Paula clicked off, loving this. Finally, after years of mediocrity, she was in control of her career again. She had to savor this, relish it.
As Paula was fixing a drink in the limo’s understocked bar — she was going to complain to Charles Ardai about this later — Kat said, “Did you really have to speak to her that way?”
“Who?” Paula asked.
“That assistant — Britney?”
“These people work for me,” Paula said.
“But you don’t have to be, like, such a bitch about it. You’re acting like my fuckin’ sisters.”
“Your sisters are famous, but I’m a star,” Paula said. “There’s a difference, right, Lars?”
Lars was staring at his iPhone; Jesus Christ, what was it with the Swedes and Apple products? And he wasn’t watching porn again, was he? Yes he was — Paula caught a glimpse of a gang-bang.
“For fuck’s sake, can you turn that shit off?” she said.
“Vut shit?” Lars asked, practically screaming, because he was listening with earbuds.
“That horrible, sexist crap,” Paula said. “It’s okay when we’re writing about Max Fisher because we’re, like, in character, but it’s degrading to women.”
“I don’t think it’s so degrading,” Kat said.
“Well, aren’t you Miss Oppositional today?” Paula said. “If I said I want to fuck Angelina Jolie would you argue that too?”
“I think porn is empowering,” Kat said.
“Watching four guys taking turns sodomizing a chick when she’s bound and gagged is empowering?”
“If the woman is in control, yes.”
“How is she in control if she’s bound and gagged?”
“Maybe she wants to be bound and gagged.”
“You mean maybe she’s drugged? High on PIMP?”
“Most porn stars don’t take drugs,” Kat said.
“Really, and how do you know? Have you ever been in a porno?”
“Yes, actually.”
Lars’s eyes bulged. He went, “Vut film? I must know title.”
“I made a couple of movies actually,” Kat said, “with this rabbi I knew in Israel.”
“You made a porno with a rabbi?” Paula asked.
“These were amateur movies, just for Israel.”
“Some of the best porn is in Israel,” Lars said. “Not many people know this.”
“Good, so why don’t you watch with Lars, knock yourself out, get your rocks off.”
Paula downed the rest of her drink and made another, wondering what she was doing with Kat. She’d been into her because she was a Kardashian and because she was, let’s face it, hot, but she was starting to understand why her family had disowned her.
Paula’s cell rang, Donna James, going, “I’m so sorry to make you wait, Paula. How was your flight into L.A.?”
“Hideously awful.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m super excited about your reading tonight.”
Why were people in L.A. always super excited? Wasn’t it enough to just be excited?
“Well, I’m super pissed off with your fucking agency,” Paula said. “I’m in town with my entourage on our book tour, and my meeting with Darren Becker and Lionsgate still hasn’t been arranged.”
“Actually I just got off the phone with Lionsgate,” Paula said. “Unfortunately they can’t meet today, but I’ve set up a meeting for you with Darren Becker and his producing partner, for you and Lars, at three p.m. I’ll text you the address.”
“Whoa, whoa, back up,” Paula said. “Producing partner? I thought Darren was the only producer on this project.”
“No, that’s changed. He’s working with Brandi Love.”
“Brandi who?”
“Love.”
“Sounds like a porno name.”
“Vut?” Lars had rabbit ears.
“Nothing,” Paula said to Lars. “Go back to your gangbang.”
“I’m sorry?” Donna asked.
“Not you,” Paula said. “Who’s this Brandi?”
“She’s a new name for me too,” Donna said, “but Darren has been raving about her. Oh, and Darren will tell you the great news about the screenwriter they’ve hired. His name’s Bill Moss and there’s a lot of heat on him around town right now.”
“I wish someone had informed me about all this,” Paula said. “Does Lee Child find out about his screenwriters third-hand?”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Donna said. “Next time there’s news I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”
The traffic was so bad that they didn’t have time to check into their hotel, and they went straight to the meeting with Becker. It was at Becker’s office, on the second floor of a modest building in Westwood. Paula was expecting something more upscale; what the fuck?
Paula, Lars, and Kat entered together. While Paula was still upset with Kat she thought the pros of having her along outweighed the cons.
Darren Becker came out to greet them. He was lean and tan with artificially white teeth, wearing a shirt with only two buttons buttoned, like Hank Moody in Californication.
Becker shook hands as Paula made the introductions, emphasizing that Kat was “Kat Kardashian.”
“It’s great to finally meet you,” Becker said, as he led the group along a hallway to his office. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be working on this project. And Brandi, my producing partner, is super excited as well.”
In the office, a blonde was waiting. Paula’s first thought was, Holy shit, she’s hot. Her second thought was, Holy shit, how is this possible?
“This... this can’t be happening,” Paula said, staring at the woman.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Kat asked.
Becker, with his permanent smile, went, “Brandi Love meet Paula Segal.”
“You’re... you’re supposed to be dead,” Paula said.
“Bigfoot revived me,” Angela said.
“Lars is confused,” Lars said.
“This isn’t Brandi Love,” Paula said. “This is Angela Petrakos... from Bust.”
“Wait, Brandi Love, I know your work,” Lars said. “You are star of Brandi and Ginger, yes?”
“In the flesh,” Angela said.
“Wait,” Paula said to Angela. “You were in porn too?”
“I’ve had a dark few years, yes,” Angela said.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Kat said.
Lars, ready to drop to his knees, gushed, “It is a great honor to be in your presence.”
“I still can’t believe you’re alive,” Paula said to Angela. “And I can’t believe I’m here, actually with you. The next thing you’ll tell me is that Max Fisher and that Lee Child wannabe are alive too.”
“I don’t know about Max,” Angela said, “but I actually saw Sebastian the other day at the Chateau Marmont.”
“Funny you mention Lee Child,” Becker said. “I met his brother at my health club the other day. Get this, he was trying to pitch me to be the screenwriter of Bust.”
“Over my fookin’ dead body,” Angela said.
“I’ve already seen your fookin’ dead body,” Paula said. “What was this about Bigfoot?”
An old sleazy guy, a squat Latino with a mustache, and a young guy in ripped jeans and a hoodie entered.
“Speaking of the screenwriter,” Becker said.
Paula leaned in to Kat, whispered into her ear, “Is this a producing team or the world’s ugliest boy band?”
The old guy came over and Paula shook his sweaty hand as he said, “Larry Reed, A-List producer.”
The Latino guy said, “Yo, I’m Eddie Vegas, I’m Executive Producer too.”
“Co-Executive Producer,” Larry said to Eddie.