SEVEN
On Thursday, 18th of March, Maxine got a call that she knew was coming. The caller was a woman called Tammy Lauper, who ran the International Todd Pickett Appreciation Society, which despite its high falutin’ title had its headquarters, Maxine knew, in the Laupers’ house in Sacramento. Tammy was calling to ask a very simple question, one that she said she was ‘passing on’ to Maxine from millions of Todd’s fans worldwide: Where was Todd?
Maxine had dealt with Tammy on many occasions in the past, though if she possibly could she ducked the calls and let Sawyer deal with them. The trouble was that Tammy Lauper was an obsessive, and though in the eight years she’d been running the ‘Appreciation Society’ — (she’d once said to Maxine she hated to hear it called a fan club. ‘I’m not an hysterical teenager,’ she’d said. This was true: Tammy Lauper was married, childless, and, when last spotted, an overweight woman in her middle thirties) — though in that time she’d done a great deal to support Todd’s movies, and could on occasion be a useful disseminator of deliberately erroneous information, she was not somebody Maxine had much time for. The woman annoyed her, with her perpetual questions about trivia, and her unspoken assumption that somehow Todd belonged to her. When she was obliged to speak to the Lauper woman — because there was some delicate matter in the air, and she needed to carefully modulate the flow of news — she always aimed to keep the exchanges brief. As courteous as possible — Tammy could be prickly if she didn’t feel as though she was being given her due — but brief.
Today, however, Tammy wasn’t about to be quickly satisfied; she was like a terrier with a rat. Every time Maxine thought she’d satisfied the woman’s curiosity, back she’d come with another enquiry.
“Something’s wrong,” she kept saying. “Todd’s not been seen by anyone. Usually when he goes away, members of the Society spot him, and they report to me. But I haven’t heard one word. Something’s wrong. Because I always hear.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“So what’s going on? You’ve got to tell me.”
“Why should anything be going on?” Maxine said, doing her best to maintain her equilibrium. “Todd’s tired and he needs a break, so he went away for a few weeks.”
“Out of state?”
“Yes. Out of state.”
“Out of the country?”
“I’m afraid he asked me not to say.”
“Because we’ve got members all over the world.”
“I realize that, but — ”
“When he went on his honeymoon to Morocco,” Tammy went on, “I had six reports of sightings.” (This was a reference to the event which had caused Maxine more publicity problems than any other in Todd’s life: his short-lived marriage to the exquisitely emaciated model Avril Fox, which had been strewn with potentially image-besmirching scenes: adulteries, a couple of ménage-à-trois involving Avril’s sister, Lucy, and a spot of domestic violence).
“Sometimes,” Maxine said, a trace of condescension creeping into her voice now, “Todd likes to be out in public. Sometimes he doesn’t”.
“And right now?”
“He doesn’t.”
“But why would he mind being seen?” Tammy went on. “If there’s nothing wrong with him … ”
Maxine hesitated, wondering how best to calm the suspicions she was clearly arousing. She couldn’t just make an excuse and jump off the phone; that would make the Lauper woman even more curious than she already was. She had to maneuver the conversation away from this dangerous area as carefully as possible.
“I’ll tell you why,” she said, dropping her voice a little, as though she was about to share something of real significance with Tammy. “He’s got a secret project in the works.”
“Oh?” Tammy said. She didn’t sound persuaded. “This isn’t Warrior, is it? I read that script, and — ”
“No, it isn’t Warrior. It’s a very personal piece, which Todd is writing himself.”
“He’s writing it? Todd is writing something? He said in an interview with People last July he hated writing. It was too much like hard work.”
“Well, I lied a little,” Maxine said. “He’s not doing the actual writing. He’s working with somebody on the project. A very well-respected screenwriter, actually. But he’s pouring out his heart, so it’ll be a very personal project.” There was a silence. Maxine waited. Had Tammy taken the bait or not?