We'll Always Have Parrots(24)

Just then, I saw Nate walk into the green room. The writer’s reaction to Maggie was atypical. He started, and then headed for her table.

I was curious, so I signaled Michael, and we strolled over so we could eavesdrop.

“Please, Maggie,” Nate pleaded. “You know how she gets.”

“You mean she’s not looking forward to our reunion  ?” Maggie said, in a husky voice.

“She practically took off some kid’s head because he tried to get her autograph on a program you’d already signed. And if she sees you and—Oh, God, not you, too!” Nate moaned, catching sight of me.

“Someone else who has the temerity to displease the Great and All-Powerful Porfiria,” Maggie said. “Nate, my enemy’s enemy is my friend; please introduce me to my new friend.”

“Maggie West, Meg Langslow,” Nate said. “Now will you both please leave before she gets here?”

“So what’s your crime against Amblyopia?” Maggie asked.

“It was my nephew she savaged in the autograph line,” I said.

“So you’re the one who rubbed her nose in it,” Maggie said, with another hearty laugh. “Walker just told me.”

Even Nate smiled at Maggie’s laugh, but only faintly.

“Maggie, please,” he said.

“Oh, all right,” Maggie said, standing up. “I’m supposed to be going onstage at four—do you know where I can find the Atlantis Ballroom, Meg Langslow? Last time I tried to find my way around this dump, I ended up in the laundry room.”

“I’ve been to the ballroom, though that doesn’t mean I can find it again,” I said.

“We’ll give it a try together, shall we?” Maggie said.

I glanced at my watch. Only three-thirty—maybe Maggie wasn’t that eager to meet the QB, either.

“I should stay here and take my turn on the front lines,” Michael said. “Can you meet me for an early supper—about four-thirty?”

“Four-thirty it is,” I said. “Yes, Nate, we’re going now.”

Maggie and I left through one door just as the QB sailed in through the other.





Chapter 13




“Actually, I’d love to stay and rile up the old cow,” Maggie said, linking her arm through mine as we strolled down the hall with her official escorts trailing behind. “But I don’t want to spoil the convention for these nice people. Not the first day, anyway. Maybe Sunday; these things usually get deadly by Sunday afternoon. So you’re the reason tall-dark-and-handsome Mephisto is out of circulation.”

A trio of fans came up to talk to her, and no sooner had she finished autographing their programs and moved on than another group appeared, and I realized that it probably would take Maggie a full thirty minutes to work her way through the crowd to the ballroom. Watching her in action, I had flashes of recognition. I had seen her in movies after all—as a madam with a heart of gold in an otherwise forgettable western, and as a wise and caring therapist in a tear-jerker that had starred Julia Roberts or possibly Sandra Bullock.

After I dropped Maggie off, I checked back in the dealers’ room. Things were slow. As I approached the booth, Steele was shaking hands with the sword-and-sorcery producer. Had they been talking the whole time I was gone? Maybe the guy was serious about hiring Steele.

“Sorry it took me a while,” I said.

“No problem,” he said. “Your sword-crazy friend Chris seems happy to spell me if I need to step out.”

“Have you eaten yet?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“I can mind the booth while you do,” I said.

He shook his head, and I saw his eyes following the producer, who stood nearby talking on his cell phone. I still didn’t trust the producer. And more than ever, I suspected Steele didn’t mind my absences because he was nervous that I’d snag the commission instead of him. I could have told him that from what I’d seen of film work, I didn’t want the commission. But I didn’t think he’d believe it. And for all I knew, I’d change my mind if the big shot dangled a large enough check.

“Or if you like, I can bring you something,” I said. “There’s a fantastic spread in the green room; I can raid that.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” he said.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I said.

“No rush,” he said absently. The supposed Hollywood big shot was hanging up.

The QB had departed, fortunately, and the green room was more crowded than before. Probably because they’d just laid out an additional wine and cheese spread.

I stepped aside to avoid being trampled in the mad rush to the new food, and found myself standing by a table where Walker was sitting.