tiger_lily_5

Two Samurai, Chapter 2

Hollywood, CA
April 1989

Simon hung up the gray office phone, sighing again. Two months had passed since they'd first tried to reach Whitney, and they had still not had any luck. He spun to face Kevin.

"Can we give up on this yet?" He twirled the curly phone cord around his hand.

"No." Kevin hopped up so that he was sitting on the desk. "Call her back."

"Right now?"

"Yep."

Simon stifled an eye roll, hitting redial and putting the phone on speaker.

***********************

Whitney removed her studio headphones, listening as Anna's cell phone rang again. The tone echoed harshly, even in the foam-padded recording room.

"Do you think that's them again?" she asked.

"Probably," Anna laughed. "Do you want me to let it go to voicemail?"

"No... here, hand it to me. Two months is a bit ridiculous. I'll get them off your back." Whitney flashed a sly grin as the phone rang a second time, and took it from Anna's hand, pulling up its antenna and flipping it open. "Hello?"

"Hi, Anna, it's Kevin Costner."

Whitney paused, looking at Anna, who mouthed "Is it them?"

"Hey, Kevin. It's Whitney." She said his name almost flirtatiously. "How are you?" She tensed her shoulders, looking away from her publicist and trying to hide a smile. She'd expected his assistant, not him, and the whole situation was pretty amusing to her.

"I'm better now that I have you on the phone."

"Oh, is that so?" she teased.

"Mmm hmm. So, listen. I've got this script I'm looking at, and I'd really like to send it to you to see if you're interested. It's about this singer who needs to hire..."

Anna circled around to the other side of the room, watching Whitney's face as she listened to Kevin. "What happened to getting them off our backs?" she hissed.

Whitney covered the receiver before whispering to Anna. "I'm just having a little bit of fun with them." She uncovered the phone, speaking to Kevin again. "So you want me to do a song for your soundtrack, huh?" She rolled her eyes, moving one hand as though to symbolize that he wouldn't shut up.

"No, I don't. Well, actually, maybe I do. But that's not why I called," he replied.

A couple of seconds went by. "So... why do you keep calling, then?" Both women stifled laughter.

"I want you to be my co-star."

Whitney's eyes widened slightly, her grip tightening on the phone. That was something she'd never expected to hear. She hadn't done any acting since junior high, and never anything serious.

"What's he saying?" whispered Anna.

"Your...co-star?" Whitney echoed. Anna's jaw dropped.

"Yep."

"I... umm..." She swallowed before speaking again. "I don't know what to say." Her gaze drifted down to the knobs on the sound board.

"Then say you'll at least read the script and call me back." His voice was confident, which she had to admire. "I can send it out today, you'll get it tomorrow."

"Okay," she said softly. "I'll look at it." Her demeanor had softened considerably.

"Thanks, Whitney. Have a great afternoon."

She gave him her address then hung up the phone, exhaling and raising her eyebrows.

"What was that about? A starring role?!" Anna asked.

"Yeah, apparently. I'm shocked too. I'll bring you the script when I get it." She handed the phone back to Anna before returning to the recording booth.

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Kevin hung up the phone, grinning and hopping down from the desk.

Simon shook his head, smiling. "I can't believe it! I gotta hand it to you, Kevin. You should have just called her from the beginning. Did you hear how she got all quiet? I can just picture the look of surprise on her face. I bet you just made her day."

"She definitely just made mine," Kevin whispered under his breath.

*********************************

Santa Monica, CA
May 1989

Whitney opened the spiral-bound script for at least the hundredth time in the past three weeks, marking yet another section with highlighter. The storyline intrigued her, but some of it was outdated, and there was no way she was going to do any love scenes. Beyond that, though, she was interested, though slightly worried about her lack of acting experience. She'd been putting off calling Kevin, taking her time to make her decision. Setting the book down on the counter, she opened her fridge and was pouring herself a glass of milk when the phone rang. She walked the few steps over to where it was hanging on the wall.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Whitney."

Surely not, she thought to herself.

"Who is this?" She ran a toe idly across the cool tile of the kitchen floor.

"It's Kevin. Have you looked at the script?"

She froze. It really was him. "Hey. How did you get my home number?"

"I have my ways."

Whitney raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to be creeped out or flattered.

"Well, I did get your package. I've been really busy though, and haven't had time to read it," she lied, pushing some crumbs into a small pile near her toaster. The truth was that she hadn't come to a decision yet; she kept going back and forth about it.

"I understand. I'm going to give you my direct line, please call me after you've had a chance to look it over. I'd love to take you out for coffee and talk about it."

"Umm... alright. Sure. I will." Something in his tone of voice was making her smile.

"Sounds good. Take care, Whitney."

"Bye." She hung up the phone, staring at it for a few seconds before leaving the room.

************************

June 1989

Whitney picked up her living room phone, staring at the keypad, trying to work up the nerve to call Kevin. She'd put him off long enough, and needed to tell him that she'd decided not to do the movie, so that he could get someone else quickly. She and Anna had discussed the project from several different angles, and though they both thought it would be good to broaden her audience, she was booked pretty solid for the next couple of years. He hadn't mentioned a timeline, but she knew it was rude to keep him waiting.

She dialed the digits from the yellow Post-It in her hand, stretching out on the couch and crossing her socked feet. It was ringing. After several rings, his machine picked up. She contemplated hanging up, but decided not to, and dutifully waited for the beep.

"Hey Kevin, umm.. it's Whitney Houston. Listen, I read the script and I --"

"Hey Whitney." He picked up, interrupting her message, and sounding slightly out of breath. "You actually called."

"Oh... hi!" She felt suddenly nervous. "How are you?"

"That depends. Is this a good call or a bad call?"

"Well, I just... I don't think I'm right for this part." She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, and I really appreciate the offer, especially when you had nothing to go on." When he didn't reply, she continued speaking. "I don't have any experience and it's a big part, and plus I'm supposed to be touring for most of '90 and '91 so I don't think the timing would work out anyway."

"Hmmm."

"What?" Her gray cat jumped onto the sofa, and she ran one hand down her silky coat.

"I'm just trying to think of how to convince you that you are right for this."

Whitney tucked her legs under her, sitting up. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why me? You don't even know me. You definitely don't know if I can act."

"Truth? I honestly had no idea who you were until over the winter when I caught one of your videos. I thought you were confident, and beautiful, and extremely talented. I just couldn't stop watching you. Damn, that probably sounds creepy." He laughed softly.

Just a little. "No, it doesn't." She grinned, despite herself. So an A-list actor can't stop looking at me. There are worse things in the world. "I just don't think I'd be any good."

"What can I do to convince you otherwise? Will you meet me for dinner tonight?"

Whitney bit her bottom lip. "Actually I have a date tonight."

An awkward pause. "Ah, I see. Well, how about tomorrow night?" he asked.

She heard a female voice behind him, and heard him say something softly in reply. "Umm, sure, tomorrow should work," Whitney replied. "Are you talking to someone?"

"Yeah, my wife needs the phone. Listen, I'll give you a call tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. Good night." She hung up the phone, feeling a slight, strange pang of disappointment that he was married, then pushing the thought out of her head. She had a date to get ready for tonight.