The First Assistant (28 page)

I took a deep breath and tried to remember how happy I was to be independent and not the appendage of a rich and powerful man. I was absolutely thrilled. Being single was exciting with a surprise around

every corner. I could do whatever I wanted in the evenings now. I didn’t have to pick up his socks, which he somehow could never manage to get into the laundry basket. I was certainly more focused on my career than I had been in ages. And I could have uncomplicated one-afternoon stands like the one Jason and I had shared the other day. Life was brim-ming with possibility. So I picked up the phone and dialed Jason’s cell phone instead. He’d gone to USC. He must have taken a class in how to outsmart a devious rodent.

“Hi, Jason, it’s me.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “It’s Lizzie!” I said a bit mortified to have taken my place in his life so for granted. Yes, we’d had sex, but I knew better than to think that actually meant anything in this town, even to one of my best friends.

“Oh, hi, sweetheart. I was just thinking about you,” he said.

I sighed with relief. Maybe I wasn’t being presumptuous, after all. “Were you really?” I asked in my best surprised, God-yes-I’d-almost—

forgotten-we’d-slept-together voice.

“Sure was, baby. I need a suit or a tux for the Golden Globes, and since you’re the producer, I thought you could find a stylist for me.”

“A stylist?” I probably shouldn’t have sounded so horrified, but it just popped out before I could rein in my tongue. How was I supposed to lust after a guy who wanted his cufflinks to match his underwear? The next step was having his balls waxed.

“Yeah... Is that a problem?” Jason asked in a tone that reminded me just how fragile his ego was. I back-tracked as quickly and delicately as possible.

“No. No problem at all, Jase. Of course you need a stylist. I just”—I was desperately trying to dig myself out of the hole—“totally forgot that you were going to the Globes.” Actually, I hadn’t forgotten at all. Quite the opposite.
Sex Addicts in Love
was the talk of The Agency. The talk of the town, even, and everyone at work was treating me with a bizarre mixture of deference and irritation as word spread that I was the producer. With the increased marketing spend and awards push, even box-office receipts were picking up, and it looked in danger of making money, too. Even though none of it was earmarked to me. I was actually getting the occasional excited phone call from college friends back home saying they’d seen my name on the big screen.

“Listen, Lizzie, you know I’m really sorry not to have a ticket for you,” Jason said feebly. “But since I was nominated as best director and not for best picture, they only gave me the one extra ticket. And you know I would have totally taken you as my date if we’d been, you know, together at the time. But I already asked my mom and she’s so excited.”

Jason was really a sweetheart, after all. I gave myself a mental smack on the hand. It was unfair of me to pass judgment just because the guy wanted a professional to dress him for one of the biggest nights of his life. He obviously just wanted to look good for his mommy.

“And between you and me, I do think it’s kind of good for my image to take her, don’t you? Remember when Ben Affleck and Matt Damon took their moms? The press lapped it up.” Why did everyone in Hollywood always have to have an ulterior motive? I wondered. Apart from Luke, of course. I breathed a silent sigh.

“Jase, you’re not wrong. Unless you can persuade Julia Roberts or Lindsay Lohan to walk you down the red carpet, your mom is probably the best person to take. Anyway, she deserves it. She’s had to put up with you for thirty years,” I said.

Jason laughed appreciatively.

“You okay, babes? You sound kind of blue,” he said with the perfect amount of worry and genuine interest. Somehow Jason’s concern was all I needed to feel the burden lift ever so slightly from my shoulders.

“I’ll survive,” I said. “Can we get together soon and discuss that new movie idea we were talking about the other day? I’d love to sink my teeth into another project.”

“Sure thing,” Jason promised. “Just as soon as I’m done being feted.” He laughed.

Los Angeles could be a lonely place and since my breakup with Luke I’d been feeling it acutely. I had made the classic error of moving in with my boyfriend and then not having the energy or the inclination to keep up with newfound friends. It was just so much easier to drift around together in our own little bubble and forget that the rest of the world existed. I’d only been living in LA for a year when we’d moved in together, so I’d slotted neatly into his network of friends and acquaintances. But now that it was over, I didn’t somehow feel comfortable calling his friends. They’d all been lovely, but I didn’t really know them well enough

to ring them up on a Saturday and say “Hey want to go catch a matinee?” So it was nice to have Jason back in my life as a friend or a lover. To be honest, it didn’t make much of a difference to me which it was. Though it was fun to fantasize about a life together, at the moment, I was just happy to have someone to talk to every night before I went to sleep.

I quickly looked around to make sure Amber hadn’t slithered back in while I wasn’t looking. I whispered into the phone to Jason, “Listen. Amber, Scott’s Second Assistant, usurped my position while I was away, and now she’s trying to get me fired. What should I do?”

“Baby, you should quit!” he said easily.

Quit? Was he on acid? I’d just spent all the money I’d saved in Thailand on a deposit and first and last months’ rent for a much-too-expensive lit-tle one-bedroom bungalow in Venice.

“That’s not an option,” I said categorically.

“Why? You can move into the Bluebird house with me. I put a bid in, by the way. You know even if nothing happens between us, I love hav-ing you around.”

Though this was a very sweet and generous offer, it made me want to
scream.
A mere eighteen months ago, Jason had been debating the mer-its of a soy latte versus a skinny latte as he tried not to dirty his brown apron at the Coffee Bean. I was consumed with pure old-fashioned jealousy as he tossed around the idea of a five-million-dollar house while I struggled to pay fifteen hundred dollars a month in rent. How could he forget so quickly how important even my little unimportant job was to me? I tamed the green-eyed monster and forged ahead.

“Jason, I need my job. And an apartment. I made that mistake once, you know? No more moving in with anyone. Anyway, I love living alone. Or at least I will once I move. So, any ideas?”

“I know, I know. You’re an independent woman. I promise never to offer you a free ride again. But you know if you did move in, you could pay me in services if that made you feel any better.”

I started to laugh as Amber walked in. I noticed she was carrying three Barney’s bags.

“Okay. Great. I’ll give Scott the message.” I quickly hung up on Jason as I didn’t want to give Amber any added ammunition.

“Talking to your friends again on company time, Lizzie?” Amber said with a smile. I was immediately seized with guilt. God I hated her.

“Actually, Amber, it was a work call. Daniel Rosen has been calling Jason Blum trying to poach him from The Agency.” I lied through my teeth. “And of course Scott is very interested in anything I can do to help him keep clients.” That shut Amber up for once. She just stroked her new purse and shoved her shopping bags under her desk.

“Nice purse, by the way,” I added. “Amazing what you can get for fourteen hundred dollars these days, isn’t it?” I recalled the days of old, before I knew about Lara and Scott’s affair. Lara would appear with fantastically expensive designer purses and dresses all the time. I knew how much that little Chloe beauty she was fingering was worth. I quickly glanced at Scott’s schedule in terror. Could I be that blind twice? Amber wasn’t having an affair with Scott, was she? I saw with tremendous relief that Scott was lunching with Katherine Watson to-day. And I’d confirmed with her assistant myself, so I knew for certain he wasn’t the plastic. Anyway, Lara had quite smartly insisted on taking over the management of their credit cards and bank accounts in order to keep some control over their life. What she of course didn’t know was that as soon as Scott agreed to this arrangement, he’d opened up a separate bank account that he kept nicely padded for his private needs. But even if Scott wasn’t the culprit, I’d obviously hit a nerve, because Amber’s eyes narrowed and all the sweet pretense dropped away. She stepped dangerously close to my desk. I actually felt a moment of real fear as she stuck her freckly face as near to mine as possible. I could smell her minty breath, and the only thought that kept running through my head was what smell the mints must be covering. And I strongly

suspected that it wasn’t garlic.

“Mind your own business, Lizzie. Or you’ll live to regret it,” she said, and then smiled sweetly, brushing a piece of hair off my face. “You look so pretty with your hair off your face, Lizzie,” she said loudly. Then backed off and casually shoved her bags farther under her desk.

It was only when I looked up that I noticed the reason for the sud-den, schizophrenic shift in her personality. Scott and Katherine were headed toward our desks.

“Hi, ladies,” Katherine said amiably, then turned her full attention to Amber as I handed Scott his call sheet.

“Amber, are you joining Michael and me at the gallery opening tomorrow night? I’d love to get your opinion on one of the oils I’m interested in.”

“Definitely, Katherine,” Amber preened. “I looked at the pictures on-line and I see he studied at The Slade. I have some friends who went there. I’ve asked one of them to check his prices in London for you.”

Katherine looked thrilled. “Great. We can go together straight from here tomorrow night.”

“I can’t wait,” Amber said with a relaxed, casual smile as Katherine walked away. Then she turned her brown laser beams on Scott, and dumped me in it royally.

“Oh, Scott. I noticed it wasn’t on your call sheet, but Jason Blum called for you. Lizzie says he’s thinking of leaving The Agency. Apparently he’s been talking to Daniel Rosen.”

Scott’s eyes lit up. Battle-ready. There was nothing he loved more than a fight. Especially with Daniel Rosen. Since the takeover they’d pretended to be buddy-buddy, but everyone knew that was just a façade, especially when male pride was at stake.

“Lizzie, why didn’t you put this on my call sheet?” he said accusatori-ally. “You’ve really got to get it together. Amber, I need to see the copy of the contract we signed with Jason last year when he dumped Daniel.”

“Right away, Scott. And I’ll have Lizzie grab you a coffee.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” He disappeared into his office without even looking back. I just sat there dumbly staring at Amber with an open mouth.

“Would you mind grabbing me a soy chai latte while you’re at the Coffee Bean?” she said with a dictatorial tone in her voice. I stood up in a rage. How did this girl manage to best me at every turn? I wanted to cry I was so furious.

“It would be my pleasure, Amber. If it has a faint whiff of urine when it arrives, just ignore it. Occasionally their soy tastes a little off.” Then I grabbed some petty cash and stormed out of the office.

I was pathetic. All I could muster up was the old pee-in-her-coffee

line. I had to do better than that or I wouldn’t have a hope in hell of surviving the next few months. And I knew it would take me at least that long to find a film project, let alone one I was being paid for. I stepped out into the rain and realized I’d forgotten my raincoat. I made a mad dash across the street and flew in the door trying unsuccessfully to dodge the raindrops. The combination of my new flats, my speed, and the slippery linoleum floor proved a disaster. I went flying headfirst into the Coffee Bean like a bowling ball, plowing all the unsuspecting cof-fee-clutching pins out of the way. I slid to a stop right at the feet of some very expensive stiletto boots and a tiny little miniskirt.

“Lizzie!” the boots screeched with genuine pleasure. Someone snickered, probably at my red leopard granny underpants that I realized were on display for all customers to see. But I was focusing on the screech. I still had occasional nightmares about that voice. I looked up slowly and there smiling down at me was Emerald Everhart.

She hauled me up off the floor with incredible dexterity for a tooth-pick on stilts. Then she threw her arms around me in the most generous embrace. And to my shock and surprise, I squeezed her back with true emotion. Though Thailand had been a roller coaster, ultimately, in her own twisted way, Emerald had been one of the most loyal people I’d ever worked for. And her smiling face was a welcome sight on a rainy, Amber-hating afternoon.

“Lizzie. I was going to call you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.”

I looked around suspiciously for lurking paparazzi. Let’s just say I’d learned from past experience. I spotted a suspicious-looking guy in a raincoat in the corner. I lowered my voice and leaned in. “Em, that guy in the corner could be press. So keep it down.”

Emerald rolled her eyes at me in exasperation. “Lizzie, he’s got a dog with him.”

I glanced down at the suspicious man’s feet and saw the most enormous pooch. “It’s really hard to chase stars down the street or jump on a motorcycle with your Newfoundland in tow,” Emerald said, laughing. “Unless he is planning to hop on the dog’s back and ride after me.”

“Point taken, missy, but you’ve scarred me for life,” I said as I steered

her toward a secluded table in the corner. Emerald looked momentarily guilty, but then smiled like a madonna.

“I’m on the straight and narrow now, Lizzie. No drinks. No drugs. No sex. It’s actually kind of fun. I had no idea what a brilliant excuse being clean was. When I don’t want to do something, I just blame it on AA. And my sponsor is even more famous than me.” She dropped her voice to the usual indiscreet stage whisper. “Kate!” she said excitedly. I was appropriately impressed.

“Are you coming to see Scott? I didn’t see it in his schedule,” I said, truly curious as to what Scott had up his sleeve for her comeback.