the shoulder. “That’s all any of us want for ourselves. As well as fame and fortune. But doing our best isn’t always enough. We have to be our own cheerleaders. We have to push and fight and do whatever it takes for the right people to notice us. It’s a killer business, and I think it’s even harder for young people like you who are just starting out. You have to be willing to do anything, and I mean anything, to get ahead.”
“I’m willing,” Mag said in earnest. “I’m totally focused. What else do I have to do?”
Polly nodded. “Do you take acting lessons? Elocution? Dance? Singing? Are you immersed in the works of Mamet, Strinberg, and Cole Porter? Do you have a five-year plan? Do you even know who Ethel Merman is? Did you kill Karen Richards for a job?”
Mag quickly stood up. “That’s a terrible thing to ask. Is that one of the rumors circulating among the cast? Gerold’s not going to like it when he hears that people are talking this way behind his back. Duck and cover is what you and everybody else should do. Gerold warned me about you. I was almost ready to tell him that he’s an idiot, but now…”
Polly shrugged. “But he is an idiot, dear. He’s like my manicurist who thinks that Ann Coulter is a messenger from the one and only true Republican God. Leave it to Coulter to have a partisan creator, and to Gerold for wrongly thinking that Sharon Fletcher killed Karen Richards. It’s true that there appears to be lots of silly stuff like…evidence…against her, but all of that can be explained. I won’t believe in Sharon’s guilt until she confesses. Even then…Let me ask just one dumb question. Where was Gerold during the time of the murder? Walking off the Ben & Jerry’s from the night before? Enjoying an intermission with you? Throwing Emmys as though they were horseshoes?”
“I’m way insulted, Miss Pepper. Like I’m totally stalled by your insinuation.”
“It’s just that a man with his, shall we say, girth would have been perspiring heavily in the heat of the morning if he’d been walking for two hours. He didn’t have one bead of sweat when he arrived at the theater.”
Polly reeled herself in. “I apologize, dear. I have a nasty habit of saying whatever comes into my mind. Thoughts just tumble past my lips.”
“Then it obviously crossed your mind that I had something to do with Karen’s death,” Mag shot back. “I didn’t even know the woman.”
Mag turned on her heel and walked off the stage. When she eventually returned, she was beside Gerold and speaking in a voice too low for anyone to hear. Every few seconds they glanced at Polly with threatening eyes.
Chapter 9
A s the publicity campaign for Mame ramped into high gear, the streetlamp poles in Glendale were hung with banners depicting the famous Hirschfeld caricature of Polly from her infamous musical flop, Erma La Douche . That show never made it past the savage critics in Chicago. They had lambasted the star for her attempt to reinvent her goody-goody image in a Las Vegas extravaganza–style show about a blithe Parisian prostitute. Equally excoriated were the lascivious choreography and the mundane songs. (However, rap artist Vel-Vee-Ta recorded the show’s most memorable songs: “Romeo in Juliet” and “Tits a Wonderful Life.”) Under the headline FOUL PLAY , the Sun Times critic wrote of the musical, “The cacophony is as monotonous and incessant as the screeching of a baby on an airplane.” Polly’s sights on Broadway were diverted back to Bel Air.
The backers of the show lost their investments, and the producers lost any chance of seducing funds from their wealthy friends for future projects. All were ruined, except Polly of course, who survived the disaster because the John Q. Public had more pressing priorities in their lives than to ferret out theater reviews of a stage musical. Other than the audiences who squirmed in their seats through the half dozen performances of the show in
“I’m willing,” Mag said in earnest. “I’m totally focused. What else do I have to do?”
Polly nodded. “Do you take acting lessons? Elocution? Dance? Singing? Are you immersed in the works of Mamet, Strinberg, and Cole Porter? Do you have a five-year plan? Do you even know who Ethel Merman is? Did you kill Karen Richards for a job?”
Mag quickly stood up. “That’s a terrible thing to ask. Is that one of the rumors circulating among the cast? Gerold’s not going to like it when he hears that people are talking this way behind his back. Duck and cover is what you and everybody else should do. Gerold warned me about you. I was almost ready to tell him that he’s an idiot, but now…”
Polly shrugged. “But he is an idiot, dear. He’s like my manicurist who thinks that Ann Coulter is a messenger from the one and only true Republican God. Leave it to Coulter to have a partisan creator, and to Gerold for wrongly thinking that Sharon Fletcher killed Karen Richards. It’s true that there appears to be lots of silly stuff like…evidence…against her, but all of that can be explained. I won’t believe in Sharon’s guilt until she confesses. Even then…Let me ask just one dumb question. Where was Gerold during the time of the murder? Walking off the Ben & Jerry’s from the night before? Enjoying an intermission with you? Throwing Emmys as though they were horseshoes?”
“I’m way insulted, Miss Pepper. Like I’m totally stalled by your insinuation.”
“It’s just that a man with his, shall we say, girth would have been perspiring heavily in the heat of the morning if he’d been walking for two hours. He didn’t have one bead of sweat when he arrived at the theater.”
Polly reeled herself in. “I apologize, dear. I have a nasty habit of saying whatever comes into my mind. Thoughts just tumble past my lips.”
“Then it obviously crossed your mind that I had something to do with Karen’s death,” Mag shot back. “I didn’t even know the woman.”
Mag turned on her heel and walked off the stage. When she eventually returned, she was beside Gerold and speaking in a voice too low for anyone to hear. Every few seconds they glanced at Polly with threatening eyes.
Chapter 9
A s the publicity campaign for Mame ramped into high gear, the streetlamp poles in Glendale were hung with banners depicting the famous Hirschfeld caricature of Polly from her infamous musical flop, Erma La Douche . That show never made it past the savage critics in Chicago. They had lambasted the star for her attempt to reinvent her goody-goody image in a Las Vegas extravaganza–style show about a blithe Parisian prostitute. Equally excoriated were the lascivious choreography and the mundane songs. (However, rap artist Vel-Vee-Ta recorded the show’s most memorable songs: “Romeo in Juliet” and “Tits a Wonderful Life.”) Under the headline FOUL PLAY , the Sun Times critic wrote of the musical, “The cacophony is as monotonous and incessant as the screeching of a baby on an airplane.” Polly’s sights on Broadway were diverted back to Bel Air.
The backers of the show lost their investments, and the producers lost any chance of seducing funds from their wealthy friends for future projects. All were ruined, except Polly of course, who survived the disaster because the John Q. Public had more pressing priorities in their lives than to ferret out theater reviews of a stage musical. Other than the audiences who squirmed in their seats through the half dozen performances of the show in
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