So 5 Minutes Ago Read Online Free Page A

worth living. Like a weekend sail off Nantucket. Or opening presents on Christmas morning. Or a cab ride through Central Park during one of winter’s first snowfalls.
    “Yes, well, I don’t suppose I could convince you I got lost,” I say, and I feel my cheeks flush.
    “Actually, I think you took a wrong turn off Broadway,” he says, his smile deepening. “By the way, how is Hollywood treating you?”
    “About the way it treats anybody. With great indifference.”
    “That’s not what I hear,” he says.
    I’m about to ask him what he means, what
exactly
he means, and of course why he happens to be here and not in New York, when there’s a commotion at the door. Suzanne and G, looking like the bride and groom. Except she’s taller. There are also two blondes. Bridesmaids. Or maybe G’s bodyguards.
    “Thank
yew
—everyone—for such a great turnout,” Suzanne says, quickly moving to the center of the room. She’s in another one of her white suits, and with her short, gray-blond hair and Southern drawl that she refuses to lose, she could pass for Tom Wolfe.
    Great turnout?
Yeah, like any of us could have not showed for this dog-and-pony show?
    “I know a lot of
yew
have already met Doug,” Suzanne drawls on. “But we wanted to officially welcome all of
yew
—all of
us
—to BIG-DWP.”
    There’s a brief round of applause followed by a buzzing that I realize is G addressing the crowd. I have to stand on my toes to see him. With his big head, tiny body, and orangey Bob Evans tan, he looks like Mr. Potato Head. Only with a better tailor.
    “I look around this room and I have only one question,” G says, a smile gripping his face. “How did I get so lucky?”
    Lucky?
G is being unbelievably patronizing, but a titter of laughter sweeps the room along with a few self-conscious glances. I look over at Charles to see how he’s taking all this but his face is unreadable. Well, he’s been a publicist longer than I have.
    G runs a hand over his hair and plunges on. “I mean, I look at this group of amazing women,” he says, turning to Suzanne, who’s grinning like an idiot, “and I wonder why we didn’t join forces before. Can anyone tell me?”
    There’s an awkward silence like he’s actually waiting for someone to answer him. “Well,” G finally blurts out, raising his plastic glass of Coke. “All I know is we’re going to make one beautiful agency.”
    There is a smattering of applause and I feel a hand creeping across mine for the Coke I’m holding.
    “Word is you get nada,” Steven breathes into my ear. “Too new.”
    “Already heard that piece of good news,” I say, yanking the Coke back. “Equity cutoff positions or whatever they’re called.”
    “Well, have you heard the contract’s a killer?”
    I whip around.
    “Publish or perish, my dear.”
    “We’re already on commission,” I whine.
    “It’s the BIG new way. More commission, less salary. And you gotta make your quota.”
    “Great. Suzanne gets to retire and I get a quota.”
    “Well, she’s not exactly retiring,” Steven adds, dropping his voice. “Not yet, although Stan’s supposedly leaving by the end of the month. Taking his money and running. Suzanne’s sticking it out.”
    “Because she loves the business so much?” I can’t imagine staying in Hollywood if somebody pressed half a million into my hand. Or whatever Suzanne’s getting for selling the company she cofounded to G.
    “Think it’s some future deal G has cooked up. The longer she stays, the more money she gets, or more equity. I don’t know. Don’t go by me.”
    “Why not? You’re the one with your own portfolio,” I say. “I just have Barneys bills and a lease.”
    “And your new contract!” Steven says, flashing me his best fake smile.
    G is nattering on, but I’ve heard enough. Or at least enough to know Suzanne isn’t the only one whose cherry just got popped. My three-year introduction to Hollywood is officially over. This is The