the screenplay lying on the table next to the water jug. ‘Where d’ya get this thing, Tone? Jeez, that’s the crappiest title I ever heard in my life.’
‘I know. But the script’s bloody good. In fact it’s amazing,’ said Tony. ‘Don’t pick it up.’
‘Bluddy good, bluddy good, amaaayzing.’ Marvin chuckled; it cracked him up to imitate Tony’s accent. ‘So who wrote it?’
‘No one you know. Just leave it. Here, have a drink. Are you hungry?’ Oh, it was so easy to wind Marvin up. Reverse psychology was a wonderful thing. Tony covertly watched as his agent picked up the script and turned to the first page.
In all honesty, it wasn’t the best first page in the world. Ninety-nine percent of agents would have given up. Then again, ninety-nine percent of agents didn’t have Tony Weston saying, as if he meant it, ‘I’m serious, Marvin, put it down, it’s nothing to do with you.’
What could be more enticing than that?
Tony got on with signing his way through the contracts Marvin had brought over. And he waited. When several more minutes had passed, he said, ‘Well?’
‘Interesting. Different.’ Marvin’s Prada shades were pushed up on to his shiny red forehead. If it had been physically possible, he would have been frowning. ‘There’s no part in it for you.’
‘I know. But I have a real feeling about this script. You know how sometimes you just get that? And it never does any harm to be the person who introduces the right script to the right producer. I have a few contacts that—’
‘Hello, mission control? Who has more contacts in this business? You or me?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Cor-rect.’ Marvin pointed a stubby finger at him. ‘I do. Who works for one of the biggest talent agencies in the country? Oh, wow, would ya believe it, me again. Tone, do the right thing here, wouldja? Just let me take care of this, let me take it back to the agency and show it to Stephen. If anyone can get a buzz going, he can.’
Tony hid a smile. In the space of a few minutes he hadn’t done such a bad job on the buzz front himself. But that was this industry for you. Appear desperate and you’re dead in the water. Tell someone they can’t have something and they’ll snap your hand off. Even now, Marvin was flicking through the pages of the screenplay with a greedy, acquisitive glint in his eye.
Welcome to Hollywood, baby.
***
‘Darling, come on, just say yes. You know you want to really.’
OK, the time had come. Zack prepared himself for the imminent fallout. He hadn’t actually planned for this to happen this evening, here in Louisa’s flat, but she had forced his hand. Throughout dinner all she’d talked about was holidays. Friends of hers had rented a luxury villa in Tuscany in late August and were keen for Louisa and Zack to join them, but they now needed a definite answer by tomorrow, presumably so that if they were turned down they could move on to the next couple on the list.
Zack also presumed that since it was already mid-July, he and Louisa hadn’t been anywhere near the top of it.
But Louisa had been enthralled by her friends’ offer and was longing to go. Now, desperate to persuade him that he did too, she was giving him her playful, encouraging look. ‘Think about how fabulous it’ll be. And best of all, it’s adults only! No ghastly screaming kids to ruin the ambience and fill the pool with inflatables.’ Evidently inflatables in a pool were on a par with used condoms. ‘Just glorious peace and quiet, wonderful food, grown-up conversation, and fine wine. What could be more idyllic?’
By grown-up conversation, needless to say, she meant endless discussions about which celebrity had the best face-lift. Right, here we go. Brace, brace. Zack said, ‘Honestly? It doesn’t sound that idyllic to me. My idea of a great holiday is going home to Cornwall and piling down to the beach with my nephews and nieces. We play volleyball and dig holes in the sand, we eat ice cream, we throw each other into the sea, and we make a lot—and I mean a lot—of noise.’
‘Oh!’ Louisa sat back, startled. ‘Oh… sorry, I had no idea.’ Mentally regrouping, she said hastily, ‘But that sounds nice too! Look, maybe we could pop down to see your family before we go to Italy…’
‘I really don’t think you’d like it,’ said Zack. ‘There are babies, there are dogs, there are whoopee cushions.