Jane Goes Batty

hitting her in the face.

“Sorry,” the woman said. “You weren’t answering.”

The woman was thin, with pale skin and black hair that was pulled into a tight chignon. She was wearing a smartly tailored skirt and jacket—also black—and a scarlet silk blouse open at the neck. Her shiny black leather pumps had heels that meant business and added another three inches to her height. Small, perfect pearls adorned her ears. Her eyes were impossibly blue.

“Hello,” Jane said tentatively. She was distracted by the aura of particles emanating from the woman. They were moving rapidly, as if agitated, and they were as scarlet as her blouse.

“You wouldn’t come to me, so I came to you,” the woman said, her pert red lips forming what would only very generously be called a smile. Something about her voice was vaguely familiar, but Jane was unable to place it. She was feeling slightly sick. Then it came to her.

“Jessica,” she said weakly.

Chapter 13

Jane was trying to have a conversation with Julia Baxter, but Jessica’s presence beside her was distracting. The editor was holding a glass of white wine (Of course she likes white wine, Jane thought) and talking animatedly about one of Julia’s previous films.

“And I thought what you did using the Laundromat as a symbol for Victoria’s need to wash away her sins was brilliant,” she said.

“How perceptive of you to notice that,” Julia said.

“I noticed that as well,” Jane said.

Julia and Jessica looked at Jane as if she were a child who had just interrupted the grown-ups.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Jane said as she used the opportunity to escape. She went outside and took a seat on one of the chairs on the deck. A moment later Cecilia Banks sat in the chair beside her.

“I just wanted to tell you how much I like your novel,” she said shyly.

“Thank you,” said Jane. “An author can never hear that too often.”

“I’m not saying that in the Hollywood way,” Cecilia said, smiling. “I actually did read it.”

Jane laughed. “I take it your co-stars haven’t?”

Cecilia shrugged. “I’ve found that most people in L.A. think of books as scripts with too many words,” she said.

Jane liked the young woman’s sense of humor. “And I find that most editors feel the same way,” she said.

“It must be wonderful being a writer,” said Cecilia.

“Not always,” Jane said. “But sometimes. When you’re working on something you love. I imagine being an actress is the same.”

“I thought so too,” said Cecilia. “Now I’m not so sure. I can’t say I love most of the things I’ve been in. But I think this will be different.”

Raucous laughter caught their attention, and they both looked across the yard. Chloe was talking to Tucker Mack, who had his arm around her waist.

“I understand this is her first film,” Jane remarked.

“Yes,” said Cecilia.

Jane looked at her. “You sound doubtful,” she said.

“Do I?” said Cecilia. She paused. “I suppose I am,” she admitted. “This afternoon we were talking about our favorite films and she said hers was Beverly Hills Chihuahua.”

Jane grimaced. “Really?” she said.

Cecilia nodded. “And that’s not the worst part,” she continued. “She said she couldn’t believe they’d taught the dogs to move their mouths like they were talking.”

“She didn’t,” Jane said, laughing.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was all done with computers,” said Cecilia.

“That was very kind of you,” Jane told her.

“I suppose,” said Cecilia. “I think underneath all that makeup there might be a nice girl.” She glanced at Chloe, who was nibbling Tucker Mack’s ear. “Maybe.”

“There you are.” Jessica’s voice was like ice water on Jane’s mood. “Let’s talk about your book.”

“We were,” Cecilia said. “I was telling Jane how much I like it.”

“Oh, that book,” said Jessica, pulling up a chair. “I don’t care about that one. I’m trying to pry a new one out of her. But she’s determined not to give me what I want.”

Cecilia raised an eyebrow, then looked at Jane. “I’m sure it will be wonderful,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I should go back to the hotel and study my lines for tomorrow.”

“You’re an actress?” Jessica said. “I never would have guessed.”

Jane was unsure how to take this remark, but she could tell Jessica meant it to be an insult. Cecilia, however, reacted with grace. “Given the usual opinion people have of actresses, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. She smiled at Jane. “Good night.”

“Good night,” said Jane. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“It was lovely meeting you too,” Cecilia replied, pointedly not addressing Jessica.

As Cecilia walked away Jessica said, “Now we can have an actual conversation. So, what are we going to do about this book of yours?”

“I’m working on it,” Jane lied.

“You’ve been ‘working on it’ for a long time,” said Jessica, using her fingers to put quotes around her words.

“A book isn’t a cake,” Jane said. “You can’t just throw a bunch of ingredients into a bowl, mix it up, and end up with something people want to eat.”

“That’s exactly what a book is,” said Jessica. “And that’s how you need to be thinking. It’s a good thing I decided to come up here. Clearly someone needs to put you on the right track.”

“Is that why you came?” Jane asked. “To put me on the right track?”

“Only partly,” said Jessica. “I was also invited to this silly little conference that’s going on. Austen A Go-Go, I think it’s called. Have you heard about it?”

How clever she thinks she is, Jane thought. Suggesting I’m not important enough to know.

“Yes,” she said. “I recall someone mentioning it.”

“I normally don’t attend things like this,” Jessica informed her. “They’re almost always useless. Just a lot of people who want to be writers trying to get you to listen to their ridiculous ideas. But I thought it would be a good opportunity to see you as well.”

“How thoughtful,” Jane said.

“Yes,” Jessica agreed. “Did you know Jacqueline Susann’s editor used to sit with her in a hotel room and go over each page as she typed it?”

“Is that what we’re going to do?” asked Jane anxiously.

“If that’s what it takes,” said Jessica. She sighed. “If only you could write a book as good as Valley of the Dolls,” she said.

“I can only aspire to such heights,” Jane said. She wished Jessica would stop tormenting her, and she resented Kelly for inflicting the woman on her. “You know they are making a film out of my novel,” she added. “And it was a bestseller.”

“Not a thirty-million-copy bestseller,” Jessica countered. “That’s how many copies of Valley of the Dolls have been sold.”

“Over forty-five years,” said Jane. “That’s not even a million a year.”

“Which is still seven hundred and fifty thousand more than Constance has sold,”