Susan Phillips: What I Did for Love

Bram had no reason to hate her. She’d been the good soldier while he’d single-handedly ruined one of the best sitcoms in television history. During the first two years of Skip and Scooter, he’d only occasionally misbehaved, but as the years passed, he’d grown more uncontrollable, and by the time Skip and Scooter’s on-screen relationship had begun to turn romantic, he cared about nothing but having a good time. He spent money as fast as he earned it on fancy cars, a designer wardrobe, and supporting an army of hangers-on from his childhood. The cast didn’t know from one day to the next whether he’d show up on the set drunk or sober, whether he’d show up at all. He totaled cars, trashed dance clubs, and shrugged off any attempts to curb his recklessness. Nothing was safe from him, not women, reputations, or a crew member’s drug stash.

If he’d been playing a darker character, the show might have survived the sex tape that had surfaced at the end of season eight, but Bram played buttoned-down, good guy Skip Scofield, youthful heir to the Scofield fortune, and even the most loyal fans were outraged by what they saw. Skip and Scooter was canceled a few weeks later, earning him the wrath of the public and the hatred of everyone connected with the show.

Their meal dragged on until Georgie couldn’t bear it. She set down her fork next to her dismantled, uneaten crab cake, studied her watch, and tried to look as if Christmas Day had unfortunately come to an end. “Aw…Too bad. I have to go.”

Bram speared the final bite of his ravioli and thrust his fork in her mouth. “Not so fast. You can’t leave Ivy without having dessert.”

“Don’t you dare prolong this farce.”

“Careful. You’re losing your happy face.”

She choked down the ravioli and pasted her smile back on. “You’re broke, aren’t you? My father invested my money, but you squandered yours. That’s why you’re doing this. No one will give you a job because you’re unreliable, and you need publicity to get back on your feet.” Although Bram still worked, he only got minor parts these days, playing morally weak characters-a cheating husband, a lecherous drunk-not even meaty villains. “You’re so desperate you have to piggyback off my press coverage.”

“You’ve got to admit it’s working. Skip and Scooter together again.” He lifted his hand for their server, who hurried over. “We’ll have the pecan shortcake with hot fudge sauce. Two spoons.”

When the server was gone, she leaned forward and dropped her voice even lower. “How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. I hate thee for making my childhood miserable…”

“You were fifteen when the series started. Not exactly a kid.”

“But Scooter was only fourteen, and I was naïve.”

“I’ll say.”

“I hate you for embarrassing me in front of the cast, the crew, the press, in front of everybody -with your stupid practical jokes.”

“Who knew you’d keep falling for them?”

“I hate you for all the hours I spent sitting around the set waiting for you.”

“Unprofessional, I’ll admit. But you kept your nose buried in books, so you should thank me for your superior education.”

“And for your sleazeball behavior that got us canceled and cost me millions.”

“You? What about the millions I cost myself?”

“At least I can feel good about that.”

“Okay, my turn…” His smile had a silky edge. “You were a stuck-up little prude, sweetheart, and a big-time tattletale. Whenever you had the tiniest gripe, you made sure Daddy Paul ran to the producers and raised a stink. His little princess had to have everything her way.”

Her mouth remained curled, but her eyes flashed outrage. “That is so not true.”

“And you were a selfish actor. You always had to stick to the script, no room for improvisation. It was suffocating.” He chucked her under the chin again.

She kicked him hard on the inside of his calf where no one could see. He winced, and she patted his hand. “You only wanted to improvise because you didn’t have your lines memorized.”

“Whenever I tried to push the show out of its comfort zone, you sabotaged me.”

“Disagreement isn’t sabotage.”

“You trashed me in the press.”

“Only after your sex tape!”

“Some sex tape. I had my clothes on.”

“She didn’t!” Georgie reinforced her own slipping smile. “Say what you really mean. You hated that I made more money than you and that I had more star power.”

“Oh, yes. How could I forget your memorable turn on Broadway as Annie ?”

“While you were ditching school and hanging out on street corners.” She propped her chin on the back of her hand. “Did you ever get that high school diploma?”

“Well, well…Isn’t this interesting?”

They’d been so absorbed in their argument, they hadn’t noticed the tall, cool blonde approaching their table. Rory Keene, with her classic French twist and long, patrician features, looked more like an East Coast socialite than a powerful studio executive, but even during her single season as a lowly production assistant on Skip and Scooter, she’d been a little intimidating.

Bram shot to his feet and planted a cool kiss on her cheek. “Rory, it’s great to see you. You look beautiful, as always. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

“Very much. I can’t believe the two of you are sitting at the same table without a loaded weapon.”

“Mine’s in my purse,” Georgie said with a Scooter grin.

Bram curled his hand around Georgie’s shoulder. “Water under the bridge. We made peace a long time ago.”

“Really?” Rory slipped her purse higher on her arm and gave Bram a long, hard stare. “Take care of Georgie. This town has a limited supply of nice people, and we can’t afford to lose one of them.” With a nod, she turned away and headed across the patio.

Bram’s smooth smile faded. He glared down at Georgie. “When did you and Rory get to be such good buddies?”

“We’re not.”

Without excusing himself, he headed across the patio after Rory.

Being with Bram was as draining as ever, and Georgie welcomed having a few minutes to recharge. The dessert arrived. Her stomach rebelled. She averted her eyes and thought about the day her father had given her the pilot script for Skip and Scooter . She’d had no idea her life was about to change forever.

The show’s silly premise had been perfect sitcom fare. Scooter Brown was a spunky fourteen-year-old orphan who showed up at the luxurious Scofield mansion on Chicago’s posh North Shore. Scooter was trying to stay out of foster care by locating a stepsister who’d once worked there, but the stepsister had long since disappeared. With no place to go, Scooter had hidden out at the mansion only to be discovered by stuffy, fifteen-year-old Skip, the heir to the Scofield fortune. He, along with the servants, became unwillingly involved in a plot to hide her from the Scofield adults.

No one had expected the show to last more than a season, but the cast had exceptional chemistry, and the show’s writing staff had come up with inventive plots. More important, they’d managed to deepen the core characters beyond their initial stereotypes.

Georgie gave Bram a vicious smile. “Finished sucking up to Rory?”

“I went out to buy cigarettes.”

“Sure you did.”

“To buy cigarettes and suck up. I like to multitask. Is our lunch from hell finally over?”

“Before it even began.”

Bram insisted on waiting inside with her until the valet brought her car. She braced herself, and, sure enough, as soon as they hit the sidewalk, the jackals surrounded them. Bram slipped a supposedly protective arm around her shoulders-she wanted to bite it off-held up his hand, and gave the cameras his dazzling smile. “Just a couple of old friends getting together for lunch,” he said over their shouts. “Don’t make anything more out of it.”