So 5 Minutes Ago Read Online Free Page B

Show, like it or not. When you break it all down, all the bullshit, all the covers, the photo shoots, the premieres, the schmoozing and the lying, it all comes down to a sleazy guy trying to sell you something.
             
    When G finally quits buzzing, the room erupts into the chaos of exiting and a mad rush for the cake. “I’m going to forage,” Steven says, plunging into the crowd.
    “So, as I was saying,” Charles says at my elbow, startling me. “Congratulations on being a member of the BIG new team.” His tone is difficult to read, but it seems, or perhaps it’s only wishful thinking on my part, to be entirely ironic.
    “Thanks ever so much,” I say, aiming for the same barely detectable irony. “So you’re here because . . . ?”
    “Actually I’m in town for the transition,” he says, taking my elbow and steering me into a slightly less crowded corner of the room. “I’m making the rounds of our publicists, easing them into the new agency, as it were. Which means I have to schedule some time with you.”
    He gives me a knowing look and I realize I know next to nothing about him other than he looks totally out of his element. Like he should be on a boat. Or in a Ralph Lauren ad. He’s also not wearing a wedding ring, I notice. Perhaps I’m not the only one whose life took a wrong and unexpected turn.
    “Shouldn’t you be in a law office somewhere? Or Boston?” I blurt out and instantly regret my familiarity.
    He gives me a quizzical but not wholly unpleased look. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Meanwhile, given my current corporate duties, when can you pencil me in?”
    “Uhm, I’m sure I have some time this week,” I say, fumbling for my Palm Pilot, when Steven reappears bearing two paper plates of cake. “For those of us not on Atkins,” he says before catching sight of Charles. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”
    “Charles, Steven. Steven, Charles,” I say, giving Steven a “Can we please do the sugar thing later?” look.
    “Good to meet you,” Charles says, extending a hand while Steven fumbles with the plates.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see G and Suzanne threading their way through the crowd in our direction. Oh, great.
“Chahles,”
Suzanne drawls at top volume, waving him over.
“Chahles.”
    “I think Blanche and Stanley have you on their dance card,” I say, nodding in Suzanne’s direction. Charles gives me a slow smile and I have a sudden urge to grab his green tie and never let go.
    Instead, I opt for the door, making noises about finding him later. After G and Suzanne. After my meeting with Troy. After I return to the land of the living.
             
    It takes me most of the drive to the Chateau to get my head out of G and into Troy. Actually, it takes most of the drive to get my head out of Charles and into Troy. How had I been so oblivious to him back in New York? And how long is he going to be in L.A.? I have to give this some serious thought. After I dispatch Troy.
    But when I hit the Chateau’s lobby, Troy—typically—is no-where to be found. What now? Sit and order a drink? That bespeaks confidence and a certain casualness and God knows I could use it. Might even put Troy at ease. Or maybe it’s
too
casual. Not enough deference to his place in the pantheon. Oh Christ, who knows what his place in the pantheon is? He’s the one in need of help. He’s called the meeting.
Sit.
    I’m eyeing the room, which is filling with insouciant actor types looking like they have too much money and too little sleep, when Troy ambles in. Three trips to rehab but he still has the right look—jeans, leather jacket, 5 percent body fat. He’s also nibbling a half-eaten apple and he has his dog, the requisite foundling from a pound, tugging at his side. The whole thing screams, “cute but dangerous.” I hate it when they bring their animals. Animals are worse than cell phones. But that’s the rule: celebrities