What I Did for Love (18 page)

She made the first move in this new game they were playing by tilting her head toward the poster of Jake Koranda playing Bird Dog Caliber. “Now there’s a real man.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.” He squeezed a rubber exercise ball in his fist, channeling Humphrey Bogart in
The Caine Mutiny.
“I need a little cooperation for a change.”

She looked wounded. “What do you mean, ‘for a change.’ I’m always cooperative.” She plopped down on his couch. “Okay, mainly cooperative with other people, but still…”

“Stop screwing around and listen.” He curled the ball in his palm and pointed his index finger at her nose. “Don’t sabotage me with Rory Keene.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t you? Rory loves everything about the
Tree House
project except…”

“You?” She widened those gum ball green eyes. “It’s because you have a bad reputation.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” He set the ball on his desk. “I have to make this film, Georgie. Me and nobody else. You need to convince her I’ve turned into Husband of the Year.”

“You haven’t.”

“Pretend.”

“You’re asking me for help?” Again the big-eyed Orphan Annie thing, but Georgie had always been a team player, and he figured she’d help him…after she gave him a hard time.

She put a finger to her cheek. “If I suck up to Rory for you, what do I get in return?”

“Hot sex and my undying gratitude.”

She pretended to think it over. “Nope. Not good enough.”

“I’ll let Meg stay in the guesthouse.”

“Meg’s already staying in the guesthouse.”

“Let me put it another way. I won’t hit on her while she’s staying in the guesthouse.”

“You won’t hit on her anyway. You treat her like she’s twelve.” She finally got down to business. “I want to read the script before I meet Rory this afternoon. Hand it over.”

“I told you I’d let you see it.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me you’d let me
read
it.”

“You noticed that.”

She held out her hand.

He hesitated. “You don’t exactly have the best judgment when it comes to scripts. You’re the one who made
Summer in the City.
”

“
Pretty People,
too, another stinker. And
Cake Walk,
which you haven’t seen yet, and which I recommend you don’t.” She wiggled her hand at him. “That’s all in the past. You’re looking at a whole new Georgie York. Give it up.”

She was no longer the pushover she’d once been, so he didn’t have much choice. He pulled the bound script from his middle desk drawer, the one she’d searched three weeks ago only to find a broken telephone. She snatched it from him before he could change his mind, gave him a cheery wave, and left.

He hated asking anybody for help, especially Georgie, and he slumped in his chair to brood. When that got him nowhere, he turned back to his computer. As good as the script had been, it still
needed work, and he’d been tinkering with one scene or another from the beginning. He could imagine what Georgie would say if she learned that a high school dropout was monkeying around with Sarah Carter’s words. Or…even worse, how she’d laugh if she discovered he’d finished a script of his own.

Except she wouldn’t laugh. Unlike him, she didn’t have a cruel bone in her body, and he could even imagine her mustering up a few well-intentioned words of encouragement.

The idea stuck in his craw. He didn’t need phony encouragement from anybody, especially Georgie. He’d raised himself, screwed up his life by himself, and now he was digging out the same way. By himself.

Georgie couldn’t read
fast enough, and she finished the script in two hours. It was just as amazing as the book. An incredible opportunity…and not only for Bram.

Tree House
told the story of Danny Grimes, a man who’d been falsely imprisoned for sexually abusing a child. Released on a technicality, he’s forced by his father’s terminal illness to return home and face both the town and the ruthless female prosecutor, now a state senator, who hid DNA evidence to ensure his conviction. Danny’s self-imposed isolation is threatened by his suspicions that the child next door is being abused by her father. The script was powerful and heart wrenching, filled with fascinating and complex characters, none of whom were exactly what they seemed to be.

She found Bram swimming laps in the pool. She stood on the edge near the waterfall and shifted impatiently from one leg to the other, waiting for him to stop. He saw her, but he continued cutting through the water. She picked up the leaf skimmer and whapped him on the head.

“Hey!” Water flew as he spun around.

She took a deep breath. “I want to play Helene.”

“Good luck with that.” He dove under and swam for the ladder on the opposite side of the pool.

She dropped the leaf skimmer, her heart thumping with excitement. By the time she’d finished the first scene, she’d known she had to play the coldly ambitious prosecutor. This was exactly the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Playing Helene would cut through years of typecasting and give her the challenge she so desperately wanted. She strode toward the ladder. “The script is brilliant. Bone chilling, intricate, thoughtful. Everything you said it was. I have to play Helene. I mean it.”

Water sluiced down his body as he climbed out of the pool. “In case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m having a small problem getting the movie financed, so casting Helene is the last thing on my mind.”

She grabbed his towel and handed it over. “But if you do get a green light…The only reason no one ever thinks of me as a dramatic actress is because I’ve never gotten a chance to show what I can do. And don’t tell me audiences wouldn’t be able to get past the two of us in
Skip and Scooter.
The love story is between Danny and the home nurse, not with Helene. I know exactly how to do that part. And I’ll work for scale.”

“Bottom line, Georgie, if I can get this film made, you still won’t be playing Helene.” He rubbed the towel over his head, then draped it around his neck. “Considering my own recent lackluster career, this film needs an actress with a proven record at the box office, and let’s face it, your face sells a lot more tabloids than movie tickets.”

She refused to concede his point. “Think of the publicity value of the two of us doing a film together. Audiences will line up to see if we can pull it off.”

“We can’t.” He dropped the towel on the chair. “Georgie, this whole discussion is beyond premature.”

“You think I can’t play a complicated character? You can do it,
but I can’t? You’re so wrong. I have the discipline and focus to pull it off.”

“Meaning you think I don’t.”

She didn’t want to flat out insult him, but truth was truth. “You can’t rely on tricks to play Danny. He’s bitter and tortured. He’s endured something no one should ever have to go through.”

“I’ve lived with this material for over a year,” he shot back. “I know exactly what makes him tick. Now instead of arguing, why don’t you use your brain to figure out how you’re going to convince Rory Keene that I’m a solid Hollywood citizen and that she needs to meet with me?”

Georgie used the
rear gate. Rory’s white brick French Normandy mansion was grander than Bram’s home, but not nearly as welcoming. From the back, sweeping terraces overlooked the pool and formal gardens. Rory sat in the shade of the side terrace on a black wrought-iron couch covered with bright tangerine cushions. With her long blond hair pulled into a ponytail and her legs curled beneath her, Rory should have looked like a soccer mom, but she didn’t. Even in such an informal setting she projected the cool, intimidating confidence of a formidable studio executive.

She pushed aside the script she’d been reading and offered Georgie a glass of champagne. Now that Bram wasn’t the only person with something at stake, Georgie fought to keep her nervousness under control as she accepted the drink and settled into an adjacent chair. They discussed last weekend’s box-office receipts and the success of a new Jack Black film. Finally, Rory got down to the reason for her invitation.

“Georgie, this is a bit awkward…” Her steady gaze indicated awkwardness didn’t bother her much. “Ever since those awful photos came out, I’ve been telling myself to mind my own business, but I can’t do it. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

Georgie hadn’t expected this, and she was embarrassed. The worst of the tabloid gossip might be fading, but obviously Rory wasn’t so easily convinced. “Don’t give it another thought. Really. Everything’s fine. Now tell me about the house. I was surprised to hear you’re leasing.”

Rory took a sip of champagne, then set her flute on the table next to her. “The studio leases it. It’s our version of the White House. I have my private quarters, but we keep a separate wing for special guests—corporate VIPs, directors, producers, whomever we want to court. Right now we’re hosting some incredibly talented international filmmakers—part of a project I’m spearheading.”

“I’m sure they’re flattered to be invited to stay here.”

“A special staff takes care of them. I don’t have to entertain anyone I don’t want to.” Rory uncrossed her legs and once again turned the full force of her iceberg eyes on Georgie. “If you ever feel…uncomfortable, as if you need to get away quickly, you can come over here anytime, night or day.”

Georgie didn’t know which she hated more—the idea that Rory thought Bram was a wife batterer or her belief that Georgie had so little self-regard she’d allow herself to be abused. “Those photos were deceptive, Rory. I know it looked like we were having a fight, but we weren’t. Honestly. Bram would never hurt me. Drive me crazy, yes. But physically hurt me, never.”

“Women don’t always think straight where men like Bram Shepard are concerned,” Rory said. “And after what you went through with Lance…”

“I’m touched by your concern. Truly. But it’s unnecessary.” Georgie couldn’t let this go. “You’ve…tried to look out for me before. I’m grateful, but I can’t help wondering why.”

“You don’t remember what you did for me, do you?”

“I’m hoping I loaned you a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings you’re about to return?”

Rory smiled her snow-goddess smile. “No such luck.” She picked up her champagne flute and twisted the stem. “When I worked on
Skip and Scooter,
you were always good to the crew.”

Georgie had never understood the logic of stars who made life miserable for the people whose job it was to make them look good. Besides, her father wouldn’t have tolerated diva behavior. Still, being courteous to the crew didn’t seem like a good enough reason for Rory to keep extending herself.

“I also like seeing decent people succeed.” Rory took another sip.

Georgie didn’t feel like much of a success right now. “You were the best production assistant the show ever had. I was sorry you only stayed one season.”

“It was a hard show to work. A lot of testosterone.”

Georgie remembered the way she’d teased Bram about having given Rory a hard time, but now it didn’t seem so amusing. “Bram hit on you, didn’t he?”

“Daily.” She tugged absentmindedly on a diamond stud earring. “But his friends were the real problem.”

“They were such losers. A bunch of parasites living off him. I’m happy to report he’s shaken them off.” He’d shaken everyone off, which seemed odd for someone who’d once kept himself surrounded.

“They’d slip pornographic pictures on my clipboard,” Rory said coolly. “Snap my bra when I walked by. Sometimes worse.”

“And Bram didn’t stop it?”

“I don’t think he knew about the worst of it. But they were his friends, and he was the one who insisted they be allowed on the set. When I tried to talk to him about it, he told me to lighten up.” She draped her wrist over her thigh. “Then one afternoon, two of them cornered me.”

Georgie sat up straight in her chair. “Now I remember. We’d finished shooting for the day, but I’d left a book or something on
the set. I went back to get it and saw them pinning you against the wall. I’d forgotten that was you.”

“It was me. You started yelling at them, and you even threw a couple of punches. You might only have been a teenager, but you had a lot more power than a lowly P.A., and they backed off. Afterward you went to the producers. They were banned from the set, and Bram couldn’t do a thing about it.” She tilted her head almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never forgotten the way you went to bat for me.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done the same thing.”

“Who knows? The point is, I don’t forget my friends.”

Georgie thought about Bram. “I’m guessing you don’t forget your enemies either.”

Rory cocked an eyebrow. “Not unless my memory loss will make the studio a lot of money.”

Georgie smiled, then sobered. “If you and Bram didn’t have that old history, would it change the way you feel about
Tree House
?”

“A studio invests in more than a screenplay. It’s the whole package.”

“And in this case, Bram’s the centerpiece.”

“He doesn’t have any experience with a project like this.”

Bram had been around the business since he was a teenager. It was his character, not his lack of experience, that put Rory off, and she didn’t pull her punches. “He earned his bad reputation, Georgie. He’s let a lot of people down.”

“I know. But…people do change. I’ve never seen him so passionate about anything.”

Rory offered a distant Hollywood smile that meant she’d already made up her mind. With Paul as a father, Georgie had never needed to be pushy, but no one else could fight this particular battle. She desperately wanted a shot at playing Helene, and Bram’s success was her ticket. “I think passion counts for a lot when it comes to
making a great film. All the experience in the world doesn’t mean anything if the filmmaker isn’t in love with the project.”

Bram’s genuine passion for
Tree House
forced her to confront how long it had been since she’d felt that kind of passion for herself. Playing Helene would give it back.