Page 111 of Anyone But the Superstar

Bell’s expression softens. ‘Yeah, I get it. If someone threatened my mom, I would’ve lost it.’

‘Me too!’

Pivoting toward the office entrance – the non-secret one – I’m greeted by a cat in a stroller being pushed by a girl wearing an astronaut helmet and a glitter-speckled tutu.

The cat – who from his hairy nature, I can only assume is the regal King Dick Moore – yawns under his lace bonnet.

‘I’d get mad if someone was mean to my mommy.’

Alice seems to melt at the little girl’s words. ‘Thank you, Mary.’

Thomas strides to the little girl, bending down to kiss her nose before closing her visor.

Mary giggles, flipping her visor back open. ‘Did you figure out how to get him to tell Aunt Liz that he loves her, yet?’ She looks expectantly at Thomas.

‘Not yet.’

She pouts at his reply before pushing the stroller and cat toward the couch. ‘Did you show him the list?’ With a grunt, Mary lifts Dick out of the stroller, lowering him to one side of the couch.

Mike abandons Chase, leaping from his arms and bounding up onto the cushion next to Dick’s.

‘The list.’ Alice rocks back on her heels, clapping her hands. ‘I almost forgot.’ She hurries across the large Oriental rug and out the door.

I address the only one who seems to know what’s going on. ‘You made a list?’

Mary nods, settling herself between the two cats. ‘In case you had trouble coming up with ideas for the gesture.’

‘Gesture?’

‘Here it is!’ Alice re-enters the office, pushing a rolling whiteboard into the room.

Studying the many colored Post-it notes arranged in a grid-like pattern on the board, I move closer to read one. ‘Thread golf balls in arch over new Gucci golf bags.’

‘Oh no.’ Alice places both hands on my arm to guide me back a few steps so she has room to flip the whiteboard over.

Thomas incinerates my arm with his eyes.

‘Thisis the list.’

I stare at the wobbly letters written in all-caps and in alternating colors.

‘I wrote it,’ Mary chimes in, somehow having procured a tea set which she’s set up on the coffee table, cups in front of her, Mike and King Dick.

Even the best Hollywood scriptwriters couldn’t make this stuff up.

Forcing my attention back to the board, I read the first line out loud. ‘Hang a billboard saying, “I’m sorry” in Times Square.’

‘Simple and effective.’ Bell’s face lights up. ‘Plus, I know all the marketing people in New York.’ She snaps her fingers. ‘I could get this done tonight, no problem.’

Navigating her idea as I would any writer pitching me a role Idon’twant, I try for diplomacy. ‘Why, I think that’s agreatidea, and I thank yousomuch for offering to help, but I’m having trouble seeing how that would appeal to Elizabeth.’

Bell’s expression flattens.

‘Elizabeth hates being the center of attention,’ I explain. ‘I’m not sure drawing all of New York’s and probably the country’s attention to her is the best idea.’

Her lips twist to the side, muttering, ‘Well, we could always just post the picture of you and your apron.’

Chase jerks his eyes to his wife. ‘What was that?’

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