Behind the Scenes Page 9

“I thought there were some awfully wacky people in that first group,” AJ said. “That one woman looked like they found her in an alley. And the man in the UCLA sweatshirt sort of had beady eyes—”

  “AJ. Could you just listen, please?”

  “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms and preparing for battle.

  “About eighty per cent thought the show was a lot of fun.”

  “Fun is good.”

  “All of them would watch it again, with sixty per cent saying they’d tape it if they had to miss it.”

  AJ sat up straighter. These numbers were good, so he wasn’t quite sure where the ax was going to fall. Better not be on Tanya.

  “Five of them—five respondents, not five per cent—would have liked the show to be longer—”

  “Longer? Than an hour?”

  “Right. And include make-up and fashion.”

  “Tanya already gives make-up tips while she’s doing the hair.”

  “Asking the teenager if she was trying out for cupcake of the year with the glitter make-up doesn’t exactly qualify.”

  “Well, you have to admit—”

  “The point being—which you seem to be missing for someone who doesn’t usually miss much—the general consensus was that they wanted more Pretty Women, not less.”

  AJ’s crossed arms dropped. He couldn’t believe the deep sense of relief and pleasure he was feeling. “That’s good.”

  “Yes, it is. And they were taken with Tanya. She’ll probably get a couple of fan letters from the focus group alone.”

  “That’s . . . good, too. I mean, that’s great.”

  But he didn’t feel all that great about it. He wanted the show to succeed, and he wanted Tanya to do well, but he didn’t want that at one and the same time.

  He knew without a doubt that the show’s success would be directly proportional to how quickly he lost her.

  Which was crazy because he didn’t even have her to begin with.

  And yet, he couldn’t face her hurt if the show failed. Oh, she’d be fine. In fact, she’d probably skip out of town as fast as her long, gorgeous legs could take her. But she’d still feel as if she’d let down people who had placed a certain trust in her. He knew she wasn’t wired to blame anyone but herself, but he also knew that looking at him would be a constant reminder to her that she’d disappointed people she cared about, and he definitely wanted to see more of her, show or no show.

  It was a catch-22 that he didn’t know how to resolve.

  “AJ? You okay?”

  Mentally giving himself a shake, he nodded. “So what part of the reviews were mixed?”

  “Oh, you know. Some wanted more country music, some wanted more Hollywood gossip. That kind of thing.”

  “Tanya picks her music to fit the mood and she does an excellent job, if you ask me.”

  “I agree.”

  “And could you hear her if we suggested Hollywood gossip? I wouldn’t want to be in throwing range.”

  Frank grinned. “Is she becoming difficult?”

  “Hell, no!” AJ said, then realized he’d practically shouted it. “I mean, she just knows what she wants. And she has good instincts.”

  Leafing through the report, Frank said, “And then there’s this one suggestion that just might have merit.”

  “What?” AJ said, realizing he was getting just a little testy with focus groups in general and this one in particular.

  “Many of the respondents—the man in the UCLA sweatshirt most of all—were unhappy there were no men in her chair.”

  “No.”

  Frank’s eyebrows shot up. “No . . . what?”

  “No, we won’t be doing men.”

  “And exactly why not?”

  AJ couldn’t believe it. Had he just experienced a kneejerk reaction? He couldn’t ever remember having one before. “Well, for one, it’s called Pretty Women not Pretty People.”

  “We could fix that.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Again, why not?”

  He didn’t know, and he didn’t think he wanted to know, either. “Look, let’s see how it does just as it is before we start making plans to create drastic changes, okay?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Frank asked, but he had a suspiciously smug-like smile on his face.

  “Nothing. I just think we’re getting way ahead of ourselves here. Just because a small group of people think they like the idea of adding men, doesn’t mean it’s a good one.”

  “Should we ask Tanya what she thinks?”

  “Oh, she’ll have an opinion, no doubt,” AJ said. “But let’s not overload her right now. She’s just getting comfortable with the format as it is.”

  “Right.”

  “And if, down the road, we revisit the male guest thing, maybe we should get a male stylist to do those segments.”

  “You don’t think Tanya can cut men’s hair?”

  “Of course she can. But I just don’t see a reason to make that move right away.”

  “Okay.”

  AJ shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had the feeling Frank had had no intention of taking these hare-brained ideas seriously. Which meant AJ had just seriously overreacted. Which was so not like him.

  Feeling a little defensive, he said, “You know, I wouldn’t be so . . . concerned about this if it weren’t for Tanya being your niece.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  “And . . . you know, she’s enough to drive anyone crazy already. No offense.”

  “None taken. I raised her. I should know. She came by the Tanya the Terror moniker honestly.”

  “Tanya the . . . Terror?” AJ sputtered.

  “In high school. She was voted Most Likely To Frighten World Dictators,” Frank said, and he beamed as if he was proud of that fact.

  Who was AJ to argue with him? “That’s . . . quite an honor.”

  Frank laughed. “She was pleased. She didn’t take Homecoming Queen so well, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “If you have to ask that, you haven’t really gotten to know her at all.”

  “It’s just every high-school girl’s dream, it seems to me.”

  “Well, Tanya’s not exactly typical.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Frank’s smile turned wistful, as AJ had never seen from the man before. “My brother’d be proud of her. I know I am.”

  “As well you should be, Frank. She’s a helluva woman.”

  “Woman? My little Tanya, a woman? It doesn’t feel possible.”

  Trust me on that one, AJ thought, but wisely didn’t voice. “So tell me what the sponsors said,” AJ urged, realizing it was getting close to taping time for Pretty Women and he needed to hightail it over there, an insult in tow.

  He’d missed the last taping because of a previously scheduled meeting. From what Denny related, that episode was probably never going to air, except maybe in a bloopers reel. Tanya had been too stiff.

  He felt a strange sense of pride that she seemed to need him there, even though she acted as if he were the most irritating thorn known to womankind. “What did the sponsors think?”

  “Oh, them,” Frank said, in a funny way that seemed to shake each of them from their very different private thoughts of Tanya at the very same time. “They’re thrilled.”

  “Good.”

  “If ratings grow steadily in the right direction, they’re all ready to stay on board.”

  “Great to hear.”

  “In fact, they’re hoping if the ratings pan out that Tanya’s show will be the launching pad for some of their new products.”

  “She’ll never do it unless she believes in the stuff.”

  “I
know. And they know that, too. It actually makes her and the show even more appealing.”

  AJ stood up. “Sounds like we’re good to go, then, right?”

  “The promos for the première start playing tomorrow.”

  “Great. If that’s all, then, I need to get to the set.”

  Frank waved him out. “Go on, get out of here. I’d tell you to make sure my little girl looks good, but she doesn’t need you for that.”

  “She certainly doesn’t. Are you coming to the party?”

  “No. This is for the staff. One look at me and the polite chit chat begins. Nope, I’m taking my niece’s grandmother out for supper.”

  “What about Tanya’s mother? I thought she was down here, too. But she never comes to the set.”

  “Angelina went back to Sonora to take care of the house and their garden.”

  “Oh.”

  Frank eyed him. “Don’t get the impression she doesn’t care. She cares a great deal. But she thinks that if she stays in the background, she can’t be accused of being an interfering mother.”

  “Is she an interfering mother?”

  “Holy Moses, one of the worst. But Tanya’s all she has.”

  AJ had wondered on occasion if Tanya had any siblings. That answered that question. Maybe if she’d had brothers and sisters with whom to compete for attention, she’d be more outgoing dealing with groups.

  Then again, growing up, AJ had been battling anywhere between six and ten rivals for adult recognition. He didn’t recommend that route, either. “Where are you and Gran going? Luigis?”

  “Italian? You’ve got to be kidding me. My brain is turning into a noodle.”

  AJ laughed. “The staff loves Gran’s food. They think I’m the greatest provider in the universe for letting her feed them. Little do they know I couldn’t get her to stop if I begged.”

  Frank shook his head. “What a family. Well, you work with what you’ve got.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? “Tanya will probably miss you at the party, though.”

  “Are you sure Tanya’s even going to the party?”

  “I’ve already threatened to book her on a talk show if she didn’t attend,” AJ said.

  “Whoa! You don’t mess around.”

  “I mean, I am the boss.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “She’s in denial.”

  Chapter Nine

  THE BROADCAST première of Pretty Women was scheduled for eight p.m. Saturday. AJ hadn’t been surprised at the slotting for the show in the beginning. It was a late-season replacement, and didn’t exactly rank up there with the crime dramas for mass appeal.

  But the more he’d come to invest emotionally in the show, the more he’d studied other prime-time reality TV, the more he felt it deserved better placement than the lowest viewing night of the week.

  The powers that be felt differently. Their contention was that people who weren’t already out on weekend dates might like an upbeat show with helpful hints on improving their appearance, so Saturday it was.

  AJ figured Tanya would agree, if she cared one way or another, but she didn’t really understand what a generally poor time slot they had received.

  It was a good show. Without being overly or gratuitously sappy, Tanya somehow managed to instill hope in her guests, and in people watching her. She didn’t reduce viewers to tears on purpose, but it turned out that way sometimes without her even trying. She herself never cried, although her eyes did get misty occasionally. But many of her guests thanked her as if she’d just donated a kidney to save their dying kid. Even the crew on the set had taken to bringing extra boxes of tissues, just in case.

  AJ didn’t make it standard practice to hold a cast party the first night of a show’s airing, but when Lori, the stage manager, had suggested one, he’d shrugged and said okay. It was being held in JBC’s newly remodeled screening room in the east wing of the office building. The show would start at eight. The party was set for seven.

  At three on Friday afternoon, AJ was just finishing up some paperwork when Mrs. Peterson buzzed him. “A Sharyn Laramee to see you, AJ.”

  “Do I know a Sharyn Laramee?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but I’m guessing you will. She says she’s Tanya’s best friend, shop manager and roommate from back home. Also says she needs to see you.”

  AJ sat back for a second. “Okay. Send her in.”

  A tall blonde came striding through the door, a smile on her face. “Hey, nice to meet you finally,” she said, stepping to his desk and thrusting out her hand.

  She was pretty, with a really short haircut that worked perfectly with her bone structure and big hazel eyes. He figured that that style would work on maybe one per cent of the female population. She was one of the select few, and he’d bet good money Tanya cut her hair.

  He stood at her arrival, but she waved him into his seat and plopped down in the guest chair. “Bet you’re wondering what the hell I’m doing here, huh?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’re busy doing . . .” she looked around at his desk “ . . . whatever it is you do, so I won’t keep you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Like the lady out there told you—by the way, you’re even better looking in person, and your hair isn’t that bad—I’m Tanya’s best friend. I’m running the shop while she’s gone. We’ve been best friends since she beat up Taylor McCoy for me in fifth grade. So we go way back. We even share a house.”

  AJ just nodded, not quite sure what he was supposed to respond to if he was supposed to respond at all.

  Apparently not. At least, she didn’t stop long enough to indicate she expected any kind of response.

  “Anyway, I’m down for the weekend because she wanted me to come with her to this party tomorrow night. She got me in here today to give me a tour. But when she got sidetracked by somebody named Lori I gave her the slip and kept asking around ‘til I found where your office is. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Okay. Umm . . . what can I do for you?” he managed, still reeling from the fact that apparently Tanya was even complaining about his hair long distance. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through it.

  “You can help me get Tanya to this ‘Hollywood bash’ tomorrow night.”

  “Well, it’s mainly for the staff, so you won’t see Bruce Willis or anyone dropping by, but you should have a good time. But what makes you think she isn’t planning on coming?”

  “She offered to take me to Rodeo Drive instead. If you know Tanya, shopping is not real high up there on her list of fun activities. So, if she’s trying to bribe me with Rodeo, she’s decided not to come to the party.”

  AJ couldn’t believe it, but he was actually a little hurt. Not to mention mad. A little hurt. A lot mad. “Why wouldn’t she want to come to the party?”

  “She didn’t say, but I can venture a guess.”

  “Venture away.”

  “Big screen. Her mug. Possible toasts. That sort of thing. If she thinks she’s the center of attention, she’s going to jump out of that center as fast as she can.”

  “You know, that’s so twisted, you’re probably right.”

  “Oh. I’m sure I’m right.”

  After a moment, AJ stood up. “I can’t thank you enough for telling me.”

  “She’ll probably kill me, but what the hell.”

  “I’m not saying a word about meeting you. But, Sharyn, don’t get your hopes up for Rodeo. At least not tomorrow night.”

  Sharyn jumped to her feet. “I couldn’t afford anything, anyway. And that street isn’t going anywhere. This will probably be my one and only showbiz party.”

  “I’ll make sure she plans on being here. You get her here on time.”

 
“Deal.”

  “And my hair isn’t that bad, is it?”

  “She’s exaggerating because you scare her. No, it’s not that bad.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “But I’d fire my stylist if I were you,” she said as she headed toward the door.

  TANYA HAD BEEN summoned. She had been frantically running around, trying to find Sharyn, who Lord knew could be anywhere, and Mr. Big Shot had had the nerve to summon her to his sacred domain.

  She conjured a smile for Mrs. Peterson because as far as she could tell, Mrs. Peterson was a valuable ally, but she was steaming mad by the time she went in to his office.

  “You rang?” she said, leaning back against the door because she planned on making a quick exit.

  “Sit.”

  “I’ll stand, thanks.”

  “Sit down.”

  “No. I have something I need to do and you’re keeping me from it.”

  “Tanya, I’m not asking. Sit down.”

  That was when she realized she wasn’t the only one in this crowd with steam coming out of her ears. He looked seriously angry. His dimples were showing. That felt like a weirdly ominous sign.

  As much as she liked egging him on, as much as she found great satisfaction in trading barbs with him, she’d never, ever seen him seriously angry before. And making him seriously angry bothered her on so many levels it was hard to count them all.

  She knew she was a pain, but so was he—so that made them even. She knew she made huge mistakes and caused delays and other inconveniences, but she tried to make it up to everyone as best she could. She knew she was irritating sometimes, but she’d hoped that her honest attempt to do well on the show counted for something.

  Making him truly, honestly angry felt like a knife to her belly. He didn’t deserve to have anything, or anyone, make him that upset.

  She walked further into the office and sat. “What’s wrong?”

  AJ looked down at his desk for a long time, and she could swear he was trying really hard to get his temper under control.

  “Tell me what I did,” she whispered. “I’ll try to fix it.”

  Finally he looked up. “I know you don’t respect me—”

  “That’s not true!”