“She’s casting Last Stop.”
Last Stop was Lars’s movie. An eighty-million-dollar epic about a bunch of heroic American black ops who go rogue and take down an evil drug cartel in Mexico. The twist? The secret leader of this merry band of reprobates was a woman. Lars had talked about this project incessantly with the lunatics he did business with, at the dinners he had been dragging her to. She had heard him describe it repeatedly as his dream project, although that seemed to be a term that all these people used a bit casually. Other terms being used were “tentpole” and “international blockbuster” and “mega hit.” The names that were being tossed about for the female lead included all the hottest stars in features. There was never even a whisper that Lars or his cohorts would even consider the possibility of casting an unknown. The idea seemed too ludicrous to even entertain. “Oh, for crying out loud, Ryan,” she said. “She’s being polite.”
“No one inquires about avails to be polite.”
“How do you know?”
“I think I know a little bit more about show business than you do. They’re concerned about your series, whether or not your dates would conflict.”
“They are not.”
“How do you know, Miss Thing? Who’s the agent, me or you?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Who’s the agent?”
“Ryan—it’s ridiculous to even talk about something that far-fetched anyway. Besides, I have a seven-year contract on a terrible television series and they aren’t going to let me out.”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time, doll,” he replied. “When are you seeing Lars next?”
“I’m in Cincinnati, Ryan,” she started.
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll check with my mom,” she said. “I think she wanted me to be here for some brunch thing she’s doing this weekend.”
“It would be great if he could see you before then,” Ryan informed her. “I’ll let you work it out.” The fact that there was no wheedling in his tone made it eminently clear how serious this might be.
But how serious could it be? Show business was all talk and money and kind of nothing else. She could fly herself out to Los Angeles and sit in any number of indistinguishable offices and talk to faceless men in suits for months on end, and it would amount to nothing. Or it would amount to something, for reasons which no one could begin to comprehend. Alison knew that she was going to end up sitting in those tragic offices eventually, was there really any reason to rush into it?
It was all so hard to explain. Megan stopped by with the twins to pick up a peach pie Rose had made for her and Phil, and Rose immediately launched into her version of events, reinterpreting the thumbnail sketch Alison had just finished narrating.
“Alison’s agent called, she’s being offered a big part in a big movie,” Rose began excitedly. She was in pre-dinner mode, which entailed a lot of straightening of the kitchen, so that when Dad arrived back from his day of adventures as a retired businessman the house was tidy. Her actions were both conscious and unconscious, the patterns of a lifetime. Megan barely noticed the fact that her mother barely noticed her as she steered those twins out of the kitchen and into the family room, which was still, after thirty years of offspring, littered with toys. Alison did her best to keep up with the swooping women, as well as the fierce and unremitting confidence of their dialogue.
“Oh my God! That’s amazing!” Megan started.
“I haven’t actually been offered it,” Alison cautioned.
“But they want her for it.”
“They didn’t actually—”
“He called here, to tell you that you had to go to Los Angeles—”
“They just want to talk to me.”
“Well, they want her,” Rose repeated. She was so determined that this was true, and so honestly excited that Alison didn’t have the heart to contradict her again. “The director asked for her himself, which has to mean something, doesn’t it?”
“Who is he, is he a big deal?” Megan’s question was cheerful, innocent, full of her own delight at all this. She had subscriptions to People magazine as well as Entertainment Weekly. Showbiz gossip was like a bag of M&M’s to her.
“He’s not a big deal. He’s kind of a big deal,” Alison admitted. Only a total art snob would pretend that Lars Guttfriend was not a big deal. “He directs action movies. You know.” Her head drew an utter blank trying to remember the action movies Lars had directed. They all sort of blurred together after a while, you had to admit that, even if you weren’t an art snob. “I don’t know him that well. We went out a couple times.”
“You’re dating a movie director? Oh my God, I have to tell Suzanne, she will just flip out.” She pulled out her cell and started to text feverishly. Suzanne was Megan’s best friend, they seemed to be joined at the hip by their iPhones.