Chapter 7: Catherine Zeta-Jones
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This is Part 7 of an ongoing series. Yes I know the celebs don't act like this in real life, but this is a fantasy after all.
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The least fun part about being an agent out here in Hollywood is having to do damage control when some sort of bad press happens to one of your clients. They say that any news is good news, but I have to disagree. Sometimes a celebrity can do something so stupid that it damages their career for the rest of their life. That is of course, if you let it happen.
I was faced with one of those situations now and my mind was racing as I tried to grasp what to do. Sitting in front of me in tears was the beautiful Welsh actress, Catherine Zeta-Jones, who recently became Zeta-Jones Douglas after she married Michael Douglas. Catherine's makeup was running off of her cheeks onto her hands as she sobbed into them, and her dark black hair was in a total mess. Catherine wasn't even a client of the firm. She was represented by a competing agent here in town, Bill Garrett. What had brought her to me had to do with her husband, who WAS a client of my firm.
Staring at the television set on the corner of my desk, I hit rewind and play again. What I was watching was definitely bad news. Recorded from inside of the couples home, the surveillance camera (installed to keep out paparazzi and thieves) clearly showed Micheal Douglas having sex with a girl who was obviously not his wife. She appeared to be a hooker; someone Micheal had picked up off the streets here in Hollywood and taken back to the house while Catherine was away doing an interview in New York City, Catherine later said. What was so disconcerting about the tape came right at the part I kept rewinding over and over. Micheal and the prostitute were talking and the camera managed to pick up most of their conversation. In the course of the talk, you can clearly hear the hooker say that she is 14. Though the tape only shows the back of his head, you can tell Micheal looks a little shocked at first, but then he lunged at the girl again and they begin having sex again. That's where the tape stops. Statutory rape. With a girl who is 14. And a hooker. And the John is a world famous actor and celebrity. This was not going to be a good day.
Between sobs, Catherine began to speak to me for the first time since she walked in the office and explained the tape.
"Is there anything we can do?" she said, wiping her left eye.
Reclining in my chair and pondering the problem, I think.
"How many people have a copy of this tape? Who else has seen it?"
"Well, the tapes get put into storage by the cleaning staff every night. They normally watch to see if there is anything suspicious happening on the tapes and then they just rewind and recycle them for some other night," Catherine said. "The staff were the ones who first showed it to me. They promised me they didn't make any copies of the tape, but just to be on the safe side I paid them each $10,000 to stay quiet. So as far as I know, that's the only tape,"
"Well, then the problem is simple to solve," I said. Reaching into the VCR, I pull out the tape. Breaking off the plastic in the back, I begin yanking out the tape and destroying it. Within a few minutes the entire tape is out of the case and I run it through the paper shredder underneath my desk. Catherine sat motionless through all this, a look of contentment at the cause of so much grief being absolved.
"There we go. And thank God too. With the Oscars coming up, Micheal wouldn't need this sort of thing happening. You did the right thing Catherine," I said, smiling at her "Now you oughta go home and take care of your baby."
Fidgeting in the chair, Catherine looked a little uneasy and more than a little distant, lost in her own thoughts.
"Catherine?" I said, trying to wake her from the daze she was in.
"I think you need to come over tonight. There is a little bit more to this than what you just saw," she said, with a dreamy like look on her face.
"Alright. Give directions to my secretary Julie and I will be over there around 8 or so," I said.
Catherine left my office and I spent the rest of the afternoon pondering what she meant by "a little more".
