‘I thought it was brilliant,’ said Alex.‘I loved the homage to French New Wave in the scene at the gas station.’
Jennifer glanced over towards her husband, who was locked in earnest conversation. ‘Crock of pretentious shit if you ask me,’ she muttered, and Alex had to cover his mouth to stop himself from coughing his blueberry tart across the table.
‘I’ll be honest, Jennifer.’ He laughed. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to say that.’
‘I know. The soignée Hollywood wife. Come on. I used to be a journalist. I’m a New Yorker. If I think Firefly was just an exercise in artistic masturbation, then I’m going to say so.’
‘You’d love it in my home town,’ said Alex.‘Everyone says exactly what they mean up there. That’s why there are so many fights outside the chippy.’
‘That’s what drives me nuts about the West Coast, Al,’ said Jennifer, pouring him more wine as the dessert was cleared away. ‘You never say what you think out here, you say what you think you should say. It’s one of the reasons I prefer writing books to screenplays. I call the shots. Writing a movie, you’ve got fifteen different people telling you what to do, all trying to outmanoeuvre the other guy. You’re a pawn, not an author.’
She saw Alex glancing towards the door Melissa had left through.
‘You know, LA is full of very smart people who think they have to play stupid,’ she said quietly.
‘Oh, Melissa’s not stupid.’
‘I gathered that the second I saw her. I take it she’s after the part of Danielle and not Nancy?’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘I’ve seen every trick in the book. People will do anything to get the part.’
‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better check where she’s got to,’ he said, pushing his chair back.
He walked out towards the pool, and for a moment he couldn’t see Melissa anywhere. Then he spotted her, hidden away in a corner, sitting on a teak sunlounger, cosied right up next to Justin. Her tea-dress, that had looked so decorous when they had left the house, had risen several inches up her thigh, which was now covered with Justin Coe’s hand.
As they drove back towards Mulholland, snaking their way up through the hills, Melissa was beaming, her cheeks flushed.
‘Great that you were talking to Jennifer back there,’ she said. ‘Good strategy to get in with the wife.’
‘She was actually the only human in the room,’ he said.
‘What’s got into you?’ She frowned.
Alex glanced at her, then looked back towards the road, fuming.
‘What?’ she said.
‘I don’t know why you bothered with this prom-virgin charade tonight if all along you planned on behaving like a . . . like you did back there.’
‘What are you talking about?’ she said defensively.
‘What am I talking about? From the minute we got there to the minute we left, you were flirting with Justin like a bitch on heat.’
‘We were talking about the movie,’ she said.
‘Oh yes? And did he need to put his hand up your skirt while you chatted?’
‘I wasn’t flirting,’ protested Melissa. ‘I was demonstrating chemistry. ’
‘Of course,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘How naïve of me.’
‘Look, Christopher is one of the most powerful directors in the world, but Justin will still have the final say-so on his co-star.’
‘And that makes it OK, does it?’ snapped Alex. ‘Think about how it feels for me, Melissa. Married to “the sexiest woman in the world”. I know you have to network and connect with future co-stars, but you’re married and there’s a line you don’t cross.’
‘And do you think it’s easy for me? You out on tour, surrounded by screaming girls, never home?’