What makes you laugh? I find all sorts of things funny, although they are rarely
jokes in the traditional sense. I can only remember one joke in fact - the one
about the inflatable headmaster at the inflatable school telling the inflatable
boy caught with a needle that not only has he has let the school down; worst of
all he’s let himself down. But the best fun is when people are being amusing
without knowing it.
In my past as a glossy magazine journalist I worked with some staggering
characters (sometimes literally if they’d been on the white wine and, as usual,
hadn’t eaten). One editor asked me in all seriousness if I knew the difference
between aristocratic legs and those of common people. Another had some good
party tips: champagne made your breath smell, canapés were to be avoided because
those that fell on the floor were put back on the trays and MTF men were to be
avoided at all costs (MTF = Must Touch Flesh). Oh, and Desserts was Stressed in
reverse. An assistant of mine once failed to show up to work because she was
testing different shades of white paint on the wall of her flat (why it couldn’t
wait for the weekend, I don’t know). Another person warned me of the perils of
cheap flight on aeroplanes: ‘In Economy you make Enemies, in Club you make
Comrades and First you make Friends’. Granted, at the moment, volcanic ash
clouds are making it difficult to put this to the test.
But it was the moment when someone in the office described in outraged tones her
boyfriend landing his helicopter in her parents’ orchard: "he blew all the
petals off the herbaceous border! Mummy was furious!" that I realised I just had
to use all this material. I worked some of it into my first novel, SIMPLY DIVINE, but the
theme of the hilarity endemic to the glamorous lifestyle has remained a constant
in all of my novels. And never more so than BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE, which
takes a long, amused look at celebrity and the film industry. Here’s a little
taste of what you can expect:
The doors flew back, and in, rather to everyone’s amazement, came Belle
Murphy, her lavishly lipsticked mouth stretched in a dazzling smile the width of
a watermelon.
"Hi guys!" she trilled. The guys waited for a reference to her lateness,
followed by an apology. They were disappointed on both counts.
Belle looked, Mitch thought, not only smaller than she appeared on screen-every
star looked like that-but even smaller than when he had seen her last. Clearly
her relationship with food had got that bit more distant in the meantime. For
all the movement and vitality of her presence-the shining hair, the flashing
sunglasses, the exposed and prominent rounded domes of her breasts rearing
beneath a necklace of very big diamonds-Belle’s body, Mitch estimated, as about
the width and thickness of a copy of Vogue. And not a Christmas issue, either.
She looked pretty good, all the same. He noted with relief her clinging grey
silk dress with plunging neckline, black high heels, enormous black sunglasses,
and the way her cascade of white-blonde hair pushed back from her face and
poured over her shoulders as far as her elbows. She was working the high-octane
glamour look, as she should be. She was doing that bit right at least.
He shot a timid yet triumphant look at Arlington. Surely even Hollywood’s
chillest lizard, however angry, couldn’t be immune to such a tasty piece of ass
as this. He took heart when he saw that Arlington was apparently staring at
Belle’s breasts.
Arlington was, however, looking at the bag Belle had under her arm. It was huge,
heavy with gilt and buckles, and almost as big as she was. He recognised the
type without enthusiasm. His fifth wife had had one in every colour. They cost a
minimum of two thousand dollars a pop. What was even less appealing to Arlington
was the presence in one corner of the bag of a small, brown dog with a very big
diamond collar.
It was one of those trembly, skinny, yappy ones, Arlington saw with dislike. It
looked restlessly about with enormous and very prominent black eyes. They held a
ruthless expression, a look that clearly warned it might go for the throat at
any minute. Arlington recognised the expression; it was one he often used
himself in business meetings.
Mitch’s expression, meanwhile, was one of abject misery. That Arlington
Shorthouse disliked dogs was common knowledge in Hollywood. NBS was the only
studio that never put out movies with dogs in them, which were the sort that
more or less kept all the other studios afloat.
"Darling!" breathed Belle in her trademark little-girl voice. Holding out her
arms, she staggered across the carpet in her high heels towards the burr-walnut
desk. "Arl! May I call you that, for short?"
The sound now filled the room of four strangled, horrified coughs. Four minds
reverberated with one single thought. She had called him Arl, Mitch realised,
cringing. No one called Arlington anything for short. No one ever said "short,"
and she had done that too. "Short" was not a word that was ever breathed in
Arlington’s presence.
Mitch, who knew how the studio head also loathed unscheduled physical
interaction, now watched in horror as Belle seized Arlington’s neck with a white
hand on which a huge diamond ring glittered. "Mwah! Mwah!" Arlington gasped with
pain as her razor cheekbones banged against his smooth and elastic cheeks.
It crossed the screeching, veering chaos of Mitch’s mind that Belle might be
drunk.
Belle, having smeared Arlington’s tanned cheeks with red lipstick, now stood
unsteadily erect in her five-inch stilettos. She held up the bag with the dog
in.
"Gentlemen," she pouted breathily, batting her wide, blue eyes behind her
sunglasses.
"I’d like you all to meet Sugar. It’s Sugar’s fault we’re a tiny weeny bit late.
I had to take him to the dog beautician for a manicure."
The men in the room stared dumbly. Each and every one of them was familiar with
star behaviour. But this woman wasn’t even a star anymore. Mitch stared at the
floor, wishing it would not only swallow him up but also mash him to a pulp. He
felt he didn’t want to live anymore.
"There you go, precious,"Belle crooned to the dog as she put him on the floor.
"You go run about, sweetie." As Sugar immediately shot beneath Arlington’s desk,
Belle beamed at the studio head. "See, look. He likes you."
"I don’t like him," Arlington said ominously.
Belle’s megawatt grin abruptly disappeared. Her big mouth, which was painted
shiny and red, bunched disapprovingly, and her darkened eyebrows snapped angrily
together. "How can you say that? Sugar’s so sensitive. So easily hurt, poor
baby." She bent under Arlington’s desk and cooed some endearments. At least he
gets to see her tits now, Mitch thought.
"Look, shall we get on with the business?" asked Bob Ricardo, looking at his
boss and drumming his calculator with his fingers.
Arlington flexed his stubby hands and stared at his neatly clipped nails. "Look,
baby. So you were huge last year. But a year’s a long time in showbiz. You’re
losing it, and there are plenty of other girls out there just dying to take your
place. Bob?"
"Basically, the bottom line is this. Bloody Mary cost two-hundred
and-fifty-million dollars to make, and so far it’s grossed thirty."
"Thirty million?" Belle beamed. "Hey, it’s only been out two weeks. Thirty
million’s pretty good."
Bob shook his bony, crop-haired head. "Not thirty million dollars. Thirty
dollars. Three-oh."
Mitch gasped. He’d no idea it was this bad. This was historic.
"Thirty?" croaked Belle.
"Thirty," confirmed Bob in his grating tones.
"Thirty dollars! But that’s impossible!" Belle shouted."No one’s ever
made..."-—she screwed up her mouth to spit out the words- "thirty freaking
dollars on a two-hundred-fifty-million-dollar picture! It’s impossible, right?"
"Wrong," Bob said with relish, his lean fingers gently tapping the white surface
of his balance book. "Sure, it’s made a few million, but when you take away the
taxes, the costs, and so on, well..."” He pulled a face. "Thirty’s what you’re
left with. Which means," he frowned and tapped the large buttons of his
calculator, "a deficit of two hundred forty-nine million, nine hundred
ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and seventy dollars."
Even though he had heard it before, the figure hit him just as hard as it had
the first time, right bang slap in the balls. Arlington closed his watering eyes
and swallowed. Forget calling this a turkey. It was an outbreak of swine flu. An
epidemic of H1N1 right through their balance sheet.
The extent of the damage was still, in fact, coming in. There was some confusion
over whether Bloody Mary had been number six or number nine in Moldovia. "It’s
the right number, all right," their contact there had reported. "Right now,
we’re just establishing what way up it is."
"You got your sums wrong!" Belle gasped, breasts heaving up and down agitatedly.
"The critics said my acting was great!"
Arlington pursed his lips. "No one gives a gnat’s snatch about the acting."
From under Arlington’s desk, the dog growled. "I always said we should make a
sequel to Marie," Belle declared passionately. "But no one would listen to me."
She thumped a skinny fist heavy with diamonds so hard against the prominent
bones of her upper chest that it seemed to Mitch that she might snap them.
"We couldn’t do a sequel," Michael J. Seltzer said shortly. "She got her head
chopped off in the last one."
Belle glared indignantly at Seltzer. "We should have done Anne Boleyn instead.
Or Elizabeth...whatever number she was. The one in the big ruffs. Or Henry the
whatever. You know, that powercrazed psycho with the six wives." Belle rolled
her eyes. "Six wives! How normal was he?"
The six-times-married Arlington looked predictably thunderous at this. The folly
of Bloody Mary struck him anew. Burning desire. What the hell had the studio
been thinking of to use that as the film’s catchline?
Or, to be precise, Arlington thought, eyes slitting as he looked at his Creative
Head, what had Michael been thinking of? It had been his idea to make the film
in the first place; to make it, moreover, not straight and historical, but sex
it up, make it like some sixteenth century Catholic Playboy Mansion, with Philip
of Spain running around pleasuring everyone from the lady’s maids to the spit
boy. He had even pushed for an alternative title, Burn, Baby, Burn, on the
grounds that it was more commercial. It had been his decision to take out all
the Protestant-versus-Catholic elements on the grounds it might offend people,
meaning that nothing made any sense and the executions looked gratuitous.
Belle’s sunglasses, which she had now replaced, flashed defiantly. "Anyway,
Bloody Mary did very well in the Ukraine."
"Only because they thought it was about alcohol," replied Bob wearily.
Arlington slid another look at his watch. Shit. He had another fifty meetings
scheduled today. This was taking far too long. He looked meaningfully at his
head of PR.
Chase McGiven cleared his throat. He sat with one ankle raised to his knee, on
which balanced a blue plastic folder he tapped restively with a fountain pen.
"Miss Murphy. We’ve been doing some, ahem, qualitative personality
research..."-he tapped the folder harder-"which I have right here."
"Some what?" Belle snapped rudely.
"Qualitative personality research is qualitative research concerning a
personality," Chase informed Belle. "See what they think of you, in other
words."
"Was this really necessary?" Mitch interjected, feeling he should say something,
anything, to remind them all he was still here.
Chase ignored him. "According to our research, and, of course, this is confirmed
by the figures from Bloody Mary, your popularity is, how can I put this?" He
looked thoughtfully at Belle.
"Huge?" prompted Belle.
"Slipping," said Chase.
"Are you sure?" Mitch interjected desperately.
Chase leant back in his chair and put his arms behind his head.
"Her popularity’s at rock bottom."
"Like the takings," interjected Bob, with relish.
The dog began to yap under Arlington’s desk.
"C’mon, Belle. You know it’s true." Chase leant forward.
"People are dropping you from projects left, right, and centre. No film will
touch you at the moment. You’ve lost your cosmetics contract, the perfume launch
has been decommissioned, and you’re not even being considered for that Disney
animation about a worm with issues any more. The part’s gone to Scarlett
Johansson."
Mitch’s breakfast came shooting back up his windpipe in a sudden and unexpected
manner. He pulled an apologetic face as Belle ripped off her sunglasses and
whipped round to meet his eyes with blazing balls of blue fire.
"I was gonna tell you," Mitch murmured unhappily.
Chase ploughed on. "Specifically, what our qualitative personality research
tells us is that your recent behaviour has played badly with the fans. You’ve
misread the zeitgeist."
"I’ve never read the zeitgeist," Belle blustered.
Chase stared at her with such a bewildered expression on his face that Mitch
almost felt sorry for him. He had clearly underestimated the scale of the task
before him, but then, who hadn’t?
"People don’t want stars like that anymore," the studio PR continued. "Drunken,
wild, dressed like hookers..."”
"Hey," interjected Belle indignantly. "It takes a lot of money to look that
cheap."
"You gotta calm down," Chase advised. "Get some respect from somewhere. Get
yourself some gravitas."
"What sort of ass?"
Mitch wiped the napkin from this morning’s purchase of jelly doughnuts over his
perspiring brow. He felt a slight tightness form in the wake of the wipe; sugar
crystals, he realised too late. He had frosted his own forehead. "What Chase
means," he said to Belle, "is that you need people to take you more seriously."
Belle nodded sarcastically. "Whaddya want me to do, go play Hamlet at the Royal
Freaking Shakespeare Company? Huh?"
"Shakespeare. It’s a thought," Arlington admitted.
Belle gasped in angry disbelief. But Chase interrupted.
"Fans these days..." he continued smoothly, "want stars they can respect. Caring
stars, loving stars. People who care about the big issues. Global poverty.
Families. The environment."
Belle stared at him disbelievingly. "I’m a celebrity. I’m not running for
president."
Chase grinned wolfishly. "Belle, let me tell you, you know what you are. Sort
of. People expect their stars to have issues these days. Consciences. Just look
around. There’s Angelina and Brad there with their rainbow family, Madonna and
that little African guy, Clooney and Darfur, Gwyneth Paltrow and, uh, her
macrobiotic yoga..."
Belle’s shiny red lips were twisted in a scornful sneer. "So what are you
saying? That you want me to-she snorted with disgust- "adopt..."-her eyes rolled
incredulously, and she tossed her white hair-"an African baby?"
There was a dead silence.
Arlington’s eyes burned, and his mouth rushed with water. His groin felt
suddenly tight, as in moments of extreme sexual excitement. This was the answer.
The idea they had been looking for. If anything could turn round Belle’s career
and reputation-and she was, after all, one of his most expensive stars-it was
this.
"That’s exactly what we want you to do, Belle," he said. "And if you don’t,
you’re dumped."
© Wendy Holden,
Sourcebooks Landmark, 2010
I hope you enjoy Beautiful
People and it turns out to be one of those things that make you laugh. But
I’d be interested to know what else does-tell me in the comments!
BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE by WENDY HOLDEN IN STORES
APRIL 2010!
A witty, utterly addictive novel from bestselling author Wendy Holden, Beautiful People is a tale
wicked in its observations yet buoyant at its heart: an irresistible confection
you’ll want to devour immediately.
Darcy-a struggling English rose actress when The Call comes from L.A. An
Oscar-tastic director. A movie to make her famous. The hunkiest costar in
Hollywood. So why doesn’t she want to go?
Belle-a size-zero film star but she’s in big, fat trouble. Hotter than the
earth’s core a year ago, she’s now Tinseltown toast after her last film bombed.
Can she get back to the big time?
Emma-a down-to-earth, down-on-her-luck nanny trying to weather London’s
cutthroat childcare scene and celebrity mom whirlwinds. What will it take for
her to get back in control of her own life?
Jet to London, Hollywood, and Italy; toss in a passionate star chef, a
kindhearted paparazzo, and a reluctant male supermodel; and find Wendy Holden at
her best-a smash international hit.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wendy Holden (U.K.)
was a journalist on The Sunday Times, Tatler and The Mail on
Sunday before becoming a full time author. She has now published nine
novels, all top 10 bestsellers in the UK, and is married with two young
children. Her novels include <
ahref="http://freshfiction.com/book.php?id=38311">FARM FATALE (in US Stores
from Sourcebooks Landmark in July 2010), BAD HEIR DAY (also coming
to US stores from Sourcebooks Landmark in September 2010), SIMPLY DIVINE, GOSSIP HOUND, THE WIVES OF BATH,
THE SCHOOL FOR HUSBANDS,
AZUR LIKE IT, and
FILTHY RICH. For more
information, please visit http://wendyholden.net/.
32 comments posted.
I have a varied taste in humor. I like everything from wry British humor to slapstick.
(Marlene Breakfield 1:18am April 21, 2010)
I love humor, just sometimes it might take a little bit for me to realize that something was really funny.
(Joanne Reynolds 6:29am April 21, 2010)
Humor is part of making it in this great world. Humor goies hand in hand with all emotions. Thank you for the laugh.
(Cynthia Plaza-Harney 8:41am April 21, 2010)
My husband says I have no sense of Humor, But thats not true. lol I just don't find the same things funny. I laugh when I'm talking on the phone with friends or having lunch with them. I don't laugh at jokes really. Just laugh when I'm having a good time.
(Christine Hirth 10:14am April 21, 2010)
I like physical comedy that you see in many of the classic comedies. As long as it's silly and fun I'll laugh.
(Leni Kaye 12:34pm April 21, 2010)
I love humor in books--just like in real life. Your book sounds great. Thanks for visiting.
(G S Moch 1:35pm April 21, 2010)
I find that I have a dry sense of humor. I do like some slapstick if it is done well and believe that laughter will extend your life.
(Cindy Olp 1:37pm April 21, 2010)
I enjoy reading about humorous situations in books., especially when the character can laugh at themselves. However, I don't like "humor" that is at another persons' expense.
Your book sound delightful to read. Thanks for telling us about it.
(Robin McKay 1:44pm April 21, 2010)
The book looks awesome. Can't wait to read it. Thanks for the laughes today. It was a hard day as the spouse of a friend passed away unexpectently this morning.
(Joelle Beebe 4:57pm April 21, 2010)
I can't wait for this book. My husband says I am the only one that thinks I am funny,and I am funny all the time. I can find humor in anything. I would rather laugh than cry.
(Tonya Atchley 5:32pm April 21, 2010)
Love Groaners - you know, it's really a joke or play on words, but many people don't get it! When you can see the punch line from a mile away the joke can become a yawner! Or, to make a short story long - your Belle is wonderfully dumb!
(Karin Tillotson 7:45pm April 21, 2010)
Love the playful arguing and the give and oh so heavy taking that covers the dilemmas. My mouth hurts from smiling so hard.
(Alyson Widen 8:10pm April 21, 2010)
That certainly sounds like an interesting book. Maybe a bit close to reality for some celebs..
(Vikki Parman 8:22pm April 21, 2010)
I have always enjoy book with humor in them. I definitely picking up a copy of this book.
(Kai Wong 8:27pm April 21, 2010)
My sense of humor is varied from the really stupid stuff like the etrade baby comercials or the macabra.
(Brandy Blake 10:27pm April 21, 2010)
Hmmmm... I've always been a fan of dry wit and sarcastic humor in books and movies. You know, the comments that 30 percent of the people get right away, 40 percent get a few seconds to a minute later, and 10-15 percent never get at all even if you explain it to him. I love PUNS and humor based on what we know... like name humor. Good example, I'm showing photos in an art gallery exhibit next month titled "Little Shop of Flowers" where the theme is oddball or strange floral shots (a humoristic take on Little Shop of Horrors).
(Donna Holmberg 10:39pm April 21, 2010)
I Love humor in romance books & movies. Sandra Hill Books always make me laugh. when i'm feeling depressed i always pick up one of her books. i dont care if i have read it a million times. Hugh Grant always makes me laugh so of coure i pick one of his movies.
(April Kirby 2:26am April 22, 2010)
My kids make me laugh... some of the things that teenage girls come up with is a riot!!!
(Brandy Blake 1:35pm April 22, 2010)
I LOVE LAUGHING WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND THE MORE WE LAUGH THE EASER IT IS TO FIND FUNNY THINGS, i HAVE ONE DEAR FRIEND THAT WE LAUGH AT ALL KINDS OF STUPID THINGS BUT SHE IS THE PERSON THAT I LIVE TO SPEND TIME WITH THE MOST.
(Vickie Hightower 1:36pm April 22, 2010)
I really enjoy books that make me laugh out loud -- bunbling heroes and/or heroines. I also love to laugh with family and friends.
(Cathy Phillips 5:30pm April 22, 2010)
My wonderful grandchildren makes me laugh. You never know what children will say next and it what context. Thank you for this great contest!
(Cilfton Wade 8:17pm April 23, 2010)
Hmm, certainly my type of humor, which depends mostly on the use of language to show something strange or funny, rather than pratfalls and other slapstick humor. I've never found much humor in the latter.
(Sigrun Schulz 1:35am April 24, 2010)