Eddie looked up. “What are you talking about? I’m prettier than Jamie and Grace put together,” he teased.
“Besides, it’s nice to be able to act like friends without hearing how you’re about to leave your husband to become an Irish Latino.”
Mary started to laugh. “I was just thinking about Felicity losing out to Reese,” she said, which was code for
, maybe. “Reese will have the chance to make a dozen movies that matter. And she’ll do well.
Felicity will have to wait until she’s seventy-five and stealing scenes from people who are currently in diapers.”
“You get this from not having enough crazy fans who want us to be having an affair?” Eddie asked.
“Or is it that you’re stuck filming in the park for three months? The cold, cold park, full of gawkers, techs, and people from the Stargates.”
Mary made a face. “The Stargate people are my friends. They got me a zombie head,” she pointed out. “But seriously. I have another decade before I can get a role in a film that’s worth a damn.
And it’ll still probably go to Geena Davis or Stockard Channing.”
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