“Seriously?”
“Yeah. What did Weller talk about?”
“Oh, the glory days of the Hotel Bel-Air, his antipoverty work, and the history of his beaux arts mansion in Hancock Park.”
“What’s Hancock Park?”
“Some tony part of L.A., I guess. I think I have a bro crush. I’ve never had one on a gay guy.”
“You said he wasn’t gay.”
“I changed my mind. I think he had a thing for me. That’s why he wanted me near him. Gay men like me because of my feminine fingers.” Dan seemed drunk. He always got Pinocchio circles on his cheeks when he imbibed.
Maddy indicated a backless bench across the room where Weller was chatting with Munro Heming. “You should lower your voice,” she said. “He might hear you.”
“I’m sure everyone at this party knows it,” he said. “That’s why he didn’t bring Cady. She flew back to L.A. He said they broke up weeks ago. I said, ‘Why’d she come to Mile’s End?’ He said she loves indie film. Obviously, she was just arm candy.”
Dan went off to find the bathroom, and Maddy sat alone for a moment, sipping liqueur, before Zack Ostrow plopped down beside her. “My mom’s going to pitch herself to you tonight,” he said.
“What? I don’t think so. I’m not famous.” Though Bridget’s words about the film had been kind, that didn’t mean Bridget wanted to work for her.
“She’ll tell you not to consider me,” Zack said, ignoring the interruption. “Say I’m volatile and young. I’m not. Well, okay, I’m young. But you should consider me. Bentley Howard has been around since the eighteen hundreds, and you’ll be in very good hands.” Maddy wasn’t sure she trusted him. Who knew if he was even a full-fledged agent? Maybe he worked in the mail room. While he talked, he kept glancing around the room and flicking his eyes back at her. It seemed an affectation designed to convince her he wasn’t overly interested, which seemed strange for a man pitching his services.
“My mom and I do things very differently. She’s interested in setting up projects that make money. I’m interested in setting up projects that are good.”
“Can’t something be both?” she said.
“That’s my hope. That’s why I do it. If you really want to build a career, long-term, you should be with someone like me. I take time with my clients. With my mother, you’d get lost in the shuffle. Who’ve you met with here?” She told him about Nancy and Galt—it was important to let him know that other agents were interested. Immediately afterward, she regretted it, thinking two wasn’t enough to seem impressive.
“I know them both very well, and you’d be fine with either one,” Zack said. “But they’ll want you to move out to L.A.” Dan always said he would never live in Los Angeles, and though Maddy was open to it, she couldn’t imagine being apart from him. “You don’t have to move,” Zack added. “Better to be that intense, really good actress who lives in New York rather than another dime-a-dozen in L.A.”
“Did you just call me a dime-a-dozen?” Maddy asked, grinning.
“No. That’s the point. You have the goods.” As he said it, he gently clasped her forearm. She couldn’t tell if he was hitting on her. If he was, it seemed a stupid way to go about getting her as a client.
“If you’re right, and your mother is going to make me an offer,” Maddy said, extracting her arm, “why couldn’t I—I mean hypothetically speaking—sign with both of you? Since she’s a manager and you’re an agent?”
“Because I only work with people who are moving the needle.”
“Bridget isn’t?”
“You don’t have to whisper. She knows what I think. She operates under the old business model. Nothing wrong with that, except she thinks it’s still viable.”
“What’s the old model?”
“Where you put a star in a movie and it makes hundreds of millions of dollars. That was the ’80s. These days stars don’t sell movies.”
“What does?”
“Stories. That’s the future of entertainment. If an audience can dig in to a story, they’ll come out to the theaters. Mile’s End has created a world in which directors can be household names. Moviegoers are finally beginning to follow the storytellers. If you sign with me, I’ll pair you with them. She doesn’t even know who they are.” He stood up and crossed the room to the bar.
She sat there for a moment, dazed. It was a good pitch, although she didn’t know how much of it was true; Weller was clearly working with storytellers, such as Todd Lewitt, and surely Bridget had something to do with those roles.
Maddy stood up to find a bathroom. As she moved out of the living room, she ran into Bridget, coming out of the kitchen. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“So much,” Maddy said. “Thank you for having us. I think Dan is still getting over the fact that he was next to Steven.”
“Steven is such a fan of the film.” Maddy smiled, needing to pee but not wanting to offend Bridget Ostrow by ending the conversation. Bridget continued, “So has Zack pitched himself yet?”
“I’m not sure. I think he wants to sign me, yeah.” She was curious as to what Bridget would say.
“Of course he does. Listen, he’s my son, and I want nothing more than for him to succeed, but he’s very green. And he’s ambivalent about agenting. He’s trying it on for size. I wouldn’t put money on him doing it in five years.” Maddy was surprised by how openly Bridget was undermining her own son. Then again, Zack had just done the same thing. “Maddy, I think you’re very talented, and in case I haven’t made it clear enough, I’d like to work with you.”
So Zack had been right. Bridget Ostrow wanted to work with her. And she didn’t even know if I Used to Know Her would be released. It felt like a huge gesture of faith, to think she could have a career. “I—I don’t know what to say,” she stammered. “Thank you.”
“Now, I know it gets a little confusing, the manager-versus-agent thing. Managers produce their clients’ projects and guide their careers. Agents can’t. I think you should relocate, because L.A. is where the work is. I believe in you. I don’t have a lot of clients. Currently seven. A small shop lets me work harder. I don’t do volume. Like that old Robert Klein DJ routine. ‘How do I do it? Volume!’ ” Bridget smiled at her for a beat, and then rested her hand on Maddy’s forearm, near where Zack had. “Anyway, I’m an absolute warhorse, I’ve been doing this forever. You can ask anyone. But you don’t have to decide right now, honey. Think it over.” She slipped her a card.
After Bridget left, Maddy headed for the bathroom. It was occupied, and the half-bath was, too, so she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Upstairs, she wasn’t sure which door led to the bathroom. She pushed against one that was slightly ajar, but when she peered inside, she was startled to see Zack on a huge bed across the room, having sex doggie-style with a shorthaired girl. Neither Zack nor the girl turned, and Maddy shut the door quickly, not sure if he had seen her.
When she found the bathroom, she locked the door and leaned against it. Bridget had been right—he wasn’t serious about being an agent. It wasn’t the sex, it was the flaunting of it. The door open, as though he was broadcasting that he had come to Mile’s End to party. She thought back to the way he had touched her arm.
Downstairs, she couldn’t find Dan. She wanted to tell him about Bridget. She felt light-headed from the wine and liqueur.
She got her coat, slipped out the front door, and went to the side of the house, hoping the cold air would clear her head. She sat at a cedar patio table, crossing her arms. It was snowing lightly. She remembered being eight or nine, her dad coming into her bedroom one morning, opening the curtains so she could see the thick white clumps.