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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 sh
e’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.”
