Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi (read me like a book .TXT) 📕

“Think of her as an object of pity, not of fear.”

“She made me feel like an idiot, Tom. Like I’m back in grade school and the nuns are out to get me.”

I grinned. “That’s a pretty good simile, Michelle,” I said.

“A what?” Michelle said.

Rajiv came back in the office with scripts in hand.

“Listen,” I said. “Practice the scene with Rajiv. I’ll track down Roland and schmooze the man. It’s what you pay me the big bucks for.”

Michelle smiled wanly as I exited.

Roland’s office was tucked into a corner of the studio lot; to the left were huge sound sets. To the right was a little park in the center of a collection of offices. Roland was in the little park, standing. Avika Spiegelman stood next to him. As I got closer, it became clear that Avika was chewing Roland out over something. Before I could hear what it was, however, she saw me approach, clammed up, shot Roland a look and walked away from him. He stood there, a rueful little grin on his face, as I came up.

“Looks like you two had a nice chat,” I said.

“Lovely,” Roland said, watching Avika walk back into the office. “It reminded me of some of the more painful dental experiences of my life.”

“Up the anesthesia,” I suggested.

“Or simply get defanged,” Roland said. “Which is, now that I think about it, the process I’m undergoing at the moment. Tom, would you mind terribly if I had a smoke?”

“Not at all,” I said.

“Thanks,” Roland said. He fished out a Marlboro, and lit up. “I’m trying to quit,” he said. “But I’m afraid now’s not a good time.”

“The audition is that bad?” I said.

“Well, Tom, we haven’t really had the audition yet, have we,” Roland said. “We have to actually have lines read to see if they’re being done properly.”

“Ouch,” I said, on behalf of my client.

Roland picked up on it. “Sorry about that, Tom,” he said. “I’m don’t mean to run Michelle down. She’s a lovely girl. And I’m afraid I haven’t been straightforward with her or with you about this reading.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

Roland took a long drag on his cigarette before answering. “To be brief,” he said, “I have less than a month left on my option for Hard Memories. If I don’t have the lead cast by that time, I’ll lose the option. The buzzards are already circling, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” I said.

“Yes. Well, that’s why Michelle is having a reading today, not because of your own work last week. In fact, once it became clear Ellen was going to drop, I told Rajiv to do whatever he could to encourage Miss Beck to read. I don’t really expect her to be brilliant, mind you. But if she was passable, I thought I might convince Ms. Spiegelman to let us make the attempt. Michelle is, as you say, quite a draw at the moment.”

“Not to be rude, Roland,” I said. “But why does it matter what Avika thinks? You’re the director and producer.”

“Funny about that,” Roland said. “One of the conditions the Spiegelman family put on my optioning the official biography was the right of refusal for the lead actress. At the time, when I had everyone from Ellen Merlow to Meryl Streep interested in the script, I considered it the least of my worries.”

“I take it that Avika isn’t impressed so far,” I said.

Roland used his cigarette as a pointer towards the office. “In our conversation prior to your arrival, Ms. Spiegelman declared that she’s met pets who are smarter than Miss Beck.”

“Well, so have I,” I said, truthfully. “But they haven’t brought in $300 million with their last two films.”

“And I wish you the best of luck convincing Ms. Spiegelman with that argument,” Roland said.

“I didn’t realize you had so much riding on this audition,” I said.

“That’s why I said I was sorry, Tom,” Roland said. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you on the matter. I don’t know that it would have changed anything if I had; still, I try to be more honest than the typical Hollywood producer.”

“You have other projects in the pipe, I’m sure,” I said.

“No, not really,” Roland said, and brought back the rueful smile. “I’m a prestige producer, Tom. One of those fellows you hire when your studio has been cranking out one too many action films, and you need to throw in an Oscar contender to prove you still care about the art of filmmaking. None of my films actually make money. Even The Green Fields only broke even, and that after video. So I tend to work one project at a time. I’ve been thinking about that Kordus project, but you know where we are on that one. Which reminds me, have you looked at that script yet?’

“I did,” I said. “It’s very good.” Actually, it wasn’t just good, it was astonishingly good. And written by a 23-year-old film student. Reading it, I had made the mental note to myself to get him to hire me as his agent, or steal him away from whichever one he currently had.

“It is, isn’t it?” Roland puffed a final puff on his cigarette and threw it to the ground, snuffing it out. “If I don’t manage to pull this project’s chestnuts out of the fire, I’ll have a nice long time to fiddle with it. Come on, Tom. Let’s get back for the second act.” We headed back.

Back in the office, Rajiv had pulled up a chair and was sitting with Michelle, going over scene 29. Avika, upon seeing Roland and me enter, pointedly looked at her watch and then at us both. “Well,” Roland said. “Are we ready to begin again?”

Michelle looked for me, uncertain. I smiled back at her and gave her a thumbs-up signal. Rajiv rolled his chair back and took his position behind the video recorder. Roland sat down again and nodded to Avika. Avika recited her line.

My phone rang.

“Sorry,” I said, after everyone glared at me. I ducked out of the office.

It was Miranda. “Carl wants to know when you’re getting into the office,” she said.

“Probably not long now,” I said. “Michelle is self-destructing at the moment. Did he say why?”

“He mentioned something about someone needing a dog ASAP, and that Marcella would have details,” she said. “I have no idea what that means. It sounds like code, and I’ve lost my secret decoder ring.”

“I know what it means,” I said. “But I can’t. I have to be with Michelle this afternoon. I promised her I would go with her to have to her latex mask made.”

“I’m just passing along messages,” Miranda said. “I can’t give you permission to defy the orders of your CEO.”

I sighed. “Is Carl in right now?” I asked.

“Let me check,” Miranda said, and put me on hold. My hold music, I was shocked to discover, was Olivia Newton-John. I was going to have to have someone drag my Muzak out of the Seventies. Before it became thoroughly intolerable, Miranda came back on the line.

“Marcella says he’s in a meeting right now but can schedule three minutes for you if you really need it. She also notes that his tone indicated that you probably don’t want to need those three minutes.”

The door to Roland’s office opened up and Roland popped his head out. “Tom,” he said. “I think you’d better come in here. We’ve had a development.”

“Gotta go, Miranda,” I said, and snapped the cel phone shut.

In the office, Michelle was lying on the floor. Rajiv, panting, was placing ice cubes on her forehead. He had sprinted to the bar to scoop up the cubes, proving chivalry was not dead, merely out of breath. Avika sat on the couch, not knowing whether to look concerned or outraged.

“I don’t know what happened,” Roland said. “She was very nervous about doing the lines, but she seemed all right. And then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell off her chair.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“She’s out cold on the floor, Tom,” Roland said, his gentility cracking just for a second. “I don’t generally brain the actors at readings. I usually wait until we’re actually on the set.”

“What a fucking nightmare,” I muttered, and then turned to Roland. “It’s her autosuggestion,” I said.

“What?” Avika said, from the couch.

I sighed again. “She’s been going to a hypnotherapist,” I said. “The damned fool put in an autosuggestion that blacks her out every time she gets too stressed out.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Avika said.

I ignored her. “Give her a few seconds and she’ll be good as new,” I said to Roland.

“What a relief that is,” Avika said, and stood up. “Well, I’ve wasted enough time for one day. When she comes to, thank her for her time and then show her the door. She’s not getting the role.”

Roland looked at Michelle sadly. “Yes, right, all right,” he said.

“I don’t think you’re giving her a chance,” I said. “You haven’t even heard her do a reading yet.”

“Who has the time?” Avika said. “Between the wrong scenes and the fainting, by the time we run through the scene, Roland’s option will be up, anyway. As if it matters. Frankly, Mr. Stein, I don’t know what Roland was thinking. Your client is good for roles that require teenagers to be deflowered. But this role is something else entirely. Michelle Beck has about as much in common with my aunt as David Hasselhoff has with Gandhi. After today, I’d rather give the part to a golden retriever than to her.”

“I could arrange that,” I said.

Roland jumped in before Avika could respond. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Spiegelman,” he said, showing her to the door. “And don’t worry. We’ll find someone for the role.”

“No offense, Roland,” Avika said. “But if this is where we are in the casting process, I seriously doubt it.” She nodded to me and walked out.

Roland turned to me and slumped slightly. “Scotch?” he said.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I have to be driving back soon.”

Michelle moaned slightly as she worked her way back into consciousness.

“Well, then,” Roland said. “I’ll have a double for the both of us.”

*****

“Bad day?” Miranda asked, when Michelle and I arrived at the office.

“You have no idea,” I said, and walked Michelle into my office to lie down on my couch. Michelle’s reaction to her incredible imploding reading had passed beyond mere depression and moved into the region of pharmaceutically untreatable mental states. I urged her to take a nap before she went to have latex splotzed all over her face.

“That’s terrible,” Miranda said, after I recounted our little adventure. “I mean, I didn’t think she was going to be good for the role, but what a way to flame out.”

“If I were her hypnotherapist, I’d lie low for a couple of weeks,” I said. “I don’t think their next session is going to be very pleasant. Listen, did you find out anything more about what Carl wants?”

“I did,” Miranda said, reaching for her notebook. “I went over to Marcella’s desk and got the message. Here — apparently a stunt dog they have on this Bruce Willis film contracted a nasty case of mange, and they need a replacement for some shots they’re doing this afternoon.” She tore the page out of her notebook and handed it to me. “You’re going to have to spend a lot of time in makeup, Tom.”

“Hardy har,” I said, taking the note. The film was shooting in Pasadena, which was helpful — it wasn’t far from where I lived, and not all