Her smile transforms to a grimace. “I hope you’re up for a challenge. Arthur is the taciturn sort, and he was never overly fond of reporters. Even less so now than when he was in front of the camera.”
I assumed as much, so it doesn’t surprise me. It will make my job difficult, but I’m looking forward to it. Already I can feel my blood pumping with excitement. “I’ve dealt with similar clients.”
“I appreciate your excitement. That’s exactly what I’m looking for to help make Arthur’s return to the screen a success. I think your fresh perspective will be a real asset. Now, if you’ll open the packet, you’ll see some materials drafted by our marketing department. Initial releases announcing the project, a proposed synopsis of the script, the cast list, and important dates.”
I take a steadying breath as Catherine speaks, gathering my thoughts. “I’d like to get involved straight away to get a feel for the cast and crew. I’m a bit of an amateur photographer—I took some classes in college—and I’d like to work with the still photographer on set to get some background images of prep for a behind-the-scenes social media campaign to get started. Mr. Oswald will be a tough sell, but maybe we can work that to our advantage—hint at his presence to stir the older generation and wow the younger who grew up watching him act in films. Sort of a teaser campaign to draw interest while we begin filming.”
She considers for a moment, then says, “Why don’t you go to the pre-production meeting tomorrow morning? You can meet everyone and get your feet wet since you’ll be living and breathing this movie for the next several months. For the foreseeable future, you’ll need to be on set if you aren’t here or asleep. While you’re there, work with the photographer on what you have in mind for the social media campaign and, over the next week or so, draft up a proposal for your release strategy over the next several months.”
“I’m on it!”
“Additionally, I like to make it clear that employees are not to be romantically linked with anyone affiliated with a current contract. I’m sure you’ll understand that we like to keep our interactions strictly professional. There’s been... trouble with the lead, Griffin McNalley, in this respect on previous films. We’d like to discourage any negative press where he’s concerned.”
The thought of me being romantically linked with anyone, let alone someone I have to work with, is laughable. Men are so far off my radar, I forgot the steps to that whole dance a while ago. “Of course. I understand.”
She beams at me. “Wonderful. I have every confidence you’ll succeed here. I have another meeting, but you’ll be reporting directly to me for the duration of the contract. If you have a question and I’m not available, you can ask my assistant.”
I have a thousand questions and can’t wait to pour over the information in the folder. My inner film geek is squealing in delight. Trying to contain myself, I get to my feet, smoothing my serviceable black skirt with one hand, then transferring the folder to offer the other to Catherine. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mrs. Cole. I won’t disappoint you.”
“Catherine, please. We’re all friends here. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish. You can use the car service for transportation from the office to the studio. Location, contact information, etcetera is also all in the folder.”
Nodding, I clutch the folder to my chest and excuse myself back to my cubicle before I kiss her gorgeous designer pumps. One day I’ll have an office with a view, but honestly, this is already going better than all of my wildest dreams. I close my eyes for a moment as a negative thought bubble pops in my head, reminding me that something bad is sure to happen to balance out my good fortune.
You can’t think like that.
One breathing exercise later, I place the folder on my desk. Reverently, I open it to find a brief summary of the project, a bio of Whitmore Studios, and up-to-date information about Arthur Oswald. I weigh all three and decide to start with the studio and save Arthur for last.
Whitmore Studios is an up-and-coming venture, having put out three runaway blockbusters in the last five years. Their projects are all well-cast and well-reviewed. Not intimidating, considering I’ll be the coordinator between the studio and the film to take their publicity campaigns to the highest level. The assets I manage during filming will assist in making or breaking its release. No pressure.
I’m almost as excited to read about the film as I am to learn more about the illusive man himself. My foot jiggles as though I’ve mainlined three shots of espresso. It has everything. Passion, intrigue, action, emotion. Everything I’d expect from an Oswald project.
My breathing exercises don’t help at all once I set the other paperwork aside and dive for Arthur’s. Before I read the first line, I’m interrupted by a knock at my cubicle. I turn and find an attractive, petite brunette with a sunny smile, the kind of smile you can’t help but return.
“Hello!” she says pleasantly. “I wanted to pop by and introduce myself before you get busy. I’m Delilah Marshall, the marketing manager.”
“So nice to meet you! I’m Phoebe Hart, but my family calls me Bea.” We exchange a warm handshake.
She gives a sweet giggle. “I like you already. My friends call me Dee. I’ll be handling everything on the post-production end for the studio, so we’ll be coordinating a lot throughout the process. My number is in your info packet, so feel free to call me anytime you have an issue.”
“Thanks, Dee. I’ll definitely do that.”
She waves a little, and her hair sways as she glides away. Thank goodness she’s super nice. I’ve heard horror story after horror story about the industry, and I am happy she hasn’t turned out to be one of them.
My first day is off to a wonderful start. And I didn’t even need my new gun. My smile is a tad wry as I turn back to my desk. Dad would be so disappointed.
Chapter Two
Griffin
The long stretch of freeway between my home in Huntington Beach and Los Angeles beckons, a siren call. A hint of danger. My favorite temptress.
Seth punches my shoulder from the passenger seat without looking up from his phone. “Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warns.
“You know for my assistant, you sure have a filthy mouth,” I say, checking my rearview mirror. Empty.
There’s no one around. Rare for a Monday morning.
“So fire me,” Seth shoots back.
“Maybe one day I will.” Which we both know is a lie.
He snorts. “Yeah, right. Like you could survive without me. If it doesn’t have tits or an ignition, you’re clueless.”
I’d argue, but he’s not wrong. The speedometer inches towards eighty. It’s a shame to keep a beauty like a fire-engine red Nissan GT-R reined in. A damn shame.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” comes Seth’s voice. “You’re going to ruin your first day back before we even get there.”
I ignore him. Seth may have worked for me as long as I’ve had the GT-R, but his words of caution generally go in one ear and out the other. To his eternal frustration, I do what I damn well please—most of the time to my own detriment.
Eighty-five.
Ninety.
Ninety-five.
My hands grow slick on the steering wheel as the engine purrs underneath the hood. Adrenaline spikes, flooding my system with sweet euphoria. We glide along the empty road like a phantom on the wind. It almost makes having to go back to work bearable.
Almost.
“C’mon, Griff,” Seth complains, “don’t be a dick. Slow down.”
“Don’t be a killjoy. It’s about time I let this baby fly.”
“You’re gonna let it fly right into a guard rail.”
One hundred.
One hundred and five.
“I wouldn’t do that. This was the first thing I bought after my first film. Cost nearly three years’ salary as a Marine. I’d never—”
A shrill chirp cuts me off, and flashing lights fill my rearview.
“Oh
great,” Seth says. “I can’t wait to see this on my feed. Hollywood superstar Griffin McNalley—arrested. Your new publicist will love that.”
I roll my eyes to myself as I retrieve my license, registration, and proof of insurance. The officer taps on my window, and I roll it down with a sigh. “Good morning, Officer,” I say mildly.
“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
Not fast enough.
Not nearly fast enough.
Twenty minutes, an autograph, and two hefty fines later, we’re back on the road—at a much more reasonable speed. L.A. looms in the distance, and I can’t help but wish I could turn around and hide away forever. If only the guys on my team could see me now. I’d never live it down. It’d be even worse than when they learned I was going to act in movies. Their nickname for me, Hollywood, will probably be etched on my gravestone.
“Oh, look,” Seth says cheerfully. “You’re already trending.”
He flashes his screen at me, and I see blurry shots from the traffic stop with captions like, “OMG! I totally saw Griffin get pulled over on my way to work. I hope he isn’t in trouble!” emblazoned underneath.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” I say under my breath. “If you say I told you so, I really will fire your ass.”
Seth—to his credit—keeps his mouth shut for once.
At least until we get to Los Angeles.
“I’ve had it up to here with you, McNalley. Do you hear me? One more stunt like this, and we’ll replace you. I don’t care what Oswald wants.” Theodore Brown frowns at me from behind his expansive desk. I’m surprised he can speak, considering how hard his teeth are clamped together. It’d be a shame to ruin all that expensive dental work. Seriously, I’ve never seen teeth so white. How these California types get anything done when they spend so much time on grooming always amazes me.
Oswald doesn’t flinch at the mention of his name. His stoic presence hovers at the edge of my vision like a specter, so still and silent I’ve forgotten he’s there until Theo mentions his name again. He reminds me of a younger Harrison Ford, but more severe and less forgiving.
To Theo, I say, “I’ll take care of it. It’s only a speeding ticket.” It’s hard for me to give the ticket a shred of my concern. After you’ve been shot at, held dying friends in your arms, and still lived to see another day, everything else seems trivial.
Theo gives me a hard smile. “Not for you. A speeding ticket means press. It means throwing your name back in the public eye—and not even for positive reasons, like the new movie you’re starring in, but for stupid reasons, like joy riding. After what happened last year, do you really think this is how you want to launch yourself—and this film—into the limelight? Mistakes like this won’t be tolerated again. If you screw up one more time, you’re toast. The only reason why we’re keeping you around is because of him.” He stabs a finger in Oswald’s direction. “Do you understand me?”
I’ve been in front of enough drill sergeants to know when it’s in my best interest to shut the hell up, so I say, “Understood.” On the one hand, I get that it’s a big deal. Publicity is part of my job. I just find it hard to give a damn about what some trash tabloid thinks of me when there are bigger problems in the world. “It won’t happen again.” Or rather, no one will find out about it if it does.
Theo leans forward as though trying to intimidate me. I bite back a sneer. As if a pampered pretty boy like him could intimidate anyone unless he used his wallet. Then I remember I did the same thing with the cop, using my influence to talk myself out of a more serious charge, and then when that didn’t work, my money to make it all go away. I don’t know how to feel about the similarity. “See that it doesn’t,” Theo is saying, which I take as a dismissal.
Seth will be pleased the meeting didn’t devolve into shouting, at least. Sometimes it feels like he’s more my boss than the other way around. Shaking my head, I make my way toward the elevator when a hand on my shoulder stops me.
I jerk around and find Arthur Oswald looming behind me. He’s bigger in person than on the screen. Or maybe he has more of a presence when he’s right in front of you and pissed off. “I’m sorry about that in there,” I say when silence surrounds us.
“You’d better be,” he says in a low, steady voice. “I didn’t put my neck out for you because I wanted to be made a fool of. This may not be important to you, but it is to me. Fuck up again, and I’ll find another jarhead wannabe superhero to replace you. And I won’t pussyfoot around it like Theo.” The elevator door dings and opens. Oswald steps around me and inside.
Seething, I step just inside the doorway. “If I’m so replaceable, why choose me in the first place? You could have had a thousand guys without my history. Why not pick someone easy to deal with? ’Cause I am who I am. You knew that when you came to me for this gig.”
“Sometimes the risks are worth the reward. Don’t fuck it up again,” is all he says, then looks pointedly at the doors I’m blocking.
I take a step back, and they close between us.
Seth doesn’t say a word when I meet him at the GT. The sight of the car does little to lift my spirits like it would have on any other day, and I don’t dare take it out for another joy ride. Looks like I’m shackled for the duration of filming. At least there will be stunts for me to get my adrenaline fix.
“Let’s get through today with both our jobs,” I say as I click the fob to unlock the doors.
“Just don’t draw attention to yourself. Keep your head down. Oswald may be old news, but he still has sway. And he has something to prove with this project. If you’re ever going to get another job in this town, this film has to do well. Which means you need to stop being stupid and put your game face on.”
He’s said the same thing to me for the past however many years. “Yes, Mom.”
“I mean it, dude. You’re lucky to even have a job right now. Don’t screw it up.”
His words echo Oswald’s, putting me in a foul mood. I pull into the lot and show the security guard my badge. As he signs us in, I glace at Seth. “Drop it, man.”
“Whatever you say.”
I’m still scowling when we join the rest of the production team on set. A caterer has a table set up with platters of breakfast food, which is definitely the best part of any production. I snag a couple veggie breakfast burritos and a water, wishing they were sausage and egg and a Coke instead. The unfortunate truth is, I have to watch what I eat, so veggies and water it is. A cadre of nutritionists and trainers monitor my weight and meals to the ounce. It’s not worth hearing yet another person bitch at me to risk that much fat and grease. Dozens of people mill around with clipboards in their hands and cell phones glued to their faces. I sit at a table while an assistant director tries to herd the rest of the crowd.
I could have waited to visit the set until the next day when principal filming began. Most actors did in order to maintain a modicum of distance from the hangers-on, but I like being in the thick of things from the beginning. The hustle keeps my adrenaline up and puts me in the right frame of mind for when I get in front of the camera. I may be playing at danger, but at least it’s something. I’ll never be back in the Corps, never take a job with anyone like Cole Security Forces again, so acting and stunt work it is.
“Dude. Are you in deep shit or what?” Steve Pellinski, the stunt coordinator, stops by my table after the food is cleared away. He’s a good foot shorter than me and built like a bear. He’s also the best in the business. I wouldn’t trust my life with anyone else. “I hear Theo is pissed. Were you trying to alienate everyone on the first day?”
“You know me. Always aim to please.” I take his hand and pull him in for a hearty, back-slapping hug. It’s nice to see a familiar face. “How’ve you been, man? It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. Glad you’re here, man. What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you since . . .” Steve trails off, and his grin fades from underneath his bushy beard.
Since
our last film together last year.
The one that nearly ruined my career and took my life along with it.
“Don’t sweat it. I’ve been taking it easy. How about you?”
He accepts the lie—either because he believes it or because he doesn’t want to rehash a painful topic. “Dude, I’m so stoked to be working on this gig. With Arthur Fucking Oswald, can you believe it? Look, there he is. A fucking legend.”
I follow Steve’s gaze to the head table where Arthur is talking with a couple of the crew. The urge to scoff and talk shit is strong, but I hold my tongue. The two crewmembers he’s talking to are red-faced, and I can practically see them sweating from across the room. Guess I’m not the only one he’s happy to ream out, and we haven’t even started filming.
With a snort, I finish my food while Steve waxes poetic about Oswald. I let him because Steve’s a good guy—his taste in directors notwithstanding. He had my back when a lot of other people in the industry didn’t. You can’t buy friendship like that.
Seth appears out of nowhere with a woman at his side. Steve excuses himself after a polite nod at them both. The woman is smiling nervously, all business and jittery energy. Her light hair is wrapped in a bun, and there are small pearl studs in her ears. The crisp white blouse and snug little black skirt are a far cry from the hoodies and jeans most of the crew normally wears. Maybe that’s why she stands out. Little Miss Prim and Proper makes me want to find out what it’ll take to get her blood pumping. No doubt my antics this morning would have her running screaming in the other direction. I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my lips.
“Griffin, this is our publicist, Phoebe Hart. Phoebe, I apologize in advance, but this is Griffin McNalley.”
“No apologies necessary. It’s so nice to meet you,” she says after an amused smile at Seth. Her words have a slight Southern accent, but her voice is light and soft, fresh as a spring raindrop. The kind of voice that’d keep you up late at night, wanting to hear all her secrets. But it’s her different colored eyes, one green and one brown, that have me biting back the sarcastic response to Seth that begins to form on my tongue. I stare at them long enough that she clears her throat to get my attention.
Reckless: A Salvation Society Novel Page 2