Picture Perfect

Stella rolled her eyes and Zoe felt dislike welling in her.

‘I don’t understand why he is still at home. When I was twenty, I was already out in the world trying to become an actress,’ Stella said.

‘He’s been sick for the past ten years. For God’s sake, the kid’s just had a heart transplant,’ Zoe snapped, and then she shook her head, desperate to get away from Stella the Insensitive.

‘Have a good day, Stella,’ she said and quickly walked away.

What a cold-hearted bitch, Zoe thought furiously. She had no empathy for Elliot at all. There was no way she would be presenting her name as a potential Simone, she decided, as she headed out of the store.

The self-obsession of actors like Stella made her angry, arrogant men like Jeff made her angry, the self-destruction of talents like Hugh Cavell made her angry, the unfairness of kids like Elliot nearly dying made her angry.

Picking up her phone, she dialled the only person who would understand.

‘Mags, I hate everyone today,’ she said as soon as Maggie answered.

‘Oh, babe, I hate everyone most days,’ Maggie answered with a laugh. ‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call for the last two days. That Hugh is one messed-up writer and that’s saying something in this town.’

‘I know,’ said Zoe. ‘Was he drinking?’

Maggie paused. ‘No.’

‘Thanks, Mags. I am so grateful you could help out,’ said Zoe as she got into her car. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘I’m on my way to see Elliot and Will,’ Maggie said.

‘Oh, I just saw Stella. She thinks you’re still in love with Will.’

Maggie started laughing. ‘She’s an idiot,’ she said. ‘Besides her body, I don’t know what Will sees in her.’

Zoe debated whether to tell Maggie about Stella hoping to audition for the role of Simone, but something told her to stay quiet.

Zoe’s call waiting sounded and Jeff’s name flashed on her screen. ‘Mags, I’ve gotta go. I have Satan on the other line.’

‘Say hi to Jeff from me,’ Maggie laughed as she finished the call.

‘Hi, Jeff,’ Zoe said as she pulled into the driveway of her home. Banana palms and white bougainvillea screened the low, mid-century house, giving Zoe privacy and also the sense she was in the wild from the inside of the house. It certainly wasn’t anything Jeff would like, she thought as she stopped the car.

‘What the fuck is going on, Greene? I just had Stella Valancia’s manager on the phone, saying you offered her the role of Simone. I thought you had better taste than that. Tits and teeth ain’t gonna cut it for this role.’

At least we agree on something, she thought.

Three days ago she had signed the papers in his office, and since then he had rung her at every given opportunity to throw names at her, names that she knew were too expensive and to ask her how her hunt was going.

She still had a business to run, she wanted to remind him, but part of her wanted him to think she could do it all, and then some.

But God, he was a demanding asshole. Zoe gently banged her forehead on the steering wheel a few times. Was it worth it? she wondered, as Jeff’s voice lectured her.

‘She’s trash and why the hell she’s with Will MacIntyre I don’t know, not when he had Maggie Hall in his bed. I’ve a mind to call him and tell him he doesn’t know a decent woman when he has one.’

Zoe secretly agreed but she felt bad for Stella, despite her misgivings about her earlier.

‘Can you not talk about Stella or any other woman like that, please?’

‘Oh, Christ, don’t tell me I’ve just hired a lesbian feminist!’

‘It’s none of your business what I am,’ said Zoe calmly. ‘Just don’t speak of women like that to me. You’ve got a daughter, haven’t you? I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if you heard someone talking about her like that.’

There was a silence.

‘Just tell Stella she’s not right for the role,’ Jeff barked, and slammed down the phone.

Zoe sat in the car, her head still on the steering wheel, and wondered why the hell she’d ever thought working with Jeff Beerman was a good idea.

She wanted to be powerful, but would that mean she had to turn into a tyrant like him?

Chapter 9 (#ulink_a6b4300a-66f4-5c2e-a32f-f90768ccdb24)

‘He doesn’t need a bloody assistant!’

Will was yelling at Maggie, who sat at the far end of the enormous seventeenth-century oak dining table, bought when they were still married.

‘You said I could do whatever it takes to get him out of the house, so this is what it’s gonna take, Will,’ she yelled back.

‘I am not paying her wage,’ he said firmly.

‘I will,’ she stated.

‘And she can’t live here,’ he said.

‘She needs to live here in case Elliot has writer tasks that need to be done,’ she said vaguely, unsure what they were exactly and hoping to God Will didn’t ask her to elaborate.

They stared at each other at a stalemate, just like when they were married.

Maggie tried a different tack. ‘He wants to write a book, he needs help and he needs a friend, what’s the harm in that?’

‘He needs to go back to college.’

Maggie bit her lip and then spoke calmly.

‘He hates college,’ she said.

‘Too bad,’ Will snapped.

Maggie stood up. ‘Will, you nearly lost him once; don’t make him leave you this time. You may not get him back again.’

Will looked up at her. ‘Do you really think this is the right thing to do?’

Maggie nodded. ‘He wants to meet Dylan, the person I think is right for the role, and how can that be a bad thing? I mean, at least he wants to do something. It’s all part of the process, isn’t it? Trying stuff?’