GHOSTY McGHOSTWRITER MEETS THE WHACKED-OUT CHILD STAR, PT. 1

Our cast of characters:

• Me - the noble, attractive freelance ghostwriter
• Literary McAgent Jr. - the individual who packaged the project
• Editor McPublisher - the individual who shepherded the project through a major publishing house
• Child McStar - former star of stage and screen
• Spouse McStar - Child's ball & chain
• Manager McBlabbermouth - Child's representative

It starts like it always does, with a breathless call from Literary McAgent:

L. Mc: "You have time for a gig?  It's a good one.  You'll love it."

Me: "I always have time."  (And that's pretty much still true.  Unless there are extenuating circumstances -- a.k.a., super-shit money or a certifiably nutjob client -- I never turn down work.  Said work may suck ass, but a gig is a gig is a gig.)  "Who?"

L. Mc: "Child McStar."

Me: "Isn't she supposed to be henious?"  (This chick's rep was brutal.  Arrests, bankruptcy, appearances on embarrassing Where-Are-They-Now shows, porn flicks, the works.)

L. Mc: "She's in a good space right now."  (According to Literary, they were always in a good space right now.)

Me: "Fine.  I'll talk to her."

L. Mc: "Great.  Conference call at 1:00 with me, you, Child McStar, and Manager McBlabbermouth.  Call you then.  You're beautiful, babe.  Don't change."

One o'clock rolls around.  No call.  One-thirty rolls around.  Still no call.  Two o'clock, 2:30, 3:00, nothing, nothing, nothing. Finally, at 4:30 -- as in three-and-a-half fucking hours late -- ring, ring, ring.  It's Literary and Manager.  After introductions and half-assed apologies, Manager says, "Let me dial Child in.  Hold on."  One minute, two minutes, three minutes, four, five, six, then finally, manager clicks back on.  "She can't do it.  How's tomorrow at 9:00."

"In the morning?" I ask.

"No.  Night."

"Um, we can't do anything earlier?"

"No.  Child is more of a night person.  She likes to stay up until 5:00 AM playing video games, then she sleeps until dinner time."

Literary pipes up.  "That's great, babe.  We'll talk tomorrow."

I say, "Wait, I have dinner plans."

Literary says, "Cancel them.  Or bring your phone with you."

Manager says, "No, don't do that.  Let me see what I can do."

We set up a meeting for the following afternoon, and again, Child blows us off.  Two days later, same thing.  And then finally, a full week and two more blown-off calls later, I have my first magical meeting with Child McStar.

NEXT: In which we learn just how whacked Child McStar is.