Debbie stood in front of the huge wooden door wondering where the hell the doorbell was. It was one of those ultra-modern homes where all the essentials like light switches and the damn handle to flush toilets were hidden. She'd been in a home like that in New York -some unnecessary party she and the rest of the cast had been invited to. Needless to say, that particular toilet went unflushed.
And why did she have to find the doorbell anyway? Lou had already let her in the security gate. She was probably watching her on a security camera from inside the house. Debbie pounded on the door. She considered flipping off the camera on the overhang with her spare hand, but she thought better of it.
Lou opened the door with a smile. "Hi."
Debbie pushed her hands into her pockets. Feeling awkward and slightly annoyed, she forced herself to smile back.
"Hi." Lou opened the door wider. "Come in."
Debbie took a quick look around but didn't see any other guest.
"Either I'm early, or this isn't party at all."
"A party of three," Lou said. "Me, you, and if things go well, eventually my publicist."
Debbie spun around. "So, I was right. When we met this morning, I was right?"
"Which part?" Lou led Debbie into a meticulously decorated room. A long, white sofa faced floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on a large swimming pool. Debbie was pretty sure she got her period just looking at the sofa.
As living rooms go, this one was a blatant display of wealth. Debbie wasn't impressed. And even if she was, she'd never admit it. she'd met a few A-list actors in her time and rarely did she come away believing they were anything but self-absorbed, egotistical -and okay, yes, they were usually gorgeous to look at, but god they could be shallow pricks.
Lou asked again. "Which part were you right about, Debbie? The gay vibe or not so random plop down?
Feeling like she'd been played, Debbie didn't bother with pleasantries as her eyes lingered on Lou's tits. That dress was certainly hugging her in all the right places, and clearly the moment called for just the right blend of bitchy and coy. "Play your cards right and maybe I'll tell you."
Lou didn't acknowledge the comment. She sat in a chair and motioned for Debbie to sit on the sofa. A bottle and two glasses were perfectly placed on the coffee table. "Wine?"
Debbie sat down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Trying to get me drunk?"
Lou suppressed a grin. "You're not a pushover. I like that."
"I'm a little jaded." Debbie stared at Lou intently, trying to read her expression. In other words, trying to figure out why the hell she was there. The house was empty. Dead quiet, except for some depressing classical music playing in the background. And so tidy, she wondered if anyone actually lived there.
"I don't blame you. Child actor. Smart. A bit of a has-been..."
"Five minutes off camera and I'm a has-been?" God, this woman!
Lou offered Debbie a glass. "It's been a year, hasn't it?"
"A hard year." Debbie took a large sip of wine, almost emptying the glass. Then, she titled her head and frowned. "And now I have to wonder how you know that. Surely you have better things to do than watch soaps all day."
"That was my mother. Still is, I'm sure."
"So, you didn't grow up watching the soaps with your mom?"
"I was too busy studying and playing the piano and trying to be perfect daughter."
"Oh." Debbie seemed to have hit a nerve. She could've commented on how Lou had succeeded by the looks of it. She was perfectly dressed in her, what is that color called? Oh yeah, cornflower summer dress with matching sandals, sitting like such a lady with her hands clasped on legs crossed at the ankle. Instead, she leaned forward and held her glass out for a reffil.
"Nice wine."
"Glad you like it." Lou filled the glass and resumed her ladylike position.
Debbie wondered if they still had finishing schools. If so, surely Lou had been, you know, finished at one. She noticed a blush working its way up Lou's chest, probably due the awkward silence that was, if Debbie had to guess, going on 45 seconds now. It looked as though Lou was trying to came up with a good way to say what was really on her mind. Debbie didn't have time for that. "Maybe we could talk about why I'm here?"
Almost seeming relieved by the suggestion, Lou's shoulders relaxed slightly. "I have a proposition for you."
"Are you going to save my career?"
"Maybe," Lou said. "Quite possibly. Most likely." She gave a firm nod. "Yes."
Debbie didn't hesitate. "All of those work for me."
"I can guarantee you'll get a lot of publicity. What you do with it is completely up to you."
"Guess I didn't need all that college to figure out Lou Miller introducing herself at Starbucks probably wasn't a random encounter." Debbie tried to hide her smile by taking a sip of wine. Whatever this was, it was starting to get interesting.
Their eyes met for a few seconds and then Lou said, "Look, you were right. I don't frequent West Hollywood or even Starbucks. I guess it's just easier to make coffee with my"-she gestured toward the kitchen-"Robospresso 3000 or whatever the hell it is."
Debbie looked over her shoulder, and sure enough, there was a rather large stainless-steel espresso machine sitting on the kitchen counter. She tried not to let her envy show.
"And it's easier to pretend you're straight when you're not hanging out in West Hollywood?"
"Nah, I just can't deal with the traffic on La Cienega." Lou averted her eyes, killing her chances of selling the joke.
Debbie stared intently until Lou finally met her gaze. Oh. Good. God. She kept herself from squealing with pride at being right.
"Are you willing to sign a non-disclosure before I make you an offer?" Lou asked. And there it was.
Debbie chuckled. "I'm not going to out you, if that's what you're asking."
Lou slid the non-disclosure contract across the coffee table, along with a pen. Debbie took a look at it and rolled her eyes. With a big sigh, she leaned forward and quickly signed on the dotted line.
Lou looked at the signature and scowled. "Is that really how you sign your name? It looks like Dicky...Ocean."
"It doesn't matter," Debbie quipped. "So, you're gay?"
Debbie immediately regretted asking the question. She could still hear her producers asking her the same thing with a look of horror on their faces. They blamed her firing on wanting to take the storyline in a different direction, but she knew better. She'd been fired for one reason and one only reason.
"In about four months, I'm going to make a big announcement," Lou said.
Debbie set her glass on the table. She eyed Lou for a moment, trying to decide how much personal information she could divulge. "Can I give you some advice?" she asked, in a serious tone.
"Only if it's constructive."
"Stay in the closet."
Lou stiffened the suggestion. "I can't. I want a life."
"That's what I thought too, and then my producers decided I was no longer believable playing a straight woman. I'd been Annie Fucking Porter since I was ten, and now all of sudden, I'm no longer believable in that role?"
"I know," Lou said. "Look... like I said before, this is a shitty business. But if you take this offer, maybe the jerks who fired you will regret it."
"The producers of that show were like my parents," Debbie snapped back. "I grew up with them, and they turned their backs on me."
She took a deep breath, trying to fight back her emotions. Lou gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know the feeling. It's amazing how many people are brilliant at pretending they care about you."
"Right? And we're supposed to be the actors."
Lou leaned forwards. "But one way or another, you're going to need to move on."
"That's what I've been trying to do. It's the whole reason I'm in L.A." Debbie was losing her patience, and the last thing she wanted to do was talk about all the hurt and anger she felt about losing her job. And she still didn't know why she was there, for god's sake. So Lou Miller was gay. Why the hell did that have to do with her? "What's your offer?"
"I'm not going to do this coming out thing willy-nilly. It's going to be a finely tuned show that I control."
"Smart. Unlike me who went into work into work one day and said 'Hey, this is my girlfriend. Aren't you fucking delighted for me?'" Debbie dropped her gaze as she relived that awful moment, the fake smiles and the quick change of subject. One of the producers refused to even look her in the eye the rest of the day. It was the beginning of the end of everything. Her career, her relationship -all gone now.
The last thing Debbie wanted to do was cry in front of Lou Miller in her damn mansion. She might ruin the very soft rug under her feet that looked like it was made of cotton candy. It was pretty. Azure blue. Since when am I such an expert on shades of blue? And cornflower? Where the hell did that come from? Get a grip, Debb. Get a fucking grip.
"My publicist thinks I have a believability issue," Lou said. "It's his somewhat expert opinion that the media, and more importantly, the public, will be more sympathetic toward me if I have a girlfriend when I come out."
Debbie raised her head, a look of confusion written all over her face.
"Wait. What?"
"My publicist..."
Debbie put up her hand. "No, I heard you." She paused for approximately 400 years. Lou couldn't possibly be suggesting what Debbie thought she was suggesting. "You want me to pretend to be your... girlfriend?"
"Yes," Lou said with a firm nod. "I would pay you, of course. We'd start with some photos of us out in public, not canoodling, just together having dinner or whatever. They'll be of no interest until I come out. And then, according to Lin at least, they'll be fascinating proof that we've been dating."
Debbie let a small laugh slip out of her gaping mouth. Was this woman insane? And did she seriously just use the word, canoodle?
"Well," Debbie cleared her throat and put up a finger. "There's just one problem. You see, I don't know if I could handle being out in public with the Lou Miller and not canoodle."
Lou blushed. "Come on. You know what I mean."
"Yes, I know what you mean," Debbie said. "And I'm flattered, but I don't think I can do what you're suggesting."
Lou's shoulders straightened, looking surprised by the response. "I'm not asking for romance, if that's what you're thinking."
"And I'm not a prostitute, if that's what you're thinking." Debbie threw her hands in the air. "Why don't you just find the real thing? Start dating. Canoodle all you want."
"I can't control that," Lou calmly stated. "Women are crazy, and a woman in love is even crazier. I don't want any emotion from you. This is a job and I would expect you to treat it as such."
"Women are crazy? You must have met my ex!" Debbie couldn't believe she was having this conversation. If anyone seemed crazy, it was Lou Miller. She put her face in her hands and rubbed her forehead. Desperate for a paying gig, she tried to ignore how ludicrous the idea seemed to be. "What are the terms?"
"Steady pay for a year," Lou said. "You be where I ask, when I ask. There'll be some wardrobe considerations, of course. And anything you say publicly will be tightly controlled. Most importantly, you act. I hear you're not half bad."
"You HEAR?" Feeling completely insulted, Debbie's voice raised a couple of octaves. "You've never even seen my work and you're offering me a job?"
"I trust Lin's opinion on that."
"Sure. Publicist. Casting director. What's the difference, really?" Debbie had imagined any number of scenarios on the drive to the Palisades. This craziness wasn't one of them.
"Do you want the job or not?"
This was insane. Did people really do this? Debbie grabbed her purse and stood up. "No, I don't."
Lou also stood up. "But...you need the work."
"Not this kind of work!" Debbie said, almost shouting.
Lou's expression changed from confusion to anger. "You're above this, is that it? Because being a soap star is so admirable?"
"I'm an actor," Debbie said, pointing at herself. "And on top of that, I'm well educated." She put her hand on her hip, furious she'd braved L.A. traffic for this nonsense. "This is just...bullshit!" she said, throwing that same hand in the air.
Lou remained calm, even though Debbie was practically yelling at her. "Bullshit? So, tell me, Debbie, what was your last storyline before you got fired? No, let me guess. You were playing Annie Fucking Porter and her long-lost evil twin?"
Debbie held Lou's stare, her eyes full of anger. She was fuming and damn near burning Lou with her glare. At least that's how it felt until she burst out laughing. "Oh God. My TV husband couldn't tell us apart. They had me doing so many love scenes with him, who knows? Maybe I really wasn't that believable anymore. As if believability is what the writers were ever going for on that show." She dropped her purse, sat back down, and grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring the last of it into her glass. She took a sip, her hand shaking slightly.
Lou also sat down and picked up her glass. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, my mother would probably be thrilled if I brought you home. As my friend, of course."
Debbie looked up in surprise. "Your mom doesn't know you're gay?"
"No, not yet."
God, what a mess! Debbie groaned at herself. She should've left the second Lou revealed her intentions. So why the hell was she still sitting here? Sure, she needed the money, but not that badly. As for the fame, Debbie was no Lou, but she still had her fans. Plenty of them. And yet, she was still here, actually considering this absurdity. "I take it I'll be playing the part of the dumped girlfriend eventually?"
"Yes. We'll break up and we'll both move on. Everyone will know your name and I'll start dating. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll even find the real thing one day. It's win-win."
"And what do we tell the people close to us?" Debbie asked.
"You start now. You tell them you met me and I was super nice," Lou said with a smile.
"So, I'd be acting right off the bat?"
Lou's eyes widened in surprise. "Damn, you're sassy!"
Debbie set the wine glass back down. If she kept drinking, she wouldn't be able to drive back down the steep, hair-pin curved road that brought her here. "Sorry. You caught me on a bad week and this whole thing just reeks of everything I hate about this business."
"They don't call it show business for nothing," Lou gently quipped.
Debbie looked at the ceiling and shook her head, unable to believe she was actually considering this. "If I take this job, as you call it, where will I live?"
"There's a guesthouse out back. I'd prefer it if you stayed there, so we can control the paparazzi. My home is very secure. The backyard is private. There's a side gate, so you can come and go as you please. I think you'd be quite comfortable here. The only thing I ask is that you don't bring any guests here."
Debbie stood up and walked over to the world's largest window. It was getting dark, but she could easily see a long, lighted pool that looked like it poured over a cliff and into the ocean. A sleek, modern-looking guesthouse sat off to one side, and a fire pit sat in the opposite corner. As for the neighbors-if there were any, you'd never know it. The property was lined with tall, narrow evergreens that created an impressive privacy hedge on each side. The whole scene called to mind exactly two words. Skinny. Dipping.
Compared to her tiny hotel room in West Hollywood, this would feel like paradise. And Lou hadn't said Debbie couldn't keep looking for real acting jobs. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? She could swallow her damn pride for once, couldn't she?
Debbie turned back around and folded her arms. "I want everything in writing. I want an early termination bonus in case you decide you don't like me and change your mind. And I want to be able to keep auditioning."
Lou stood up. "I already don't like you, Debbie. You have that New York bullshit attitude that rubs me the wrong way, but my publicist tells me you're a hell of an actress and that's what I need on my arm. The fact that I would never consider dating you is probably a good thing."
Debbie went back over to the sofa and grabbed her purse. "Fuck you too. And tell your publicist I want an advance," she said, walking to the door. "And a car! A nice one!" she shouted over her shoulder.
Lou followed Debbie to the front door. "Do you think I'd let my girlfriend drive a..." Lou looked out at the driveway. "What is that? A Hyundai?"
"It's a Sonata, thank you very much. The fancy kind of Hyundai."
Lou laughed. "Uh-huh."
Debbie gave her a sarcastic scowl. She stepped out of the house and glanced at the white Maserati sitting in the driveway. "I prefer black," she said as she sauntered over to her rental car.
"Of course you do," Lou muttered under her breath.
"And watch my fucking show!" Debbie yelled as she climbed into her car and slammed the door. Lou gave her a little wave, smiling like she hadn't even heard that last request. Debbie put the key in the ignition and whispered, "What have I gotten myself into?"