“That fucking sucks,” she declared.
“Hey.” SondraBeth shrugged. “I survived. So that was my childhood. What about yours?”
“Mine?” Pandy laughed. “It was terrible. My sister and I were the cootie queens of the school.”
“You?” SondraBeth shook her head. “No way.”
“We were pretty isolated. I never even went to see a movie in a movie theater until I was sixteen. Before that, I thought most movies were like those old black-and-white films on TV.”
“Christ,” SondraBeth said. “Where the hell did you grow up?”
“In Connecticut.” Pandy smiled viciously. “In the smallest town on the planet. Called…” She hesitated. “Wallis.”
SondraBeth’s eyes bugged out of her head. “You’ve got a
town
named after you, sista?”
Pandy waved this away. “It’s hardly a town. More of a village. My great-great-great-something founded it back in the early 1700s. And then they just stayed there.”
“What about your parents?”
“They died in a car crash when I was twenty. So I’m kind of an orphan.”
“What about your sister?”
Pandy hesitated. SondraBeth had just revealed one of her deepest secrets; for the first time in her life, Pandy was tempted to disclose her own.
Except it wasn’t her secret to reveal. “She lives in Amsterdam,” Pandy said quickly. “I haven’t seen her for a while.”
“Why on earth would anyone live in Amsterdam, except for the pot?”
“I guess she likes it there.” Pandy’s voice sounded unintentionally forlorn.
“Oh, Peege! I’m sorry,” SondraBeth exclaimed. She got on her hands and knees and crawled across the bed toward Pandy. She flung her arms open and pulled Pandy’s head to her chest, patting her on the back. “Don’t be sad. From now on,
I’ll
be your sister.”
And she had been. For a while, anyway. But what SondraBeth didn’t know was that even sisters didn’t last forever.
L
OOKING BACK
on it, Pandy realized that she, too, should have known better. She should have understood the dangers of being so close with SondraBeth, and how the success of Monica would inevitably drive them apart. But she’d never suspected that a man—Doug Stone—would end up being the lever, inserting himself into their friendship like a wedge.
And she certainly should have known better about Doug.
But once again, when it came to romance, hope trumped common sense.
Three years had passed since that raucous party at the Chateau Marmont where SondraBeth claimed Pandy had made out with Doug in a drunken moment that Pandy still couldn’t remember.
During those three years, Doug had been proclaimed the next big thing. Named one of
People
magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive—which in turn landed him on the cover of
Vanity Fair
—he was now a genuine movie star. During a cold, blustery February, while Pandy was celebrating the success of another Monica book and the second Monica movie was in production, Doug Stone arrived in New York.
Pandy was seated at one of the coveted front tables at Joules when Doug came in with a posse that included a director and a womanizing television star. They were shown to the next table. Doug recognized Pandy; it wasn’t long before one table joined the other and Pandy found herself next to Doug, reminiscing.
They laughed about the crazy party in her suite at the Chateau. Pandy admitted that she didn’t remember kissing him, but would never forget how he’d ordered and eaten three breakfasts from room service. “I had the munchies,” he said, pulling her chair closer.
He was even better-looking than she remembered.
Thanks to his success, Doug had mastered a star’s ability to ingest the light in the room and reflect it outward, creating an irresistible magnetism. And yet he still maintained a semblance of what he must have been before he became an actor: the easygoing, beloved star quarterback of the high school football team, who assumed that life, having gone his way so far, would most likely continue on this track. Pandy wondered if his relaxed self-confidence came from knowing that he never had to work at attracting the opposite sex; never had to worry about being accepted or liked the way regular people did. His spectacular good looks granted him freedom from the concerns that most people deemed shallow but nevertheless had to deal with on a daily basis.
They had an immediate and easy intimacy that Pandy suspected he had with any woman on whom he focused his attentions. Nevertheless, that night, fate conspired against reason when a terrific clap of thunder followed by torrential rains trapped them inside the club. Joules locked the doors, turned up the music, and out came the pot and cocaine. At some point in the next twenty-four hours, Doug went home with her. Despite his condition, he made love in a passionate and expert fashion that was almost too good to be true. Pandy suspected that his performance was just that—a performance—and one he probably couldn’t maintain.
But he did maintain it, for the next ten days, anyway. Ten days in which they blissfully hung out in Pandy’s brand-new loft on Mercer Street, bought with her
Monica
earnings. It was mostly devoid of furniture, but that didn’t matter. They drank, had all kinds of sex, ordered takeout, watched bad movies, and had more sex.
Conversation, Pandy had to admit, was minimal. Which was why she kept reminding herself that it was nothing more than a fling. But once again, as had happened so many times before, her entreaties to herself not to get too emotionally involved were useless against the power of her romantic fantasies. And so, unable to say no to what looked, smelled, and actually felt like love according to all those fairy tales, she allowed herself to fall in love with him—just a little bit, she cautioned herself, the same way most women promised themselves to have only one bite of chocolate.
But Pandy was never good with the one-bite theory, and before she knew it, she was sliding into that delicious time warp where e
ver
ything is heightened, and everything the beloved says is brilliant, important, and meaningful.
Just like chocolate.
Or worse
, she thought, recalling SondraBeth’s old boyfriend,
like heroin
.
Then all of a sudden the ten days were gone, and Doug was scheduled to fly to Yugoslavia, where he would be shooting an action-adventure film. When he finally checked his schedule, he realized that he was already a day late.
There wasn’t much that could be done about that, so Doug figured if he was going to be one day late, he might as well make it two or three.
This theory didn’t technically make sense, but because Pandy wanted Doug to stay another night, she extolled the wisdom of his thinking.
With Doug’s departure looming, they decided they should try to see SondraBeth Schnowzer before he left town.
Since the success of the first Monica movie, SondraBeth had become less and less available. There were times when she had to take a seven a.m. flight to LA, do a round of talk shows, and then take the red-eye back to New York, where she was driven straight to the set for another ten hours of shooting.
Due to her hectic schedule, SondraBeth hadn’t been able to meet up with Pandy and Doug. But according to the location information that Pandy was sent every day, SondraBeth was back in the city and shooting
Monica
.
They decided to surprise her on the set.
The company was in Central Park, next to the sailboat pond. Half a dozen trailers were parked on a side street; inside the park were more trailers, the ubiquitous thick cables anchored to the ground with blue tape. A few dozen Monica fans were lurking, seeking autographs, some with their signature pink plastic champagne glasses strapped to their heads in honor of Monica.
Doug took her hand and squeezed it. “Just think, babe, all this is because of you. Because of something you
wrote
.” Pandy squeezed his hand back. One of the things she’d learned about Doug was that he was in awe of her ability to write; he was genuinely impressed by a person who could conjure up stories from out of nowhere. It was nice to be with a man who at least had a passing familiarity with what she did.
She brushed off the compliment. “It takes a lot of people, really. I could never do what they do.”
“They wouldn’t
be
here if it wasn’t for you,” he insisted.
They discovered SondraBeth in “video village,” located under a large black awning shielding a nest of directors’ chairs and television monitors. She was seated in the least accessible chair at the end of the third row, staring perplexedly at a small pamphlet of “sides”—her scenes and dialogue for the day. Pandy squeezed past assorted producers and crew to get to her. “Hi!” she exclaimed.
“Ohmigod.
Hi!
” SondraBeth squealed. As soon as she saw Pandy, her demeanor changed; she became animated and gabby. Pandy jokingly called her “Talky Monica,” thanks to her propensity to talk, talk, talk, going on and on about anything that was new and hot, like she was at a never-ending cocktail party. Pandy suspected she was modeling her behavior on Pandy herself, who was known about town as a real gadfly.
“Oh, Peege, I miss you,” SondraBeth said, pulling her close for an embrace. Then, catching Doug’s eye over the top of Pandy’s head, she flung open her arms, and in a moment of Monica silliness, rushed Doug and jumped into his arms.
“Doug!” she screamed.
“Hey there.” Doug laughed.
“Ohmigod. You guys look so cute together,” SondraBeth said, bouncing out of his arms and smiling at the two of them. “I hope Peege is taking good care of you.”
“Peege?” Doug cocked his head in confusion.
“Never mind,” SondraBeth went on gaily. She slung her arm around Pandy’s shoulder. “Peege rules this town. We both do. What do we say when things get bad?” She looked to Pandy. In unison, they pumped their arms and shouted, “PandaBeth!” Followed by the requisite bout of raucous laughter.
The script girl looked over, glared, and shushed them.
“Oops.” SondraBeth put her finger to her lips. Lowering her voice, she said, “We’ve been so bad, the head of the studio, Peter Pepper, actually called me and told me to tone it down.”
Doug crossed his arms and nodded. “That’s impressive.”
“Monica?” A woman holding powder and a makeup brush was suddenly in SondraBeth’s face. “We’re shooting in five.”
SondraBeth obediently lifted her head to allow the woman to powder her face; when the woman held up a lipstick, she stretched open her mouth. And then, like the animals she’d grown up with, she was led away.
Pandy and Doug settled into two directors’ chairs and leaned forward to watch SondraBeth on the monitor.
The director shouted, “Action,” and then, after several seconds in which SondraBeth didn’t appear, shouted, “Cut.”
SondraBeth came storming back to video village, looked at Pandy and Doug snuggling next to each other, and with a grim expression, reached over to her chair and grabbed her sides.
“What’s wrong?” Pandy asked, jumping up from her seat.
“It’s this stupid line.” SondraBeth thrust the pamphlet at Pandy and pointed to the offending sentence. “It just isn’t something Monica would say. Would
you
ever say that?”
The line was funny, and was indeed the kind of thing Pandy might have said. But it was SondraBeth who had to speak the line, so she agreed. “You’re right. It does sound awkward.”
SondraBeth frowned. “And out of character.”
“What are you going to do?” Pandy asked, as if the question were of dire importance.
“What
can
I do?” SondraBeth sighed dramatically, expressing a depth of sorrow that seemed better suited to the death of a child than a silly line in a movie comedy. “The director hates me,” she hissed.
“No one could hate you,” Pandy insisted, but SondraBeth shook her head. In a loud whisper, she informed Pandy that she’d worked with this director before and had had a “bad” experience; Pandy didn’t press her for the particulars. “He refuses to listen to me,” she added woefully. “But maybe you could talk to him?”
“Me?” Pandy said. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Of course you do. You’re a writer; knowing what to say is your job. And you’re the author. He
has
to listen to you.”
Pandy knew this wasn’t true. As soon as the actual production had begun on the first Monica movie, the producers had made it clear they were no longer interested in Pandy’s opinions. Pandy had greeted this fact with relief—there were too many personalities and nasty little high school–type conflicts on the set to make being involved appealing. But SondraBeth was staring at her with those sorrowful green eyes, and once again, Pandy found herself wanting to shield her from anything even mildly uncomfortable. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said fiercely.
She found the director talking about lighting with the first AD. It felt like a reasonable moment to bring up SondraBeth’s concerns, but the director merely laughed.
“She sent you to do her bidding?”
“Of course not,” Pandy said, as if the possibility were unthinkable.
The director wasn’t buying it. “The line isn’t going to change, and she knows it.” He looked at Pandy kindly and smiled. “You haven’t had much experience with actors, have you?”
“I’ve had my share.”
“Then you know they’re like six-year-olds,” the director proclaimed matter-of-factly. “They always want to change their lines, and you have to tell them no. Give in, and before you know it, they want to change
every
line. And then the whole day is ruined.
“And, Pandy?” the director added. “Don’t let her manipulate you. The moment she thinks she has the upper hand, she’ll lose all respect for you.”
Pandy gave him a curt nod and turned away, angered again on SondraBeth’s behalf. SondraBeth wasn’t a
child
, and neither was she.
She returned to find SondraBeth and Doug Stone in a surprisi
ngly
intimate tête-à-tête. Like a curtain, SondraBeth’s hair had fallen across the side of her face, separating her and Doug from the rest of the crowd. Doug was nodding, as if SondraBeth had just imparted a fascinating piece of information. Pandy paused, trying to assess the significance of their conversation. And then came a jealous, irrational thought:
SondraBeth is trying to steal Doug!
In the next second, they broke apart and SondraBeth beckoned to Pandy eagerly. “What did he say?”
Pandy made a disgusted face. “The director? You were right. He
is
an asshole. He said all actors were like six-year-olds.”
SondraBeth blanched. Her demeanor suddenly changed and she became frosty. “Why did you even tell me that?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—” Pandy broke off as Doug stepped in.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” he said. He and SondraBeth locked eyes and held each other’s stare for several seconds; long enough for Pandy to wonder if they were engaging in some kind of
Star Trek
mind meld.
Pandy suddenly felt like she no longer existed.
SondraBeth blinked and once again, her mood inexplicably shifted. “Of course you didn’t mean it, Peege,” she said, her voice full of understanding. “How could you? I mean, how could you possibly know what it’s like to be an actor?”
“She can’t,” Doug said fondly, reaching for Pandy’s hand. “That’s what’s so great about her.”
Pandy glanced up at Doug gratefully while SondraBeth looked on, a strange half smile frozen on her face.
“SondraBeth? They’re ready for you.” A PA appeared to lead SondraBeth away again.
“I love you. I’ll call you,” SondraBeth mouthed, raising her outstretched thumb to her ear.
Pandy blew a goodbye kiss, then fell back against Doug. “I didn’t mean to make her upset. I swear.”
“Forget about it,” Doug said. “She’s an actress. All actresses are unpredictable.”
They were interrupted by one of the producers, who came over to say hello.
“You must be so thrilled about
Monica
. And the mayor,” she gushed to Pandy.