The Apartment (21 page)

Her long blond hair had to be cut short and dyed brown. They had contact lenses to change her eyes from green to blue. They wanted her in flat shoes and loose clothes, nothing tight and sexy like her sister, which she didn't wear anyway, and they didn't want her to appear as tall as Valentina, who always wore heels. They thought the hair color and length and blue eyes instead of green would do it. There wasn't much else they could do. They wanted her to be nondescript instead of striking like her sister, but Sasha was still a pretty woman. And they were debating brown contact lenses instead of blue.

Sasha cried when they cut her hair, and dyed it brown. They cut it short in a boyish cut, which actually suited her, but Alex looked upset. He loved her hair.

“It'll grow back,” she told him, and then learned how to put the contacts in. They settled on the blue ones, and they were all shocked at the difference it made. She really did appear like a different person, and nothing like Valentina now, or herself. When Abby and Morgan came in for breakfast, they were amazed, and she told them what had happened the night before. Lieutenant O'Rourke left a little while later with his crew. Two plainclothes officers wearing jeans and T-shirts with baseball jackets to conceal their guns stayed behind. And Sasha felt like her life had been turned upside down. The lieutenant told her she couldn't visit her sister—they didn't want anyone to see them together. And Valentina would be removed from the hospital before noon, to an undisclosed location, until they found the man who had shot Jean-Pierre.

The three women and Alex were sitting at the kitchen table discussing it, and the two policemen had retreated to a discreet corner of the room and were playing with the dog. It had been a hell of a night. And Sasha had to see the head of the residency program to explain it to him before she went back on duty that night.

Morgan went to work at the restaurant then, and Alex went out for a while to get some air and pick some clothes up at his apartment. He was going to stay at the loft with Sasha until the killer had been found. He was back later that afternoon and went for a walk with the dog, while Sasha slept and Abby worked at the computer.

And at five o'clock, Claire came home from San Francisco and was confused. There were two men she didn't know hanging out in the kitchen. Sasha looked like someone she'd never seen before, and there was a dog the size of a horse snoring on the couch.

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked Alex, who looked at her ruefully.

“Good question. Valentina turned our life to shit last night, and nearly got herself killed.” Sasha explained it to her, and Claire was stunned. It was the worst story she'd ever heard. And on a lighter note, she couldn't believe the size of the dog Abby had brought home, but she admitted that he seemed sweet. And he held out a paw to her too, and then licked her hand with a tongue the size of a ham. She sat down on the couch after a while and laughed.

“Well, at least it's not boring around here,” she said, and Alex laughed.

“No one would ever accuse this place of that.” They were allowed no contact with Valentina, and as far as he was concerned, that was a relief. Sasha had told her they were engaged, and Claire congratulated them both. And shortly after, Valentina called from the hospital with a tearful goodbye.

At seven o'clock that night, Sasha went to meet with the head of the residency program, who wasn't happy about the situation, but agreed to let her work since she was heavily disguised, and she would be accompanied at all times by armed undercover policemen. But he warned her that he wanted no disruption for the patients or staff, and Sasha promised him there wouldn't be. All she wanted was to do her job.

And at eight o'clock, she met the others at Max's restaurant, and they had a relaxed dinner, with the two policemen at a nearby table. Claire talked about the shoe business she was starting with her mother, and they were all excited for her. Sasha and Alex had traded their shifts that night, and it was a relief to be together and act like normal people, even though Sasha didn't look like herself, but she got to show off her ring. They all agreed it had been a crazy month, which included an engagement, a murder, and a dog. Not to mention Claire's broken heart, getting fired, and the business she was starting with her mother.

“And what are we all doing for New Year's Eve?” Oliver asked when he and Greg showed up for dessert, and everyone looked blank.

“We're working,” Alex and Sasha said in unison. Morgan always helped Max at the restaurant, which left Claire and Abby free, without dates. Greg suggested the four of them go to Times Square to watch the ball drop and then go to Max's restaurant for supper with Max and Morgan when things calmed down.

“Sounds like a plan,” Oliver said, smiling at the two women.

“Let's hope it's the start of a great year,” Max added, and they all raised a glass to that, and then toasted the newly engaged couple again.

Two days after Valentina was taken to an unknown location for her protection, Abby was peacefully writing at her desk, with Charlie asleep at her feet. Her cell phone rang. It was Josh Katz, the producer she had met at her parents' on Thanksgiving. She hadn't thought of him in a month, since she'd met him.

“I'm in New York for New Year's.” He said he had moved back to L.A. since he'd seen her, but was visiting friends in New York for the weekend. “I read what you sent me. It's strong.” She wasn't sure if that was bad or good, but she thanked him for reading it, and told him she'd been working on additional chapters of her novel that were even more cinematic. “That sounds interesting. Do you have time to get together?” he asked her, and she thought about it. She wanted to finish what she was writing that afternoon.

“Sure. When?”

“How about today? Now? I'm staying in Chelsea, and I could come over in half an hour. I'm sorry I didn't give you any notice. I wasn't sure I could get away. I had to meet with some postproduction people for the film I'm finishing right now.”

“That's okay. I'm just sitting here working. I can take a break.” She wasn't sure if the meeting was business or social, but she could make the time.

He was there half an hour later. He was taller than she remembered, and he was wearing a ski parka and a heavy sweater. He noticed Charlie immediately, and stroked him.

“Great dog.” He was the kind of dog men loved.

“He adopted me a few days ago. We're still getting acquainted.” She smiled at Josh, and offered him a glass of wine, and he accepted a cup of coffee instead. He didn't waste time getting to the point. He wasn't much for small talk, and was all about his work. And now hers.

“I'm here to make you an offer. I liked what you sent me. You write great stuff, a little dark, but I like the genre. I'm working on a movie now, and it's right up your alley. We have a script, but I don't like it. I need someone to take another crack at it. It's based on a book I bought years ago. I've never done anything with it, but I think it's a good time for it. It fits into the mood of the country at the moment. And the minute I read your work, I knew you were perfect for it. I want to hire you to write the script.” Her eyes grew wide at what he said.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He smiled at her. “I've got great instincts for matchmaking. You're perfect to do the script based on this book.” He told her the title, and she laughed.

“That was my Bible five years ago. I used to read it every night.”

“Then I was right.” He smiled.

“But it's not a little dark. It's very dark,” she corrected him.

“So is your work, but there are little touches of levity in it that I like. You know how to laugh at yourself, and it comes through.”

“So what would I have to do?”

“You have to come up with a script we can work with. I can show you how. And you told me yourself that you're getting more cinematic. We can work on it together when I finish postproduction on this one. I need you in L.A. for a year, starting in March.” Her face fell as he said it, and he saw it. “You can come back here in a year. You don't have to move back to L.A. forever. You can just live there for a year while we do the movie. Then you can do whatever you want, but you'd have an indie film to your credit, and you can call the shots on the next one, if the one we make together is a success. This film could give you a name people will want to hire.” He was a good salesman, and for a minute she wondered if her parents had put him up to it, but he was too independent for that. He was kind of a maverick, and she liked that about him. And he seemed like an honest man.

He told her how much he wanted to pay her, and it was more money than she'd ever hoped to make, especially at this stage of her career, with an unpublished novel.

“Why are you giving me this chance?”

“Because I think you're good, and you're fresh. You're not jaded by Hollywood, and you haven't sold out. There's a raw openness to what you write that I really like. Will you think about it?”

“What if I get stuck in Hollywood forever?”

“That would mean that what you're doing is a success. There are worse fates than that, my friend. And you can live wherever you want between films. I do. It's not a bad life. And I don't mind L.A. when I'm working. Everything you need is there.” She could hear Ivan's voice in her head screaming “sellout” as she listened to him. But was that so wrong? To make an indie movie with a guy who wanted to pay her real money for her work? And he seemed to genuinely respect what she wrote and want to keep her style intact.

“I'll think about it,” she told him, and he stood up. “How are your boys?” He smiled when she asked him.

“Thank you for remembering. They're great. We just spent the holidays together. They're a good age. I can take them anywhere, and they're fun. I wish I'd had more.”

“Maybe you will someday,” she said kindly. He certainly wasn't too old.

“Probably not the way I work. It drove my wife insane when we were married. She said I worked all the time, and she wasn't wrong. I'm a little mellower now, but not much. I like spending time with my boys, though. And the rest of the time I'm busy.”

“Me too.” She smiled at him. And now she was writing what she loved, not to please Ivan, but herself.

“Then come work on my movie. Make it our movie,” he said, sounding very convincing, and she laughed.

“I'll think about it and let you know.” The money alone was enticing, and she loved the book the movie would be based on. But she wasn't sure. She didn't want to leave New York, but his indie film would be perfect, just what she wanted. If it had been in New York, she would have said yes on the spot. She had shared her reservations with him.

“You can always come back here,” he reminded her again before he left. She sat for a long time afterward, thinking about it, and stroking the dog. He looked up at her with a questioning look, as though he knew something was going on.

“Do you want to move to L.A.?” she asked him, and he wagged his tail and laid his head down again, as though he was too tired to figure it out and was leaving it up to her. “Thanks a lot,” she said to him. “What do you mean, make up my own mind? If I move, you do too, so you'd better think about it. L.A. is hot and nasty.” But so was New York. But Josh was right, she could always come back, with an indie film under her belt. She was twenty-nine years old, and maybe it was time to take a real job and make some money, and not just talk about it and write for herself. It was a big decision for her, and could be the start of a real career.

The next day was New Year's Eve, and Greg and Oliver picked Claire and Abby up to walk over to Times Square. The crowd was massive when they arrived, and it was a festive atmosphere. When the countdown started, everyone screamed as the brightly lit ball came down, televised around the world. The four of them wished each other a happy New Year, and made their way to Max's restaurant, where he had saved them a table, and he and Morgan joined them at one
A.M.
It was a perfect way to spend the evening, with good friends.

They drank champagne and were all a little drunk when they left at two o'clock. And Abby found Charlie snoring in her bed when she got home. She gently pushed him aside, and climbed into bed next to him, and thought about the movie Josh had offered her the day before. And just before she fell asleep, she knew she had made up her mind. The champagne had helped. It was a terrific opportunity, and she couldn't pass it up. It was a chance to become financially independent and make a name for herself. What more could she ask? And it was time to grow up. What she'd done with Ivan had been amateur hour. She couldn't do that anymore. She had to take this project and see if she could make it in the real world. And an indie film based on a book she loved was a gentle way to start a serious career. She couldn't ask for anything better. And when she finished the movie in a year, she'd come back to New York. And she wasn't going “back” to anything. She was moving forward. And she didn't have to leave till March. She had two more months with her best friends, in the apartment. And then she'd go to L.A. for a year. Just a year. And she already sensed that she'd learn a lot from Josh. She promised herself before she fell asleep that if she still felt the same way in the morning, she'd call him.

Charlie nudged her at nine o'clock. He wanted to go out, and he didn't care how hung over she was. She walked him around the block and came back, and then she picked up her cell phone and called. Josh picked it up immediately and sounded as bad as she felt.

“Sorry to call you so early,” she said apologetically.

“No worries,” he said in a gruff morning voice, deepened by too many shots of tequila the night before. He was staying with a writer who drank a lot. And he sensed that what he was about to hear was important. He had known it the minute the phone rang, just as he had known it when he read the material she sent him. Something huge was about to happen, to both of them.

“I'll do it,” she said in a small voice. “I want to. I really want to. And I can always come back.”

“Yes, you can. I'm leaving tomorrow. Do you want to have dinner tonight? We can talk about it.”

“That would be fine. Do you want to come here? We're all having dinner around seven o'clock, with my roommates, at my apartment.”

“I'd like that. And Abby, just so you know it, you're a great writer. We're going to make a fantastic movie together.”

“I know. That's why I said yes.”

“See you later,” he said. He already knew the address since he'd been there to make her the offer. It was just the beginning. Great things were going to happen. And when he hung up, he lay on the bed smiling, knowing he had just made the best deal of his life.