The veteran actor was a producer on the movie and had made anappearance at the very end of the party, no doubt after attending all of the official events of opening night.
I shook my head. “Positive. Whatever that was, it happened way earlier in the evening.”
The party had gotten off on the wrong foot. Odetta Olson had complained about something or other—no vegan option in the food selection, maybe?—and Carmen had pulled me off front door duties to focus on party logistics. I’d spent the evening roaming the venue with eagle eyes, making sure glasses were always filled and the music was neither too loud nor too quiet, but I hadn’t witnessed any of Odetta Olson’s alleged bad behavior.
And now, after quietly contacting guests all morning, I couldn’t find anyone to confirm what the gossip sites were claiming.
“We need to do so much better than this,” Carmen said.
I felt like she’d slapped me but tried my hardest to not let it show. This wasn’t even about getting the promotion. It was my annoying need to please the people around me, lest they realize what an average bore I was.
“Obviously,” I agreed. “This party should have set the perfect tone for the movie. Total missed opportunity.”
“We need to pivot. A sharp fucking pivot.”
Tonight would be the premiere, and the after-party, this one organized by the studio. More opportunities for Odetta Olson to ruin our lives. Carmen ripped opened a small packet of sugar and dumped it in her coffee. Behind her stern face, I could see the mechanics of her mind; I knew her that well.
I also knew exactly what she liked to hear. “The problem is, we’re not Odetta Olson’s publicists. If we were, you’d be having a word with her right now.”
Carmen shook her head. “Girlfriend needs to pull her act together.She’s done this long enough; she should know better.”
“But we’re only working on the movie, and the studio has to approve everything we do. We both know they want everything safe and square.” My cup of coffee was halfway to my lips, but I put it down again. “What would you do differently if you didn’t have to play so nice?”
Carmen raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t have to show these studio execs that I’m an angel descended from heaven to bestow good press upon their cash cow, cough, cough, I mean masterpiece?”
I stifled a laugh and nodded.
“If you can’t get good publicity, there are ways to deflect the spotlight. Some more respectable than others.”
I was about to ask what she had in mind when she changed the subject.
“Where’s Golden Boy supposed to be right now?”
Carmen had met Ben a handful of times at work functions, and she hadn’t made much of an effort to disguise that he wasn’t her cup of CBD-infused tea. He’d been friendly and polite, fetching her drinks and asking meaningful questions about her business. So of course she’d started calling him Golden Boy. Carmen wouldn’t let anyone get away with trying too hard, the ultimate sin.
I shrugged. “Back at the hotel, chasing his next burst of inspiration.”
Carmen roared with delight. “Do I detect a hint of sarcasm piercing through Marnie Redd’s impeccable armor?”
She wasn’t wrong about that.
“He’s just been working at this so long,” I said, more neutrally.
“Did he ever hear back from the producer contacts I gave you?”
I froze. Carmen was a busy woman with a thriving business. She didn’t have time to remember that my boyfriend had begged me to ask her for industry contacts, which she had been generous enough to give. Carmen had worked in entertainment PR for two decades, she knew a lotof important people and was owed her fair share of favors.
But Ben didn’t know that, because I’d never passed along those contacts to him.
“I don’t think so,” I said, looking away.
“He didn’t tell you?”
I shook my head. “Sometimes I think he’s embarrassed about all the rejections. It’s hard on him.”
Carmen glanced behind me, distracted. “Is it?”
“He wants thissomuch. That’s all he talks about. He’s going to be a big shot screenwriter and write the next great American movie.”
