Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [87]
“I doubt I’ll ever forget,” I said sincerely. “So we’re still doing the original scene?” The one where I would spend most of my time on my knees in front of Nolan.
“Yes. Oh, and Esther? Mike is waiting on the other line because he wants to talk to you.”
“He does?” I said in surprise.
“Yes. Anyhow, unless something changes and you hear from us again, we’ll see you Monday evening,” she said cheerfully. “Now hold for Mike Nolan, please.”
“Hello?” I said when I heard the line click.
“Who the fuck is this?” said Nolan’s familiar voice.
I resisted the urge to hang up on him. “Esther Diamond. You wanted to speak to me?”
“Oh, right.”
He was still at the hospital, but he had just finished checking out and was now waiting for the arrival of the car that would take him home. And he wanted to talk to me about the scene we’d be filming on Monday. Mostly, he seemed to be concerned that I would screw it up.
After a few minutes of listening to him giving me unsolicited advice and unwanted direction, I decided it was time to change the subject. “I want to thank you, by the way, for how nice you were to my friend yesterday evening.”
“What friend?” he said.
“Jeff,” I said. “Jeffrey Clark.”
“Who?”
“The man I brought with me to visit you last night,” I said.
“The old guy from Oxford?”
“No, the bald man who stayed with you after I left.”
“Oh, right! Nice guy.” There was a pause. ““His name was Jeff?”
Apparently the bonding had been a little one-sided.
“I gather you offered to speak to the show’s casting director about him,” I said. “That was very good of you.”
“Huh?”
“You’re going to talk to the casting director about Jeff,” I reiterated.
“Why would I do that?” He sounded puzzled.
“So that Jeff can audition for him.”
“Jeff’s an actor?” There was surprise in Nolan’s voice. “I thought he was a fan. I thought that’s why he asked you to introduce us.”
“He’s an actor,” I said. “And you’re going to talk to—”
”Oh, come on, Esther. I can’t go pestering the casting director on behalf of every aspiring actor who talks his way past security to meet me.”
I gave it one more shot. “Jeff Clark’s not aspiring. He’s very accomplished. He—”
“Forget it,” Nolan said. “I’m not a charitable institution.”
I sighed and dropped the subject. I felt a little sorry for Jeff, but Nolan’s reaction wasn’t exactly a surprise to me.
“Well, I hope you continue feeling better, Mike,” I said as I saw Lopez reenter the lobby. He looked around the empty area and then walked over to me. “I’ll see you back on the set on Monday.”
“Another thing I was thinking about,” Nolan said. “When you’re kneeling in front of me and you say—”
“I’ve got to go,” I said, looking up at Lopez. “Bye.”
As I ended the call, Lopez asked without enthusiasm, “The set of The Dirty Thirty?”
I nodded. “We’re resuming filming of my episode on Monday.” I recounted the news I’d just received.
“Are you kidding?” He sat down beside me on the stairs. “That guy had a heart attack less than forty- eight hours ago. Is he crazy?”
“I have a feeling he’s afraid to miss work. The show has two other talented costars and a strong supporting cast,” I said. Actually, for all that he was a jerk, Nolan was a compelling performer and his antihero character was very popular, but I didn’t underestimate the neuroses of a self-absorbed star. “I’ll bet that Nolan is worried he’ll lose the spotlight if he gets written out of a few episodes because of his health.”
“Even so,” Lopez said, “you’d think that the risk of dying young would scare him more.”
I smiled at my practical companion. “You don’t know actors.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
More than ready to stop discussing Michael Nolan, I asked, “Is Napoleon locked up?”
“They call him Napoleon? I’d say he’s about two feet taller than his namesake. Anyhow, yeah, he’s contained.” Lopez added, “And his cage is nicer than my first apartment.”
“Then you’d think he would spend more time in it.” I put my cell phone away. “It’s such a relief to have my purse back. Thank you so much!”
“No problem.”
“Where did