Power Play Read Online Free PDF Page B

Oscar.
    But oh my, how time flies when you’re making bundles of money. Every time her contract came up for renewal, she was in agony. Should she renew, cling to the job security? Or should she venture out into the bigger world and try to get the admiration for her talent that she craved? In the end, she always signed on the dotted line. The salary was just too good to pass up. And truth be told, she liked the attention. That was one of the primary reasons people became actors. They needed the attention. They wanted to be loved.
    Monica wanted to be loved.
    She picked up her phone, dialed the number of her personal publicist, Theresa Dante, and made an appointment to come in.

THREE
    â€œHow the hell are you?!”
    â€œI’m good.” Monica melted into Theresa Dante’s hug, put at ease by her warm greeting. She knew of other personal publicists who excoriated their clients for remaining under the radar for a while, calling them endlessly to urge them to do more, more, more. Theresa wasn’t like that, perhaps because she didn’t need to be. FM PR, the firm Theresa had started with her best friend, Janna, boasted a huge client list.
    â€œSit, sit,” Theresa urged. Monica settled on the large leather couch in Theresa’s cluttered office, her eyes lighting on the picture on Theresa’s desk of her husband, Michael, and their three kids. “I can’t believe how big the kids have gotten!”
    â€œTheir mouths are bigger, believe me,” Theresa replied wryly. “Did Terrence come out and offer you any coffee?”
    â€œHe’s brewing a fresh pot. Said he’ll be in, in a minute.”
    â€œGood boy. He got a promotion, as you can tell from our new receptionist. He’s my PA now.” She sat down on the couch beside Monica. “Give me all the dirt from W and F .”
    Monica chuckled, remembering that Theresa had gotten her start as a publicist at the show. “Who do you want to know about?”
    Theresa thought a moment. “Nicholas Kastley.”
    â€œYou mean Nicholas Ghastly.” Both women laughed. “Well, he’s about a hundred and five now, and blind as a bat. He can’t remember his lines, so he has them taped all over the place: on the backs of chairs, on banisters. He won’t wear contacts for some insane reason.”
    â€œHe’s always been that way. One time he mistook me for a coat stand.”
    â€œWell, about two months ago, he tripped over a coffee table and broke his left leg. He wouldn’t admit it was his fault. He claimed Gloria Hathaway was trying to kill him.”
    â€œOh, God.” Theresa’s palm flew to her mouth, but Monica could see she wanted to laugh.
    â€œThere are rumors that when his contract is up, his character is going to be killed off. Buried alive, I think.”
    â€œOoh, that’s good,” said Theresa with wide eyes. “I don’t think they’ve ever done that.”
    â€œKnock, knock, who’s there,” a haughty voice called from the doorway. “Terrence. Terrence who? Terrence, Theresa’s personal slave.”
    Theresa rolled her eyes, beckoning him inside. “Just give us the coffee and be gone with you.”
    â€œSee how she treats me?” Terrence lamented, handing over two coffees. He clasped his hands reverentially as he stood before Monica. “I just have to tell you, I think the show has been great lately. Great. I TiVo it and watch it when I get home from work around nine o’ clock at night—if I’m lucky.” He gave Theresa a pointed look, which she ignored, then turned back to Monica with worshipful eyes. “I loved that scene with you and Gloria Hathaway where you tore off her wig to reveal Antonia was bald.”
    Monica bowed her head with pleasure. “Thank you.”
    Terrence sighed. “Well, I’m off to put my chains back on and resume breaking rocks.” He regarded Theresa.