After the dishes had been taken away and they were lingering over wine, Maddy mentioned the strange homemade wine she’d had in Steven’s Venetian kitchen. “So that’s what you really want?” Irina asked. “Italian wine, and your own palazzo, and a mansion in L.A.?”
“It’s not about any of that,” Maddy answered. “It’s about Steven.”
“You don’t have any regrets? After all those years with Dan, you just wash your hands?”
“You know, I think I was in denial. He was so loving after my father died that I convinced myself it wasn’t already over.” As she said it, she started to believe it. “He wasn’t as into sex as I was. And he was in a bad mood all the time. Steven’s nothing like that. I’ve never met anyone who enjoys life the way he does. Food and drink and art. He has this incredible collection. Ed Ruscha.”
Irina narrowed her eyes, a look Maddy remembered her giving right before she gave a scathing critique of a classmate’s work in Blood Wedding. “What?” Maddy asked.
“Nothing.”
“Just say it.”
“It’s—I always thought creative respect was the most important thing to you. In your relationships.”
“It is!”
“But how can you respect Steven Weller?”
“I do respect him. You’re the one who doesn’t.”
“Is it possible you’re in such a sex haze that you’re deluding yourself into thinking you like his acting?”
Maddy tensed up. “No. It’s not just about sex. He cares what I think about his work. Like, he wants my feedback. I want to sleep next to him every night and wake up looking at him.”
Irina gave her another long, level gaze. Maddy knew she would feel the same way if the roles were reversed, and yet she wished Irina could be the slightest bit happy for her. Steven Weller wanted her.
But Irina saw the world in terms of hacks versus artists, and to her, Steven would always be a hack. “You promise to come visit,” Irina asked, “even after you’re making a million dollars a movie and you have a stylist, a hairdresser, and a personal publicist?”
“I don’t know about all that stuff,” Maddy said, “but of course I’ll visit. I’ll be back and forth all the time.” From Irina’s look, Maddy could tell her friend thought she’d never see her again.
Bridget and Steven were in the backseat of Steven’s Highlander, where they conducted most of their business. Steven had a vintage Arcadian-blue Mustang for pleasure, but his everyday car was the Highlander. Usually, Bridget would join him on his way somewhere, and during the hour they spent in traffic, they would get more business accomplished than they did at her office.
It was a sweltering late-April Thursday, and Steven’s driver, Alan, was taking them to the set of Jen, a network comedy about a single girl living with her brother. Maddy had booked a guest spot, and Steven had taken the afternoon off from his own film, Declarations (about an unhinged underwriter), so he could watch her on set.
Bridget had been surprised when Steven told her he wanted to watch Maddy; usually, his shoots overtook every aspect of his life, including romantic. But she was pleased to see him taking such interest. It was a good sign for Husbandry that he was engaged by her process.
When Bridget left them alone in Venice, she had wondered when it would happen, but she had not been sure. One morning in Bulgaria, after Steven had phoned Bridget to update her, Dan arrived on set in a rage. “You did this! You drove them together!” the boy screamed in front of the Valentine crew, who were readying a complicated crane shot. Bridget whisked him away, explaining to him that she had done nothing of the sort. People loved whom they loved. “Try to see your work as an escape,” she had counseled him. “It’s a gift to have this job to keep you busy.”
The next few days, he had been distracted at work, but he soon regained his focus, though he was visibly colder to Bridget, which she didn’t mind. She preferred him blaming her to blaming Maddy. She was used to taking the fall for clients; it was part of being a manager. Rachel Huber spent a lot of time talking to him, which Bridget felt was kind of her, looking out for him in a time of need.
In the Highlander, Steven and Bridget had been discussing the upcoming DVD commentary for The Widower, and he was glowering. It had gotten its theatrical release a few weeks before, and it wasn’t performing. She had been convinced it was one of Steven’s best performances, but reviewers had called him “stiff” and “miscast as a loser.” She had reassured him that it took time to reinvent oneself as an actor, to make risky choices. He had to keep being brave; they were reshaping an almost fifteen-year-old image.
She was confident that Husbandry would establish him, once and for all, as an actor and not just a star. Juhasz and Weller were a collaboration for the ages, old Hollywood and new. Whenever Walter made a film, critics rewatched and remembered all the great movies he had made in the 1970s. Louis was a braver role than the lead in The Widower. A husband with rage and erectile issues. Anger and ED were practically guaranteed Oscar bait.
When her phone rang, she hesitated. She never liked to take calls while conducting business with Steven. But he was looking down at an email and nodded for her to answer. “Tim Heller,” her assistant said. Bridget and Tim had been trading calls.
“I just saw the screener for I Used to Know Her,” said Tim, an officious Brit. “And I was dazzled by Maddy Freed. My next project is Freda Jansons, and I want her to read for me.”
“Tell me more,” Bridget said, though Nancy Watson-Eckstein had sent her the screenplay a few days ago to pass along to Maddy. Bridget had taken a quick glance at it—it was a long and long-winded biopic—but when she saw that the shoot dates conflicted with Husbandry, she had tossed it.
“It’s based on a true story in the 1950s about an autistic scientist,” Tim continued, “who figures out how to cure a senator’s son.” Steven had finished his call and Bridget put Tim on speaker. “It’s a biopic with a lot of freewheeling elements.”
“You know she’s doing the Walter Juhasz in June, July, and August.”
“We go into production in July,” Tim said.
“Well, there you go. She’s unavailable.”
“Has she read the script?”
“Not yet.”
“She should. I’m sure Walter would accommodate—I mean, he’s known for a lot of production delays.”
“You know, Tim,” Bridget said, “I’ll certainly take you up on a general, but I can’t put her in two places at once. Besides, she signed the contract. There’s nothing I can do.”
After she hung up, Bridget looked at Steven. He had changed so rapidly since he’d met Maddy. None of the other girls had affected him like this. His hair seemed thicker and his complexion was ruddy. What those two had together, it wasn’t just sex. When he was in Maddy’s company, he gave her his full attention. He leaned in when she spoke.
“There’s something different about you these days,” Bridget said.
“What?”
“You’re more playful. And you seem healthier. It’s in your step.”
“I cannot tell you how lucky I am to have such a bright, talented woman in my life.”
Bridget inspected her nails and turned to Steven. “It makes me happy to see you so happy. You’re less . . . tethered.”