“What are you working on, Marissa?” Schaeffer was on it. Seth just listened and scribbled down the answers.
“Well, I just did four days on the new Noko Matsui film, that was a total blast.”
“Oh yeah? You like working with Noko?”
“Oh my God, he’s a genius, he’s such a genius.”
“What’s your favorite movie that he’s made?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“Not unless you don’t know the answer.”
“You’re awful,” she grinned.
“I’ll pick one for you. You get to do any action sequences?”
“No, I just got shot.”
“You get to fall off a roof or anything?”
“I did! How did you know?”
How did he know? Seth was convinced that Schaeffer just sat around his apartment all day, surfing the internet and storing every meaningless fact he could find in that fucking big brain of his. One time over drinks Schaeffer admitted he had a photographic memory, which may have been a lie, except for the fact that Schaeffer wasn’t exactly proud of it. He was drunk and morose, and confessing that he had gotten kicked out of MIT for some ridiculous cheating scandal, hacking computers or selling prewritten papers to terrified freshmen, something totally needless and stupid. And now here he was, chatting up starlets and writing dazzling paragraphs about who these pretty girls were dating, or what talk show they were going to be seen on next. Seth didn’t get it. But he liked the guy. Compared to all the vapid know-nothings who regularly showed up on this beat, fat Schaeffer had the air of a tragic desperado about him.
In fact, at that very moment Schaeffer was waving wildly at the next starlet down the line. He was flushed with delight, or that might actually just have been the heat. The whole thing was dreary as hell. Seth started digging through his shoulder bag, looking for the ultra-handy celeb cheat sheet that Arwen always stuffed in there, to let him know who and what to expect at these things. He couldn’t find it. “Shit. I’m taking off,” he said. “Did I really miss everybody? ’Cause if it’s just B-list from here on in, I got two other parties I have to cover before midnight.”
“You telling me you wouldn’t want to tap that?” Schaeffer muttered, by way of reply. Seth glanced up, finally, so that he might make an informed answer to the everlasting male question. The answer leaped rather quickly to mind.
I already did.
Alison Moore, in a skintight lavender mini dress, clocked his presence. Then she leaned over and kissed Schaeffer on the cheek.
“Hey, Schaeffer, you look awesome. Hi, Seth. I heard you were covering these things for the Times, but I’ve never seen you at any of them.”
“He’s always late and often lazy,” Schaeffer informed her. “You look fabulous.”
She did look fabulous. Her figure was flawless in that dress, and the color was so fragile and pale it took you a moment to register that it was there at all. Cascading seed pearl earrings were her only accessories; she didn’t carry a clutch. Those great long bangs were still there, the long legs too. Her eyes were even greener in person, but maybe that was the dress. She looked free, spare, and fearless, like someone who might split and duck into your Chevy, take a road trip to Montauk, and make out in the backseat all night.
“What are you up to, Alison?” Schaeffer asked her.
“Show’s on hiatus, so I’m out and about,” she shrugged.
“You think you’ll get an Emmy nod this year?”
“Absolutely. Best sex on camera, they’re giving me a special award.” Schaeffer was a puddle of adoration.
“What show is this?” Seth asked.
She shot him a glance which scorched his eyeballs. “No, seriously, I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he protested. “I just don’t watch much television. I’m out most nights.”
“Yes, I see that, you clearly have much more serious things to do with your time.” That got tossed off with a throaty laugh. She had gotten somewhat better at hiding it—the laugh was fantastic—but she was still trigger happy. He remembered that temper, how easy it was to wound her. He also remembered how great she was in the sack.
“It’s the best show on television,” Schaeffer gushed.
“Thanks, Schaeffer.”
“I was so relieved when you got your pickup for next season.”
“Yeah, we were on the bubble a little bit this spring.”
“Until you and Rob got back together. You are holding that whole show together.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” she warned him.