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“Wow,” Pandy said. “That’s it? It’s that easy?”
“Hollywood is an easy place when you know the right people.”
“Great!” Pandy enthused. “So when can I meet her?”
“Right now,” Roger said, pressing the button for the elevator. “The car will take you to a salon near the Chateau. SondraBeth will be there. She wants to get her hair done or something.”
A disturbing thought occurred to Pandy. “Is she high-maintenance?”
Roger shrugged and gave an exaggerated smirk. And in that moment, Pandy’s heart sank. She suddenly understood that this so-called meeting with SondraBeth Schnowzer was merely an indulgence, the studio’s way of making the author of the book feel special. When the meeting led nowhere—as they apparently suspected it would—the studio would go back to doing whatever it was they planned to do from the beginning. They would do it with impunity, and they wouldn’t think twice about doing it without her.
As Pandy got into the elevator, she decided that wasn’t going to happen.
* * *
The salon was in a small shopping center on Sunset, a few blocks from the hotel. When the car pulled up, Pandy spotted SondraBeth on the sidewalk, head bent over cupped hands.
She was lighting a cigarette.
She was wearing a fringed suede jacket that looked expensive, possibly Ralph Lauren.
She had on a pair of men’s pea-green trousers. She’d rolled the waist down to reveal the silver-gray lining and the tops of her hip bones.
As Pandy got out of the car, SondraBeth glanced over hopefully. She was still looking hopeful as she took in Pandy’s appearance: her long, swinging hair, stylishly short yellow skirt, and fancy black-and-white patent leather heels. A front tooth pulled back the edge of SondraBeth’s lower lip as a look of dismay crossed her face. It was quickly replaced with a grin. “Hey,” SondraBeth said, as if she, too, were in on the joke. “I’ll bet you can’t even get me this job.” She tossed her head as if it didn’t matter.
Pandy laughed. “I’ll bet I can.”
SondraBeth got the cigarette lit. She exhaled a stream of smoke without taking those topaz-green eyes off Pandy. She shrugged. “If you can’t, it’s not your fault. I deal with this bullshit every day.”
“Listen,” Pandy said quickly. “I hate salons—and my hotel’s right up the street.” Sensing a skittishness on the part of The Girl, she tried to make the invitation sound casual. “I’ve got a bottle of champagne in the fridge.”
She needn’t have worried. At the word “champagne,” SondraBeth suddenly relaxed, dropping her cigarette and grinding it under a gray-and-white snakeskin cowboy boot.
“Now, that sounds like a plan,” SondraBeth replied eagerly. “Champagne. It’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
“I’m at the Chateau.”
SondraBeth smirked. “I figured.”
“Bungalow One,” Pandy added.
She got back into her car. When she went to close the door, her hands were shaking.
* * *
“D’you mind if I wash my face?” SondraBeth asked as she entered the bungalow a few minutes later.
“Not at all.” Pandy went into the hallway that led to the kitchen and opened the door to the powder room. “In here.”
“I just want to wash off my makeup.” SondraBeth stepped inside the bathroom.
“No problem.” Pandy smiled broadly as if to reassure her. “I’ll open the champagne. PP sent the bottle last night.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” SondraBeth stuck her head out, emitted a loud “HA!” and slammed the door shut behind her.
Pandy went into the kitchen. She took PP’s bottle from the refrigerator and carried it and two glasses out to the terrace, placing them on a filigreed metal table with an umbrella poking out of the top.
“Hey!” SondraBeth reappeared, rubbing her face with a hand towel. She walked toward Pandy, a ray of sunlight illuminating the reddish freckles marching across the bridge of her nose like ants. “Sorry for using the bathroom. It’s just that I didn’t get a chance to take my makeup off.” She laughed and carelessly dropped the towel onto an empty seat. “I left a shoot early so I could get to meet you.”
