Pandy breathed a sigh of relief as she picked up her glass and held it to her lips. Pink champagne was her favorite drink, and now it was a reminder that she was not Hellenor. That all would be fine.
PP lifted his glass. “To Monica,” he said.
Pandy nearly choked, but PP didn’t notice. He kept on smiling away, as if nothing were strange. “Tell me,” he said conversationally, “how much do you know about Monica?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Were you a fan?” he asked cautiously.
“I guess you could say that,” Pandy snapped.
“Good. What was your favorite Monica movie?”
“Movie? What about book?” Pandy demanded. She took a larger gulp of champagne. As usual when it came to PP, she was feeling increasingly insulted.
“Book, then. That’s even better. You’re a real fan.” PP smiled and put down his glass. “I assume you’ve read them all.”
For a second, Pandy could only gape at him in disbelief. “I know them inside and out.”
PP nodded.
Pandy put down her glass as well. “Now, listen, PP,” she repeated. “You do realize—”
“Shhhh.” PP patted her hand and glanced at the swinging doors.
Right on cue, Chookie came through, setting down a silver tray with tiny sandwiches before retreating once more. Pandy pushed the tray away and looked at PP imploringly. “I am PJ Wallis. I created Monica.”
PP stared at her briefly. Then he shook his head.
“I’m—” Pandy tried again, but PP put his hand on her arm to stop her from talking. “There’s been a huge mix-up,” Pandy said desperately. “And no one will believe me.”
Suddenly she had a terrible thought: If she couldn’t be PJ Wallis, she might as well be dead. She slumped onto the counter. When would this nightmare end?
PP patted her on the back. “There, there,” he said, as if speaking to a child. “It’s going to be okay. You were so overcome by the death of your sister, for a moment, you thought you were her.” He stared at her curiously and then smiled knowingly. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “You were joking. You’re funny, too. Just like your sister.”
Pandy wanted to cry. She reminded herself to stay calm. SondraBeth would arrive soon, and she would know that she was Pandy.
“I truly am sorry about your loss. I always liked your sister,” PP said.
Pandy lifted her head and sat up. “Well, that’s funny. Because SondraBeth always said you hated Pandy.”
PP suddenly looked incensed, as if he’d been caught out. So he had complained about her to SondraBeth after all.
“I don’t know where SondraBeth got that idea,” PP said. “In any case, I knew her well. Your sister, I mean. She and her husband—that is, her ex-husband—were friends of mine.”
Pandy’s expression froze. Perhaps being Hellenor wasn’t such a bad idea after all. For a few minutes, anyway. In which she might be able to extract information about Jonny from PP.
“Are you still friends with Jonny?” she asked casually.
PP leaned forward conspiratorially. “Frankly, I’d like to strangle the guy. He owes me money.”
“You too, huh?” Pandy said, nodding. Apparently Jonny’s grifting was more extensive than she’d thought.
“Why do women like Pandy marry men like that? She was so…spunky. Confident. Smart. But then she met Jonny and…” PP shrugged. “Why don’t women know to avoid that type of guy?”
“You tell me,” Pandy said, sipping her champagne while thinking that PP was cut from very much the same cloth as Jonny.
“Your sister was quite attractive,” PP said, clearing his throat.
“Yes, she was…” Pandy suddenly became acutely aware of her appearance: dressed in Hellenor’s construction boots and flannel shirt, with her bald pate, she must look like something out of an old Saturday Night Live sketch. She flushed in annoyance as she realized that PP was trying to flatter “Hellenor” in order to sway her. Pandy wondered just how far he was willing to go to keep his precious Monica franchise safe.
“Okay, PP,” she said. “Let’s say I am Hellenor Wallis. What then?” She reached for the champagne bottle.
“Well, you’re going to be a very rich woman.”
Pandy smirked as she refilled her glass, wondering if PP knew about all the money Jonny had taken from her.
“But what about Jonny?” she asked. “What about all that money Pandy supposedly owes him in the settlement?”
“Oh, jeez. That,” PP said. “Jonny is a bit of a problem, and believe me, I understand. But eventually he’ll go away. And in the meantime, we’re planning to make lots and lots of Monica movies.”
“More Monica!” Pandy said with false cheer.
PP patted her on the shoulder. “As I said, eventually you’ll be a very rich woman. Thank God for Monica, right?” he added as Judy came through the door.
Pandy sighed.
Judy turned to Pandy. “Hellenor? Can I bring you back to the suite? SondraBeth will be down to see you in ten.”
Back in the basement, Pandy flopped onto the bed. She turned on the TV, figuring she might as well catch up on her so-called death while she was waiting for SondraBeth.
It was the usual news loop: a live report from the San Geronimo festival, and then there it was, an update on her demise: PJ Wallis, creator of Monica, reported dead in a tragic fire at her childhood home in Wallis, Connecticut.
And suddenly, there she was on the screen…with Jonny at a black-tie event—the same event where SondraBeth had warned her against him. And she was so naïve that she was actually smiling…
The screen cut to a close-up of a fan laying a pink plastic champagne glass on an already large pile that also contained stuffed animals. The camera pulled back to reveal her building.
“Hundreds of fans gathered outside her apartment…”
“No!” Pandy shouted at the TV. This could not be happening. Her so-called death was not supposed to be her next big moment. Her next big moment was supposed to have been about her new book, Lady Wallis. And there he was again: the cause of all this trouble—Jonny.
Now he was pushing through the crowd outside her building, trying to get in. Pandy groaned. Of course he would know that Pandy had left the Monica rights to Hellenor. His lawyers had been over every single one of her contracts with a fine-tooth comb.
Jonny would know that if Hellenor decided to execute her rights, there would be no more Monica—and no more money for Jonny.
And now Jonny knew Hellenor could ruin him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AS PROMISED, we’re going back live to the San Geronimo festival,” said the voice from the screen.
Right now, Jonny must be furious, Pandy thought gleefully. And for a second, she was happy. Then she looked back at the monitor. Three young women were jumping up and down and screaming, raising glasses of pink champagne to Monica.
“Hellenor?” Judy’s voice came over the intercom. “SondraBeth in one.”
“Thanks,” Pandy said. Remembering that Jonny’s fury over her supposed death would be short-lived, she went out into the living room. The suite had a damp smell, as if someone had just turned on the air-conditioning. It was still stuffy, so Pandy tugged open the window.