Star ?”
“No, no, a hundred times, no!” He shuddered. “Not since that day when Nicole came in. I’d left People sitting out where everyone could see it, and the cover story was all about . . . ” He shuddered again, more dramatically this time.
“Tom Cruise?” I guessed.
“Other Nicole.” He took a step back and studied me.
Rodrigo’s cell phone rang. “Hey, honey, what’s up?” Immediately, he was a different person.
“. . . I don’t know—a while. We’re at Stefano’s. Yeah—the place in Hancock Park, the little house. Jay thought the Beverly Hills salon was too risky.”
“It’s not a little house, it’s a bungalow,” Stefano said to no one in particular, fussing around with his supplies. “And it’s not a salon, it’s a private studio.”
“It’ll be a few hours,” Rodrigo said into the phone, leaning forward, eyes on the ground. “But maybe we can do a late lunch? Or an early dinner . . . I don’t know—Jay told me to stay . . . I just don’t want him to. . . I know you do, but—Well, did you try calling Josh? What did he say? . . . God!” He sounded really annoyed. “You paid him extra to be on call! Is Jay there? Maybe he can do it.”
Rodrigo squeezed his eyes shut. Finally, he said, “Baby, baby . . . it’s okay! Of course I will! Of course!”
He slipped his phone into his pocket, tapped some keys on his laptop, closed it up and slid it into its black case.
“I need to pop over to Haley’s for a little while,” he said without looking at us.
“Troubles?” Stefano chirped.
“Nothing major. Just—that stupid AV system. She’s trying to watch television, and she can get the picture but there’s music coming from the speakers. And Josh is supposed to be on call twenty-four/seven, but he’s in Hawaii with his girlfriend.”
Stefano tsk-tsked . “You’d think he’d arrange for a backup.”
“He did , but the other guy doesn’t have clearance , and Josh should’ve thought of that.”
Stefano and I didn’t say anything until Rodrigo’s little green car pulled out of the lot.
“The AV guy needed clearance?” I said.
Stefano giggled. “Honestly! You’d think Roddy’s working for the CIA.”
“Maybe he’s writing a movie about spies,” I suggested.
“Oh, no!” Stefano settled onto Rodrigo’s vacated couch like a Persian cat. “Roddy only writes coming-out stories. One after another after another, like he’s the first gay man in the universe. If he’d just get a boyfriend, it wouldn’t be so bad. Instead, his life revolves around Crazy Haley.”
I remembered the paper I signed. “Are we allowed to talk about this?”
“Of course! We both have clearance , remember? We just can’t go public.” He crossed his legs and put his clasped hands on his knees. “We don’t have long. What do you want to know?”
My mouth dropped open. Where to begin? “Everything!” He tapped his cheek. “Okay—the recap. You probably know most of this from the Internet.”
“I don’t get the Internet.”
I expected the usual expressions of horror. Instead, he said, “I’ve never really understood how to work it, myself. Okay. Let’s start at the very beginning . . .” He sang to the tune from The Sound of Music , and then he spoke quickly.
“Haley Rush came from one of those square-shaped mountain states. Colorado or Wyoming or . . .”
“Montana,” I supplied.
“Montana! Right!” He pointed at me like a game show host. “The official version of how Montana Haley became Hollywood Haley is that she was in some talent show or state fair—or maybe a talent show in a state fair—and some scouts saw her and asked her to come to California.”
“And the unofficial version?” I asked.
Stefano tapped his shiny cheek. “It all started with Haley’s mother. She claims she was a beauty queen once, but I’ve seen pictures, and—I don’t think so. Anyhoo, she married young—you can get hitched at, like, twelve in those states. Hubby
“No, no, a hundred times, no!” He shuddered. “Not since that day when Nicole came in. I’d left People sitting out where everyone could see it, and the cover story was all about . . . ” He shuddered again, more dramatically this time.
“Tom Cruise?” I guessed.
“Other Nicole.” He took a step back and studied me.
Rodrigo’s cell phone rang. “Hey, honey, what’s up?” Immediately, he was a different person.
“. . . I don’t know—a while. We’re at Stefano’s. Yeah—the place in Hancock Park, the little house. Jay thought the Beverly Hills salon was too risky.”
“It’s not a little house, it’s a bungalow,” Stefano said to no one in particular, fussing around with his supplies. “And it’s not a salon, it’s a private studio.”
“It’ll be a few hours,” Rodrigo said into the phone, leaning forward, eyes on the ground. “But maybe we can do a late lunch? Or an early dinner . . . I don’t know—Jay told me to stay . . . I just don’t want him to. . . I know you do, but—Well, did you try calling Josh? What did he say? . . . God!” He sounded really annoyed. “You paid him extra to be on call! Is Jay there? Maybe he can do it.”
Rodrigo squeezed his eyes shut. Finally, he said, “Baby, baby . . . it’s okay! Of course I will! Of course!”
He slipped his phone into his pocket, tapped some keys on his laptop, closed it up and slid it into its black case.
“I need to pop over to Haley’s for a little while,” he said without looking at us.
“Troubles?” Stefano chirped.
“Nothing major. Just—that stupid AV system. She’s trying to watch television, and she can get the picture but there’s music coming from the speakers. And Josh is supposed to be on call twenty-four/seven, but he’s in Hawaii with his girlfriend.”
Stefano tsk-tsked . “You’d think he’d arrange for a backup.”
“He did , but the other guy doesn’t have clearance , and Josh should’ve thought of that.”
Stefano and I didn’t say anything until Rodrigo’s little green car pulled out of the lot.
“The AV guy needed clearance?” I said.
Stefano giggled. “Honestly! You’d think Roddy’s working for the CIA.”
“Maybe he’s writing a movie about spies,” I suggested.
“Oh, no!” Stefano settled onto Rodrigo’s vacated couch like a Persian cat. “Roddy only writes coming-out stories. One after another after another, like he’s the first gay man in the universe. If he’d just get a boyfriend, it wouldn’t be so bad. Instead, his life revolves around Crazy Haley.”
I remembered the paper I signed. “Are we allowed to talk about this?”
“Of course! We both have clearance , remember? We just can’t go public.” He crossed his legs and put his clasped hands on his knees. “We don’t have long. What do you want to know?”
My mouth dropped open. Where to begin? “Everything!” He tapped his cheek. “Okay—the recap. You probably know most of this from the Internet.”
“I don’t get the Internet.”
I expected the usual expressions of horror. Instead, he said, “I’ve never really understood how to work it, myself. Okay. Let’s start at the very beginning . . .” He sang to the tune from The Sound of Music , and then he spoke quickly.
“Haley Rush came from one of those square-shaped mountain states. Colorado or Wyoming or . . .”
“Montana,” I supplied.
“Montana! Right!” He pointed at me like a game show host. “The official version of how Montana Haley became Hollywood Haley is that she was in some talent show or state fair—or maybe a talent show in a state fair—and some scouts saw her and asked her to come to California.”
“And the unofficial version?” I asked.
Stefano tapped his shiny cheek. “It all started with Haley’s mother. She claims she was a beauty queen once, but I’ve seen pictures, and—I don’t think so. Anyhoo, she married young—you can get hitched at, like, twelve in those states. Hubby
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