The First Assistant (36 page)

“You’re so pathetic, Lizzie. Did you ever really think you were a match for me?”

Never in my life have I ever done anything remotely violent. I am a pacifist. My family are all pacifists. Catfights are in my opinion the low-est of the low and give women a bad name. But suddenly I was filled with an all-consuming rage. This woman had almost ruined my life. She was the incarnate of evil and there she was with her face an inch away from mine. My fist literally acted on its own accord and it came out of nowhere, landing a right cross smack on her average little cheekbone. She recoiled in shocked horror as I said a quick, silent thank you to the boxing instructor at Crunch. I scrambled off the floor in a big hurry to protect myself in case she decided to retaliate.

“You hit me!” she screamed.

“You framed me. You blackmailing black-hearted bitch!” I yelled back. This seemed to get everyone in the building’s attention. People started to flood in from various random corridors. There hadn’t been this much excitement since the hostile takeover. But I can tell you from first-hand experience that this was much more hostile than the takeover.

“Security!” she screamed. “Police! I want her arrested for assault!” The two detectives emerged from Scott’s office.

“You called?” the woman officer said, dangling her cuffs. Amber was slightly confused as to where they came from, but she was in such a rage she didn’t bother to think.

“Yes. Arrest that girl for assault and blackmail. We all know what low-life scum you are,” she said to me. “I don’t care, Scott, I’m not keeping it a secret anymore. I’m pressing charges!” she howled.

Scott gave a nod to the police and the woman officer walked up to us. Amber looked thrilled, but when the policewoman snapped the cuffs on her wrist, she blinked in confusion.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you—”

“Get off me!” Amber ordered in her imperious British accent. But the policewoman, who had obviously been made a bit of a fool by Amber’s web of lies, wasn’t loosening her grip.

“I demand to be released right this instant. Scott, come on, this is Lizzie spinning her web of lies.”

“Amber. You’re caught,” I said with glee. “Everyone knows. They have your fingerprints. They found the payphone you used to place the blackmail calls. It would have been smarter to use one a bit farther away from your house,” I said with relish.

“Oh, and Amber,” Scott said, with his usual laid-back tone, “We’ve convinced three clients to press charges. I have one word for you: Jail.” He turned around and dusted off his hands. “Everyone get back to work. The show is over,” Scott said as he closed his office door.

Amber just stood there in shock. The policewoman gave her a tug and started to lead her from the building. They got to the elevator and as the doors opened there stood Katherine Watson. Katherine was possibly the coolest woman I’d ever met. She just looked at Amber, looked

at the police, and gave Amber a little wink. Then walked past her and into Scott’s office. I breathed a big sigh of relief, and as the elevator doors closed, I heard the pop of a champagne cork from Scott’s office. I smiled as I walked in to join the celebration.

“Honey, it’s me!” I called out as I cautiously pushed open Jason’s front door. Although he’d given me a key, I still never felt the way I had when I let myself into Luke’s. Jason’s house just wasn’t somewhere I felt comfortable hanging out, and I knew in the back of my mind that it was never going to be home. That wasn’t because Jason had terrible taste in rugs, either, it was just that I didn’t have the same hormonal nesting instinct with him. The way I had felt about Luke had made me want to wear an apron, bake cakes, and sit on the porch and drink beer with him in the evenings. Which may just have been because he was Southern and that twang brought out the old-fashioned girl in me. But I figured that really it was because my relationship with Jason had nearly always involved business. We had fun, but it was usually when we’d had an amazing interview or were deeply absorbed in a conversation about Visconti. Otherwise we just had sex as some peculiar force of habit. It was comfortable. But it completely lacked the sense of excitement and romance I’d had with other men in my life. Nevertheless, as I walked through Jason’s front door, I tried to push this thought to the back of my mind. We hadn’t seen seen each other in a week and I had so much to fill him in on. I was still slightly buzzed from the champagne celebration and I couldn’t wait to tell him all about Amber and gloat.

“Hey, Lizzie! Come see this!” Jason called out. I followed his voice and made my way to his bedroom, where he was looking up at the largest plasma screen I’d ever seen.

“Is that forty-two inches?” I asked.

“No, darling, it’s bigger. It’s fifty-four.” He grinned as he sat crossed-legged on the bed and flicked between channels. “Don’t you love it?”

“Yeah,” I said as I dropped down onto the bed and gazed up at the screen. “Isn’t it a bit intrusive in your bedroom, though? Shouldn’t it be in a screening room?”

“No, it’s perfect in the bedroom. Can’t think of anything I’d rather do

in bed than watch movies,” he said as he flicked to a DVD of
Sex Addicts in Love.

“Not even
you know what?
” I said as I kicked off my shoes and sidled up to him, putting my hand on his thigh in a suggestive way, but not go-ing straight for the crotch in case he really wasn’t in the mood.

“Maybe after the movie,” he suggested as he put his hand over mine and maneuvered it to his chest in a friendly manner. “I read a review to-day that compared some of the camera angles in
Sex Addicts
to
Belle de jour
so I want to check it out. I mean, I can’t see it myself, but I guess I could have been unconsciously influenced, y’know?” he said as he kissed the top of my head and then lay back happily on his pillow.

“It’s really good to see you. I’ve had such a crazy week,” I said, shrugging off the clear rejection because really I was probably as un-in-the-mood as Jason was for getting hot and heavy. Anyway, I was still flying high from my victory and nothing was going to get me down.

“Really? Great. Well you can tell me about it later,” he said and sort of patted me as his eyes remained glued to his own camera angles.

“Amber was so pathetic,” I persisted. “Did I tell you she was having an affair with Katherine Watson’s husband as well as blackmailing people? They offered me my job back. Not that I want to be reinstated, but it’s good to know I’m in the clear. But I think I want to start a production company of my own. I have no idea how I’ll survive until then. Maybe I’ll learn how to bartend to make ends meet.”

“Honey?” Jason said, not unkindly, “do you think we can talk about this after the movie?”

“Sure,” I said and shuffled out of his embrace and into the kitchen.

As I stood in Jason’s kitchen, it became clearer and clearer to me that being here was a mistake. Being in Jason’s life like this was just wrong. We were great friends and we had been ever since that first day we’d met in the Coffee Bean. Pretending that we could be anything more was nonsense really. Even if I didn’t have Luke in my life, at least I owed myself the space to find someone else. I wasn’t Emerald Everhart; I expected more from love and marriage. I went to the fridge and poured myself a glass of milk. Then I sat down at his kitchen table and began a Su Doku on the back of the newspaper. I hadn’t done one since

I’d been fired; for obvious reasons, it had left a nasty taste in my mouth. But I couldn’t resist this one. I chewed my pen and lost myself in the numbers.

Ten minutes later I was deep into my puzzle when Jason’s landline began to ring. I expected him to pick up in his bedroom but clearly he was too busy getting off on the similarity between his shots and Buñuel’s. Jason’s machine clicked in.

“Hi, this is Jason. Please leave a message.
Beep.
”

“Jason, hi, it’s me.”
A woman’s most try-hard sexy voice filled the silent kitchen. From down the hall I could hear the movie playing. Ja-son clearly couldn’t hear the message.
“Listen, the thing is, I’d love to come to the Oscars with you. I just wasn’t sure if I was going to be away filming, but I have a few days off. So I guess it’s a date. Call me.”

I put down my pen and thought hard about where the next number nine would go in my Su Doku. I could have sworn that I recognized the woman’s voice but had no idea where from. She was obviously an actress, because I could hear her pout all the way down the line. But curiously I wasn’t too concerned about what should have mattered the most—the fact that I had clearly been usurped as Jason’s Oscar date. I just kept on with my Su Doku and wondered whether I should call my dad in D.C. and ask him to be my date now. When Jason finally wandered into the kitchen half an hour later, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, “Should we get takeout or something? I could call Matsuhisa.” “I’ve finished your cookies,” I said and pointed to the empty package. “So I’m not really that hungry anymore. But I’ll have some yellowtail if

you’re ordering.”

“Okay.” Jason went to the phone and hunted in a drawer for a menu. “Oh, by the way, someone left a message,” I said and glanced up at him. “Thanks.” Jason reached over and pressed the Play button.

“Jason, hi, it’s me. Listen, the thing is, I’d love to come to the Oscars with you. I just wasn’t sure if I was going to be away filming, but I have a few days off. So I guess it’s a date. Call me,”
she said again. And I knew that I recognized the voice but still couldn’t place it.

“So I guess I should find myself another date? Right?” I asked as Ja-son looked down at the machine incredulously. As if it had bitten him on the ankle.

“I er.. .”

“Who is she?” I asked, not really even caring, just curious to see if I knew her.

“She’s nobody.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked defeated.

“You asked nobody to be your date to the Oscars? Well, if you don’t mind me saying so, that’s pretty dumb. It’s going to be the biggest night of your life.”

“I just thought that it might be good for my profile if I had an actress as a date, you know? The power couple thing.”

“Oh, so she
is
an actress.” I nodded sanguinely.

“Lizzie, don’t be mad. You care as much about my career as I do, right?” He looked imploringly at me.

“Well no, actually, I don’t. Because if I cared as much as you, I’d be certifiable. But I kind of understand. Why be with the homely producer-girl-who-got-lucky when you can be with . . . ?” I quizzed.

“Carmen Cash,” Jason said reluctantly. “Carmen Cash?” I squealed. “You did not!” “She’s sweet,” Jason said defensively.

Something to remember: You can always tell when a man’s sleeping with a woman because, provided he’s not a total butthole, he will de-fend her honor, even if it gets him into trouble. Lara taught me this. Apparently she once caught Scott out when he was having an affair with a girl from his gym who customized jean jackets with studs. She said, “I can’t believe you’re sleeping with that fat, blond airhead.” And immediately Scott replied, “She’s not fat.” QED.

“She wears a ring on her thumb.” I gasped.

“Does she?” Jason looked as if he was casting his mind back to a by-gone hotel room. Though clearly her thumb ring was not the most memorable part of their night together.

“She also has breasts like unripe cantaloupes.” I grimaced, casting my own mind back to Thailand where Carmen had spent the majority of her days perched on the counter of the craft services van in a miniskirt without any panties on. She really had a knack for putting people off their food. Men and women alike, but, I guessed, for very different reasons.

“I know,” Jason said as his eyes lost the ability to focus.

“Okay, well, that’s fine by me. But maybe if you want to do the whole ‘power couple at the Academy Awards’ thing you should call The Agency and ask if one of their finer actresses is available for the night. How about Scarlett?” I suggested.

“I already asked her,” he said quickly.

“Okay.” I tried not to sound bitter but I guess as the woman who’d considered herself to be his girlfriend for the last two months I did have a right to a small hissy fit. “Kirstin Dunst? She’s bright but not out of your league.”

“I checked. She has a fiancé.” Poor Jason, I almost felt sorry for him. Not.

“Nicole Kidman?” I asked, my voice laced with irony. I mean Jason had won a Golden Globe but his movie had only taken in fourteen million. He wasn’t exactly Scorsese.

“That’s a great idea. Is she repped by Katherine?” he demanded excitedly, then suddenly became downcast again. “But what should I do about Carmen? I can’t let her down.”

“No, that’d be a really terrible thing to do,” I said sarcastically. But Ja-son was too wrapped up in his dating life to notice that he’d done just that to me. I guess I wasn’t an actress, so I didn’t count.

“Jason, I think I’m going to head home. It’s been a long day,” I said as I folded up the newspaper and smuggled it into my purse so that I could fin-ish my puzzle later. Jason poured himself a glass of wine from the fridge and pondered the limitless options of the young director on the ascendant. “You’re not going to stay?” He looked as if I’d popped his bubble

when I picked up my shawl.

“Jason, you know I love you, but . . .” I said as I hitched my purse onto my shoulder.

“Whoa there, we’re doing ‘love’ already?” He took a step backward and defended himself with his wineglass.

“As a friend, you idiot,” I clarified. “The thing is I love you like a friend but there’s no way that you and I are ever going to work out.”

“There isn’t?” He seemed genuinely surprised at this assertion. I decided to break it to him gently.

“You’re a total slut and you love movies more than human beings.”

“No!” he protested in outrage.

“Yes,” I said as I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “I want a man who’s going to be faithful to me and who would rather look at my breasts than Catherine Deneuve’s.”

“Well, darling, in that case, your prince may never come,” Jason earnestly informed me.