“I know you do. You and Steven are similar that way. You two work harder than anyone I know.”
Kira seemed to have matured over the past year. She seemed less outrageous and more serious. “Steven works at a lot of things,” Kira said.
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean that my goal isn’t exactly to be compared to him in the hard-working actor department.”
“Why not?”
“I have other idols.”
Trying not to take her bait, Maddy said, “It’s kind of insane that so much has happened to us since Mile’s End.”
“Yeah, who knew?”
She and Kira had never spoken of their kiss, which seemed like it had happened years ago and not months. Maddy felt the need to smooth things over. “When we were together,” Maddy said, “I mean, that night at the festival, I just want to say—I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Kira asked.
“Because I was lonely. And I—I used you.”
“Huh. You used me.”
“Isn’t that what happened?”
Maddy could see Zack and Reggie approaching. Kira said, “I don’t think so at all. I went for you, remember? I was drunk. You could have been anyone.”
The other two had sat down. Maddy lowered her head, not wanting to talk about it in front of Reggie. “Don’t be weird about it, Maddy,” Kira said. “Everyone at film festivals hooks up. Reggie knows we sucked face at Mile’s End. Zack, too. He’s not just my agent. He’s my friend.”
Zack glanced away, evidently not wanting to embarrass Maddy further. On the dance floor, Dan and Oded were doing 1970s-style moves to the delight of all the girls. “You didn’t tell Dan, did you?” Maddy asked.
“No, but I can tonight, if you want me to.” Kira started to get up, bluffing or not bluffing. With Kira, it was impossible to know.
“No!” Maddy said a little too loudly. “What would be the point?”
“I want both of you to know,” Zack said, raising his eyebrows Groucho Marx–style, “that I would have no problem representing two actresses who have sexual history. It’s excellent publicity for the agent.”
Maddy felt as though they were all making fun of her. She wanted to melt into the floor. “You know what your problem is, Maddy?” Kira asked, slurring her words. “You get all worked up over stupid stuff. It’s because you think you’re the center of the universe.”
“I don’t think I’m the center of the universe,” Maddy said.
“Even before you married Steven, with your fancy French honeymoon, and your, like, fifty-bedroom mansion, you always thought you were better. Better than Sharoz and me and even Dan. You looked down on us.”
“Kira,” Reggie said, putting her hand on Kira’s arm. Kira shook her off with irritation.
“I don’t look down on any of you!” Maddy cried. “I just told you how good you were in the film.” She looked at Zack pleadingly, hoping he could explain it, but he was examining the grain of the table.
“All you ever wanted was fame,” Kira barreled on. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to be famous, too, but there are limits to what I’ll do. I’m not as cynical as you. No matter how much I believed someone could help me, I wouldn’t do what you did.”
“What are you talking about?” Maddy asked.
“The contract, of course.”
Did Kira know about her postnup? Had it been reported on the Internet? Reggie was trying to whisper in Kira’s ear, but Kira was dodging her.
“What contract?” Maddy asked.
“I told you it’s not true,” Zack said to Kira.
“Oh God, don’t pretend you don’t know,” Kira exploded. “It’s all over the Internet. The marriage contract. For appearances. The one that pays you a salary to be his wife. You have to go out with him to public events and smile for photos, but you don’t have to fuck him. You get a million a year plus a million-dollar bonus for each baby, and you agree to do IVF with his sperm so the baby looks like him, too. And you get a bump to two million if he wants you to stay more than five years, but when it’s over, you get nothing.”
She didn’t like that “million a year” figure; it paralleled the postnup too closely. But a payout to appear as someone’s wife? Who came up with this kind of thing? Did people do this? She couldn’t tell if Kira believed it or was pretending to believe it to provoke her.
All her friends were turning against her. Dan being crass about Steven, and now Kira accusing her of taking money, like some kind of high-class prostitute.
“I don’t know where you read this,” she said, “but just because something is on the Internet doesn’t make it true,” She looked at Zack for help. “There is no marriage contract. Zack, tell her.”
“There’s no contract,” he said. “Kira, leave her alone. You had too much to drink.” At least he wasn’t rushing to defend Kira.
“Yeah, honey,” Reggie said. “Let’s go outside. Get some air.” She helped Kira to her feet in the platforms.
“Steven and I love each other,” Maddy said. “It was messy, I’m not saying it wasn’t. But it’s real. How could you not think it was real? What kind of person do you think I am?”
Reggie was guiding Kira away from the table. “Why don’t you go back to your haunted mansion with your old man,” Kira said to Maddy, “where you belong? Why waste one more minute with the riffraff?” And with that, she stumbled toward the door.
7
Maddy learned that Steven was to play Tommy Hall when she was driving to the set of Line Drive, flipping channels on the car radio. It was a few weeks after the I Used to Know Her premiere. She wasn’t even paying attention, just wanted sound for the car, and then she heard a talk-radio guy mentioning Steven’s name. Tommy Hall, who had been created by the novelist Jerome Roundhouse, was a legendary character with an insatiable appetite for sex and risk and a constant stream of bons mots. A divorcé with several ex-wives, he had a hankering for attractive women half his age. Roundhouse, a reclusive man in Connecticut, had written eight Tommy novels and for many years had refused to sell the rights, but the guy on the radio was saying Roundhouse had made a deal. The first adaptation was The Hall Fixation.
The radio sidekick, a woman, thought Steven was sexy, but the man, a shock jock with a nicotine voice, thought he was too old. Maddy had never heard Steven mention Tommy Hall. Her first thought was that it was a hoax, one of those radio gags they did to attract more listeners.
She pulled over and typed “Steven Weller Tommy Hall” into her phone. At least a dozen items popped up, all opening with some version of “Apollo Pictures has announced that Steven Weller is to play the iconic spy Tommy Hall in a three-picture deal.”
So it was real. If all these outlets were saying so, it had to be. She dialed Steven but got his voice mail.
When she arrived on her set, the cast and crew were abuzz about the Tommy deal, congratulating her, asking her to send him their good wishes. She nodded faintly, the only saving grace that she had heard it on the radio so she didn’t look like a complete idiot.
That night she was to meet Steven at the Italian restaurant on Beverly Boulevard. When she arrived five minutes early, he was already waiting in the garden. She could sense diners watching her as she paraded to the rear. As he stood, she felt her face crumple. She sat quickly so no one could see her, lowered her head, and said, “How could you not tell me?”
“The studio was going to announce it Thursday,” he said, “but it leaked, so they had to move forward with it. I was going to tell you Wednesday.”