Chasing Dreams Read online

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jodi said into the phone. ‘If I could put you through, I would, but I can’t.’

  ‘OK,’ Ellen answered. ‘But just tell me, did he get my faxes?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jodi confirmed. ‘He got them.’

  ‘Did he read them?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jodi answered. ‘He didn’t say.’

  There was an exasperated silence at the other end before she said, ‘Will you tell him I called? And give him my home number?’

  ‘OK,’ Jodi responded, knowing she probably wouldn’t, but she didn’t want to dash the woman’s hopes altogether, even though common sense and charity told her it would probably be kinder if she did.

  Later that day Zelda was in Michael’s car as he drove them both up to the West End. For the moment he was speaking on the phone so Zelda waited until he had finished, then quickly said, ‘Before you start dialling again there’s something I want to say to you.’

  Michael grinned. ‘I was trying to avoid it,’ he confessed, clicking off the phone and dropping it into his lap.

  Zelda chuckled and popped a mint humbug in her mouth. ‘So,’ she said, her cheek bulging, ‘what’s the answer?’

  ‘To what?’ he countered, holding his hand out for a sweet.

  ‘I know you’ve read the faxes, so have you given any thought to this latest offer from Forgon?’ she said.

  ‘Some,’ he answered.

  ‘Aaaand?’ she prompted.

  ‘And nothing. I read the faxes, I thought about the offer and nothing. It doesn’t interest me.’

  ‘Doubling, maybe tripling, the output of McCann Walsh doesn’t interest you?’ she said flatly.

  ‘That always interests me, provided I’m the head of McCann Walsh,’ he replied.

  Zelda stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Maybe you could add a few conditions of your own,’ she suggested.

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Like, you get to buy McCann Walsh back after a period of, say, five years?’

  ‘At its going market rate?’ he scoffed. ‘With all ATI’s business coming this way, I’ll never be able to buy the agency back. For Christ’s sake, Zelda,’ he said, ‘can’t you see where the man’s coming from? All he wants is to destroy me. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about the agency. OK, he’ll probably make it four, five, even ten times bigger than it is now – he wants to make money, so why wouldn’t he? But all he’s really concerned about is settling a score that was only ever a big deal to him in the first place. Christ, that sort of thing goes on all the time in Hollywood.’

  ‘Maybe, but the way he sees it, you cost him more face than a plastic surgeon trashes in a month,’ Zelda responded.

  Despite himself Michael laughed. ‘And I’m supposed to give him my agency to say sorry?’ he said.

  Zelda sucked on her sweet and they drove on in silence until finally Michael said, ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me to consider this offer.’

  Zelda foraged for another humbug. ‘What I think is that you should know what you’re turning down and why,’ she said.

  He seemed amused as he raised an eyebrow. ‘And are you satisfied that I know the answer to both those questions?’ he asked.

  She nodded slowly. ‘Yes, you probably do,’ she said. ‘I’m just surprised that you’re so determined to hold out against Hollywood.’

  ‘I don’t see that I’m holding out,’ he responded. ‘We do plenty of business out there. You were there yourself a month ago doing a deal for Carro and Millman. Craig’s got his contacts out there, so have Janey and Diana, and from what he tells me Harry’s been talking to someone at Front Row about a twelvemonth tie-up. So we’re definitely not holding out against Hollywood. We’re just spreading it around a bit, rather than putting all our talent in one show.’

  ‘And you have no desire to base yourself there?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’

  ‘Not at any price?’

  ‘Correct.’

  Zelda popped her humbug, then sat with her hands resting on the top of her bag. ‘Have you ever met Ellen Shelby?’ she asked.

  Michael frowned as he thought. ‘Not that I know of,’ he said. ‘Have you?’

  Zelda shook her head. ‘I called someone at CAA last night. Seems she’s pretty big news over there.’

  ‘Everyone’s big news in Hollywood,’ Michael commented, ‘or they like to think they are.’

  ‘She’s got a good reputation,’ Zelda said. ‘She’s a genuine Forgon protégé, apparently. He took her on a couple of years ago and she’s gone from strength to strength ever since.’

  ‘Which means he’s screwing her.’

  Zelda rolled her eyes. ‘I expected more of you, Michael,’ she chided.

  ‘We’re talking Hollywood, Zelda,’ he reminded her. ‘OK, so she’s a Forgon protégé,’ he conceded, when she went silent on him.

  ‘Mmm,’ Zelda responded, moving her humbug from one cheek to the other, ‘but probably not for much longer, if you’re going to turn this offer down.’

  Michael’s surprise was expressed in a laugh. ‘Zelda, I’ve got no intention of being held to account for these people’s jobs,’ he told her. He glanced over at her, then braked hard to avoid ramming the car in front.

  Zelda stared straight ahead.

  ‘OK, I feel bad about it,’ he confessed, ‘but if you think I’m going to put my soul and my integrity along with everything I’ve ever worked for into Ted Forgon’s pocket just to save one person’s job, a person I’ve never even met remember, then think again, because it’s not going to happen.’

  Zelda’s fat, gentle face was alight with surprise. ‘I didn’t know you had a soul,’ she said, sounding rather cheered by the idea.

  ‘OK, I lied. But you get the general idea. Anyway, conversation over. This guy’s not for sale.’

  ‘And if Ellen Shelby flies over to London, which she undoubtedly will, are you going to see her?’

  ‘What’s the point? It’ll be a waste of her time and mine.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Remind me where you’re going now.’

  ‘The Savoy,’ she answered. She allowed a few seconds to pass, then said, ‘So, it’s no way, LA.’

  Michael frowned. ‘What is this, Zelda?’ he demanded. ‘I’m beginning to think you actually want me to go.’

  ‘It’d break my heart,’ she told him frankly. ‘But it’s been over four years now, Michael. It’s time to let go of the past and start working towards what you really want.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he retorted. ‘No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to hear it.’ He let a few seconds pass, then, glancing at her he said, ‘Is that what everyone thinks? That I haven’t got over it yet?’

  Zelda blinked mildly, then scratching her nose turned to gaze absently out at the peculiar King’s Road fashions.

  ‘But that’s crazy,’ he protested. ‘It was so long ago I don’t even think about her any more.’

  ‘Who?’ Zelda asked.

  Confused, Michael glanced at her, then was forced to brake hard again as he turned back to the road.

  They were approaching Sloane Square before he spoke again. ‘Are you going to O’Malley’s first night on Friday?’ he asked.

  Zelda’s eyebrows rose. ‘Does a drowning man yawn?’ she answered.

  Michael laughed. ‘You know, for someone who professes to spread only good thoughts through the world you’ve got some corkers hidden away,’ he told her.

  ‘I save them all for you,’ she confessed, looking off down Sloane Avenue as they headed towards Eton Square. ‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, wondering which of the grand Edwardian houses Sandy Paull’s apartment was in, ‘what are you going to do about Sandy?’

  Michael looked surprised. ‘What about her?’ he said.

  ‘You told her to come and see you after the meeting tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he responded.

  Zelda waited, not entirely surprised by his silence, for she had long experience of his
refusal to be drawn on subjects he wasn’t keen to discuss, and she’d certainly noticed these past couple of months how reluctant he was to discuss Sandy. Even all the speculation going on around the office as to how Sandy could afford the kind of clothes she wore and the primely located flat she rented hadn’t seemed to evoke any response from him. It was true he had once remarked on the change in her, though whether he had been referring to the distinct improvement in the way she looked, or the surprising confidence she’d acquired in so short a time, had been impossible to tell. And as for her crush on him, which was so obvious it bordered on the embarrassing at times, well, that was a subject he definitely didn’t welcome, not even as a joke.

  ‘What is it you’ve got against the girl?’ Zelda asked bluntly.

  ‘Who are we talking about now?’ Michael wondered.

  ‘Sandy Paull. And before you answer, remember I know you, Michael, so I know when you’re going out of your way to be nice to someone to compensate for not liking them. God knows, I’ve seen you do it enough with the luvvies. Now you’re doing it with Sandy. So why don’t you like her?’

  ‘I’m about to promote her,’ he said, slowing for a pedestrian crossing.

  ‘Which is what tomorrow is about? Good, she deserves it. But why, when you don’t really want her around?’

  ‘I don’t have a problem with her being around,’ he responded. ‘Christ, if everyone put as much effort into the agency as she does we’d never have to worry again.’

  Zelda looked at him. ‘You’re not going to give me an answer, are you?’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘My personal feelings towards Sandy Paull aren’t important enough to discuss,’ he said.

  ‘But you are going to promote her?’

  ‘Probably. We’ve got a couple of things to straighten out first and if I’m satisfied with their outcome she’ll get her promotion.’

  ‘Blimey, what’s going on here?’ Nesta demanded, unbelting her raincoat as she wandered into Sandy’s bedroom and found the contents of Sandy’s wardrobe scattered all over the high mahogany bed. ‘Are you moving out or something?’

  Sandy didn’t even turn round as she continued hunting through what was left in the reproduction armoire and pulled out a blush-pink Escada suit. ‘I’m seeing Michael in the morning,’ she answered, holding the suit up against herself in the mirror.

  Nesta draped her coat across the dressing-table stool, kicked off her boots and climbed up on to the pillows. ‘Don’t you see him every morning?’ she asked, crossing her legs and picking up a hand mirror from the dressing-table to study her large hazel eyes and luscious, heart-shaped lips. ‘Do you think my hair needs a colour?’ she asked, flicking it with her fingers.

  ‘I think he’s going to promote me,’ Sandy said, feeling the excitement close around her heart as she said the words.

  ‘You mean he’s going to give you the job while what’s-her-name’s on maternity leave?’

  Sandy nodded and gave a shudder of nerves. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I expect I’ll find out when I see him in the morning. Oh God, what am I going to wear? What do you think of this?’ she asked, indicating the pink suit.

  Nesta shrugged, then turned to look out of the window as a fire engine screamed past. ‘Depends what you wear with it,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘Are you going out tonight?’

  ‘Yes, later,’ Sandy answered, dropping the suit on the bed and returning to the wardrobe.

  ‘Go like that,’ Nesta suggested, tossing the mirror aside and putting her hands behind her head.

  Sandy laughed. As she was wearing only a black thong, black push-up bra and black hold-up stockings the suggestion wasn’t serious, but the idea of the response it might provoke was definitely appealing.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?’ Nesta yawned.

  ‘Do you reckon this would work?’ Sandy asked, taking a cream silk top from a drawer and matching it to the suit. ‘No,’ she said, answering her own question. ‘Too Cherie Blair. Maybe black. What do you think? I’ve got that see-through stretch lacy top, remember? I could button the jacket up over it. Or no, the suit’s wrong, isn’t it? It’s too dressy for the office. I wonder what colours he likes.’

  ‘You’re obsessed with that man,’ Nesta grumbled. ‘He’s only flesh and blood, for God’s sake, so do what I tell you, go in like that, he’ll probably end up promoting you and screwing you over the desk at the same time.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Sandy shivered. ‘Just the thought of it makes me come over all funny. But it wouldn’t surprise me, once I’m an assistant, if that kind of thing didn’t start happening quite a bit after everyone goes home, because it’s usually just me and him left working late, and I’m telling you, something’s definitely starting to happen between us.’ She giggled to herself. ‘I bet he can’t wait to promote me so we can hurry up and get on with it.’

  Nesta looked at her incredulously as she whisked a short tartan kilt and red lycra top over to the mirror. ‘You really think that getting this job is going to make a difference, don’t you?’ she said.

  Sandy’s head came up to look at her in the mirror.

  Nesta looked back. ‘I mean, you really believe he’s going to fancy you just because he’s made you an assistant to one of his agents,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I don’t …’ Sandy began, her eyes starting to fill with confusion. ‘What are you saying?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m saying that if he fancied you, Sandy, he would have screwed you by now, no matter who you are.’

  ‘No he wouldn’t,’ Sandy responded defensively. ‘I’m only a clerk, remember? He can hardly be seen going out with a measly little clerk, can he?’

  ‘I didn’t say going out,’ Nesta reminded her. ‘I said screw. And believe me, Sandy, that’s about the most you can hope for here, because men like him, they don’t go out with women like you.’

  Sandy’s face was drawing tight with anger and hurt. ‘What do you mean, women like me?’ she demanded.

  Nesta drew in a breath. ‘Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings,’ she said, ‘but the Michael McCanns of this world only get serious about women of their own sort. In other words, women with class. Women like you they just screw.’

  ‘For your information,’ Sandy said, ‘he comes from a working-class background too, so he’s just the same as me.’

  Nesta was shaking her head. ‘He’s nothing like you,’ she said. ‘To start with, the man is well-educated, he’s got money, he’s got more women than he knows what to do with, so what’s he going to want with someone like you? I keep telling you, give it up. You don’t want to be an agent, all you want is to impress him so’s he’ll think you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him and fall madly in love with you and make you queen of the McCann court. Well, he’s never going to do it, I promise you. What he’ll do, maybe, is screw you a couple of times, then dump you. I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I don’t want to see you go on kidding yourself like this. You should get out of that place and start having some fun. I mean, look at me, I’ve just flown back Concorde from New York where I was wined and dined, and stayed at the Plaza and got driven about in a stretch limousine, shopped on Fifth Avenue and saw two Broadway shows, best seats in the house, and do you know what I had to do for all that? Let him watch me put lipstick on my tits. I ask you, what could be easier? There was a whole gang of us, we had a great time. And what were you doing? Stuck here with gay Craig, I’ll bet, going over some crappy writer’s script that’s got even less chance of making it to the screen than you’ve got of making it as Michael McCann’s woman.’

  Sandy’s face was stricken. ‘You’re the one who’s been telling me all this time that I did stand a chance,’ she cried.

  ‘Only of getting screwed,’ Nesta cried back. ‘I’ve never said anything about a long-term relationship, because I know it’s not going to happen.’

  ‘What are you?’ Sandy shouted. ‘Some kind of fortune-teller
or something? You can’t say what he’s going to do, you don’t know what’s going on inside his head. You don’t even know him!’

  ‘I’ve seen that man on three separate occasions now,’ Nesta shot back, ‘and I’m telling you, Sandy, you’re going to end up disappointed. You’re attractive, you’ve got a good body and when you want to, you know how to use it, but even if you end up being the best fuck he’s ever had, I promise you he’s still never going to make you his partner, not in any way, shape or form, because men like him don’t go out in public with girls like you.’

  Sandy’s face was white, her whole body was tense with fury. ‘You mean like you,’ she raged. ‘You’re the one who gets paid for it, not me. I never take money for sex and you know it. I only did it those few times at the beginning, because I didn’t have a choice and no one will ever know about that unless you tell them.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, I’ll never tell them,’ Nesta said. ‘But you’re still going out on dates in a professional capacity and whether or not you’re having sex at the end of the night is irrelevant. The fact is, you do have sex with some of them, at least you do with Maurice, you just don’t take his money. OK, you like him, you get on well with him, but why do you think we pay such a low rent for this place? And the other men? I know you like to think those dates are respectable, but do you honestly think Michael McCann would see it that way? You’re still meeting them through Isabelle Woodcroft, they’re still paying for the privilege of taking you to dinner or a show or wherever you go …’

  ‘He’s taking women out all the time,’ Sandy protested.

  ‘Oh God, Sandy,’ Nesta groaned, ‘it’s not the same and you know it, so stop trying to fool yourself that it is.’

  Sandy glared at her mutinously, not wanting to accept she was right, but unable to defend herself further.

  ‘OK,’ Nesta sighed, starting to regret how blunt she had been, ‘go ahead and try to hook the man, do whatever you think it takes to make yourself his equal, just don’t come crying to me when everything I’ve tried to warn you about starts coming true. Well, you can come crying to me, but why don’t you save yourself the heartache and give up on it now?’