Hollywood Punch (4 page)

“Nope,” she says, and goes back to her fries. “But, one good thing to come out of this is the fact that Trip knows everything about you going to his wedding. It's all out in the open, so you don't have to hide any secrets anymore.”

The secret. I'd nearly forgotten about that. You'd think that once your ex is making a movie about your life, it can't get worse.

But, you'd be wrong.

“Right,” I say, grabbing at a stray napkin that's on the table. I tear it into two pieces and then into four. Vanessa regards me.

“Oh, no,” she says.

“What?” I ask, tearing the napkin in my hand into eight pieces.

“So, he doesn't know?” she asks and I keep my eyes firmly planted on the floor. “You haven't told him that you actually brought a fake date to his wedding?”

“About that…”

“That Douglas broke up with you on the eve of his wedding, so you brought Jack instead and made him wear a kilt and speak with a Scottish accent?”

“I was there,” I say, “you don't have to remind me what happened.”

“But Trip doesn't know any of that?” she asks, staring at me with such intensity that I can feel her eyes burning into my head.

“No idea,” I say, without bringing my eyes up to meet Vanessa's.

“Then what the hell is the movie about?”

“A girl who goes to her ex-boyfriend's wedding,” I say, taking a sip of my iced tea. “Apparently, that's interesting enough in of itself to turn into a movie. You don't even
need
the fake kilt part.”

“Brooke,” she says, employing the same tone she'd use in speaking to a small child.

“Well, I don't see why I should have to say anything,” I say, scooping more bacon onto my fork and dipping it into the dressing. Then I take another bite and pile bacon onto blue cheese and dip
that
into the dressing.

“I don't see why you wouldn't tell Trip,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. Um, is she kidding me?!

“You don't see why I wouldn't?” I cry out, my voice an octave higher than I intend it to be. “Well, for starters, it makes me look like a huge loser—”

“But you have Jack now,” Vanessa says, cutting me off. “Nothing matters anymore now that you have Jack. He's what's important. Not some silly semblance of your pride that you're trying to protect.”

And she's right. When I think about Jack and how lucky I am to have finally found love, I can't help but feel silly that I'm still obsessing over the fact that my ex got married before me. The first thing that I'm going to do tomorrow is to call Trip and tell him everything. That Douglas broke up with me right before his wedding, so I brought Jack instead. And that, in order
to keep my dignity ever so slightly intact, I made Jack pretend to be Douglas, which meant that he had to don a kilt and a fake Scottish accent and I had to wear a fake engagement ring, but that none of that matters anymore since Jack and I are together for real and it's wonderful and it's everything I always wanted but never realized was right in front of me because I was too busy thinking that all the wrong things were important. But, now I've got my head screwed on straight, and I'm engaged to an amazing guy. I will call Trip immediately and tell him all of these things.

But first, I'm going to steal some of Vanessa's French fries and order myself a hamburger.

Chapter Four

“Well, this is unexpected,” I say, as Trip saunters into my office. I think, but don't say:
and unwelcome.
First, I silently curse Trip for showing up unannounced. Then, I silently curse my assistant, for not announcing that he'd arrived.

You see, today's the day I'm supposed to be coming clean to Trip about the fact that I brought a fake date to his wedding—the wedding that he's making a major motion picture about—but he's shown up unexpectedly and I'm not really mentally prepared to tell him the truth just yet.

Maybe I should ask him to come back on a day where I've had time to go to the spa to get a massage, manicure and pedicure? Maybe even a facial. Or even a scrub. Yes, I'm sure a scrub would do the trick. Surely then I'd be more relaxed and more prepared to admit the fact that I was too embarrassed to tell him that Douglas broke up with me on the eve of his wedding, so I made Jack dress up as a Scotsman and pretend to be Douglas? But I ask you: is there ever a good time to tell your ex-boyfriend that your man broke up with you on the eve of his wedding, so you made your best friend dress up as him and come with you to the wedding?

Wine. I was going to need some wine before I do this.

“Is now a good time?” Trip asks, settling into one of my leather visitor chairs, his stance indicating that he didn't actually care whether or not it was, in fact, a good time for me. I slip off my real engagement ring and reach into my pocketbook to try to find the fake ring I wore to Trip's wedding. “I thought we could bat around some ideas for the screenplay.”

The fake ring is nowhere to be found. I decide to forgo wearing any ring at all. After all, no ring would be better than wearing a different ring he's seen before, right? Although wouldn't it be great if you could have more than one engagement ring and then just wear whichever one matched your mood? Maybe I could get that started as a trend…. Focus, Brooke!

“You mean the screenplay you're writing about my life,” I say, looking him dead in the eyes.

“I mean the screenplay about my wedding and how I invited my ex-girlfriend,” he says, returning my gaze. “See, Brooke, it's really my story to tell.”

“Isn't Ava the star of the movie, not Leo?”

“Well, yes,” he says, picking at an imaginary piece of lint on his jacket.

“So, then, it's really her story to tell,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “It's the ex-girlfriend's story.” I couldn't help but smile at my little victory. I always
was
a better litigator than Trip.

“Look, Brooke. I just need something more to really make the story solid,” Trip says. “So, help me out, would you? It'll be just like in law school when we used to collaborate all the time together.”

What he means to say is:
it'll be just like law school, where we were dating, so I made you do all the work for me.
Only his charm has worn off now, and the only thing I'll be helping him to do is to leave my office.

“Where's your engagement ring?” he asks, doing a half-stand out of his chair to get a closer look at my hand. Which has the effect of making me immediately cover my left hand with the right.

“Oh,” I say. “That. Yes, well. It's at the cleaners. I mean, the ring cleaners. You know, the jewelers. You know what I meant. Since when are you so interested in jewelry?”

Must get the ex-boyfriend out of my office, stat!

“So, were there any other complications in being an unmarried girl going to your ex-boyfriend's wedding? Anything else you haven't told me?”

“No,” I say, with a clipped tone, turning to my computer. I begin to check my email, hoping that he'll think that I'm too busy to talk to him and just leave.

An email pops up on my screen:

From:
           
“Vanessa Taylor” <
[email protected]
>

To:
                
“Brooke Miller” <
[email protected]
>

Subject:
       
Do it!

Did you fess up to Trip yet???

Vanessa Taylor

Gilson, Hecht and Trattner

425 Park Avenue

11
^th
Floor

New York, New York 10022

*****CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE*****

The information contained in this e-mail message is confidential and is intended only for the use of the individual or entity named above. If you are not the intended recipient, we would request you delete this communication without reading it or any attachment, not forward or otherwise distribute it, and kindly advise Gilson, Hecht & Trattner by return email to the sender or a telephone call to 1 (800) GILSON. Thank you in advance.

That girl's timing is uncanny. I look over to Trip, sitting on my visitor's chair like a sad little puppy, his pad out, ready to jot down any words of wisdom I may spew out.

“I just feel like I'm missing something here,” Trip says, tapping his pen against the side of the pad. “What the script really needs is something to bring it all together. It needs more comedy. More of a love story.”

“How's this,” I say, throwing him a bone. “I
did
lose my luggage at LAX when we flew in for your wedding. I didn't have a dress to wear, so we had to spend the whole day shopping, trying to find a replacement. Use that.”

“Right on, right on,” Trip says. Even though he's originally from Connecticut, he certainly has adapted to being a left-coaster. If he says ‘bitchin' I'm kicking him out of my office.

“Okay, so great,” I say, standing up. “If I think of anything else, I'll call you!”

Trip stays planted in his seat.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I don't mean to be bugging you. It's just that there is so much pressure on me to make this thing great. It just needs a little oomph. Something to make it stand out from all of those other romantic comedies out there. This means a lot to me. And to Ava.”

And just like that, I begin to soften. I was so busy trying to one-up Trip that I forgot that there are things that I actually like about him. His determination. His stick-to-it-ness. For a moment, I remember how devoted he could be to something he believed in. Which is probably what makes him such a great agent. Seeing him work so hard at something really makes me feel like I want to help.

I try to formulate the words—how exactly do you tell your ex that you brought a fake date to his wedding?—and just as I am about to tell him the truth, the thing that will make his movie truly great, he says:

“That's it. I just figured it out.”

“What?” I ask, curious to hear what fabulous plot point he's come up with. See, Trip was right—collaborating
can
be fun!

“Why you're not wearing your ring,” he says. “That's it. I've figured it out.”