Madison Avenue Shoot Read Online Free PDF Page B

show. Said it makes me memorable. They may be right. My last cookbook’s been flying off the shelves, not quite as fast as your books of course,” she said, reaching out and tapping me on the arm, “but we’re doin’ good.”
    Antonio returned with a waiter holding a tray on which were two mugs, one with coffee and one tea, as well as a bowl of sugar, a pitcher of cream, and a small dish of lemon slices. He also brought with him a lanky man I recognized, and in their wake a young woman with dark hair clutching a clipboard to her chest and appearing ill at ease. The tall man batted his hand behind his back, stopping the young woman in her tracks.
    “Jessica, my dear, it’s been a long time,” he said. “How is the world treating you?” He raised the half-glasses that were dangling from a cord around his neck, and peered at me through the lenses as if they were a monocle. He spoke with a British accent.
    “Hello, Lance, nice to see you again,” I said, taking my mug from the tray.
    “Ah, you already have the acquaintance made of this gentleman,” Antonio said.
    “Mr. Sevenson and I were on a panel together in Wisconsin a number of years ago.”
    “It was before the success of my show when I was flogging one of my early books.” He tapped a long finger on his thin lips. “ Crystals in Your Life , I think that was the one. Book tours are the pits. All those housewives in hair rollers.” He raised his eyebrows, leered at Stella, and slid his glasses on his nose. “ ’Course, I’d love to see you in hair rollers.”
    “It’ll never happen, darlin,’ ” she said, but her answering smile was brittle. “Excuse me, y’all. I have to find Jimbo, my manager.” She took her coffee from the tray and walked away.
    I introduced Grady to Antonio and Lance.
    “Keeping your aunt out of trouble?” Lance asked.
    “Actually, I work for the production company’s, uh, payroll company,” Grady said.
    “Oh goody. Are you the one writing us the big checks?”
    “Not really. No. The agency pays the talent, not the production company.”
    “And we are the ‘talent,’ ” Lance said, guffawing. “Oh, I like that word. As if anyone could think that woman is talented.” He cocked his head toward Stella Bedford’s back. “Or that one, for that matter.” He tipped his head down so he could peer over his half-glasses.
    I followed his gaze to a woman with long straight blond hair who was arguing with Betsy Archibald. She wore a sleeveless black scoop-neck dress with knee-high black boots. A quilted red bag hung from her shoulder by a gold chain, leaving her hands free to wave in the air as she spoke animatedly, light reflecting off the many rings on her fingers. She was frowning, and I got the impression Betsy was not about to placate her.
    “La bocca,” Antonio said, seeing the direction of our eyes. “ Mah! She is a difficult woman. Yes. But bella ! So beautiful. And many people listen to her.”
    “She’s got a mouth all right,” Lance said, “but no one pays attention to what she says. She’s a total bimbo.” He looked at me. “You and I are the only true stars in the firmament here, my dear. The others are strictly wannabes. Poor Betsy. No wonder she pushed me into this. I’ll see you later. Gotta feed my genius.” He patted his stomach and ambled off toward the buffet.
    Antonio looked distressed. “Bimbo? I don’t know this word.”
    “Just as well,” I said.
    “Is this a bad thing?”
    “It’s not a compliment. Apparently, Mr. Sevenson does not count himself among Anne Tripper’s fans.”
    “But many do,” Antonio said, reassuring himself that he had the right people to represent his credit card. “She is big on the television. Even in Italy, we know who she is. You have her acquaintance, yes?”
    “We haven’t had the pleasure,” I said.
    “But no, this is not right. Come! I will present you. All my wonderful people must know each other.” Antonio steered me in the direction of Betsy