. “You still have that extra bedroom, right?” My hands tightened on the steering wheel as Lucy's voice filled the car.

“That's not going to work out, Lucy. I'm going to be out of town.”

“I haven't even told you when I'm coming yet,” Lucy snipped. “And if you're out of town, you won't be using your house anyway.”

Lucy had, for a long time, been a high-powered litigator at a major law firm in New York City. When her daughter was born, several years ago, she had given it up to be a part of a smaller company in Connecticut.

“My client doesn't have a lot of money, Jeannie. I'd like to save him a few dollars by not billing him for a hotel stay while I do the depositions for his case,” Lucy continued. “I'll arrive on Sunday and will only stay for a couple of nights.”

At a red light I grabbed my iPhone and checked my calendar. Aidan was going to be out of town Saturday through Wednesday.

“Sounds great.” I was now sincere. I hadn't seen Lucy in a few years and it would be good to catch up with her in person—especially since I now realized Aidan would be in Vancouver at the time. Lucy said good-bye and I merged onto the freeway, my eyes glazing over in the perpetual traffic jam called the 405 South.

Ten miles and forty-five minutes later I arrived at the studio. Caitlin met me in the hallway outside my office, thrust a cup of coffee in my hand, and spun me around in the direction of Rachael's office. “You're late. Stripe is already in there with Rachael.”

Balancing the coffee, I quickened my pace, all while disengaging my backpack and purse, then pushing them into Caitlin's arms. As I was reaching for Rachael's door, Caitlin said, “Jeannie, there's one more thing. You need to know that . . .”

I pushed through the door and didn't hear the rest. I should have waited. In Rachael's spacious office, seated in the plushy leather chairs, were Rachael, Stripe, and Katsu. They were just finishing laughing at something and turned to face me like I was an unwelcome interruption in their important day. Katsu, in his crisp Armani suit, looked me up and down and I became acutely aware of how I must look. Hair in a ponytail, jeans and white blouse, and oh God, had I forgotten to put on makeup in the car? I had. Lucy's call had distracted me. Taking a deep breath, I strode into the room with a lot more confidence than I felt and sat down in the fourth chair.

“I guess we can get started,” Rachael said, “now that Jeannie has finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

I fumed inwardly. I was ten minutes late. How many days had I shown up here at 8 a.m. after working until midnight? Rachael gestured to Katsu. “Katsu, we're looking forward to seeing the trailer you cut for
TechnoCat
. Jeannie has been having some problems with it, as you know.”

I kept my face impassive but inwardly I was screaming, “Fuck you! I came up with a trailer that audiences loved. I did my job!” Aidan probably would have been proud of me, had I managed to say this aloud. Instead I finished up my silent ranting with another “Fuck you” for good measure.

Katsu stood and strode to insert the dvCam into the deck beneath the giant monitor. As is custom, he stood to one side as the trailer played. I held my breath. Was it going to be any good? More importantly, was it going to be better than what I had done?

One minute into the trailer, I exhaled. Not only was the trailer not any good, it phenomenally sucked. Instead of feeling like a blockbuster movie, it felt like a small indie movie about a young girl crying over the death of her mother. There was no mention of superpowers or cool gadgets or big explosions. With a trailer like this,
TechnoCat
would open to about four cents at the box office. I was delighted but kept my face carefully expressionless. When it was over, Katsu came and sat back down. Then he and I looked at Rachael and Stripe. Rachael spoke first.

“Katsu, that was terrific. Really unusual thinking, which is what we need right now,” Rachael said. Katsu couldn't quite hide his smile.

“I loved it,” Stripe intoned solemnly. “I wouldn't change one frame.” Katsu puffed up visibly.

Looking from one to the other I wondered, Are these people crazy? They have hundreds of millions of dollars on the line. I felt like I was in upside-down land.

Rachael stood and crossed the room to get herself some green tea. Her movements were slow and measured. When she returned I realized she had been buying time to think. Her words seemed carefully chosen. “This trailer is excellent. But, Stripe, I think we need your magic here.” Stripe might have been surprised at this turn but he was an old Hollywood player. His face gave nothing up. “You had an idea for a special shoot. I think we should do that shoot, look at the trailer that comes out of it, then decide between that one and the one Katsu has just cut.”

Stripe sat back in his chair. “Seems like a waste of money. We have a trailer right here that works.”

“But it's such a brilliant idea.” Rachael stroked him with her words, then stuck in the knife. “And we need to explore every possibility with a film that is costing the studio this much money.” Ouch, I thought. She had just reminded Stripe about the cost overruns he had incurred while making the film. I watched them swat the political ball back and forth like a fast-paced tennis match.

“Well, the marketing dollars are on your head,” Stripe said in a jovial tone. “It's up to you if you want to spend money recklessly like that.” He paused and seemed to consider for a moment, glancing at Katsu. Then he stood up and began gathering his things. “Sure, I'll do it. We'd better get cracking though. Katsu, you and I should meet today about getting this shoot together.”

“Not Katsu,” Rachael said evenly. “Jeannie will handle the production. Katsu has no experience with this kind of thing. Jeannie has handled plenty of special shoots.”

Stripe gazed at her a moment too long. Then with a nod of his head he exited. Katsu said good-bye and strode out as well.

I stood in the middle of Rachael's office, not sure of what had just transpired.

“Rachael?”

“Yes?” She sat at her desk, studying the trade magazines and sipping her green tea.

“What the hell is going on around here?”

“I'll let you know when I know.” She never looked up, not even as I quietly left her office.