If I could find a job, I mused to myself. More on that depressing subject later.
Siobhan shook her head and took a drink of her champagne. "Whatever. No one forced you here. By the way, you have an admirer, Blondie. 2 o'clock."
Attempting to be nonchalant, I looked slightly to my right. Slouching against the wall was Nick Hart. Known for his reserved, charismatic appeal, he wasn't like other singers in the business. Not only was he sharp and witty, he managed to avoid the paparazzi at all cost with some sort of second sense. He was a mystery, which made him more appealing to the public. Add in his beguiling smile and dark, handsome boy next-door looks, he was a PR wet dream. He didn't need photo ops or gossip sites. He was hot, sexy and everyone wanted him.
"I'm sure he's not looking at me," I shot back. I took a nervous sip and cleared my throat.
"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt," Siobhan quipped. She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder. "Seriously dude, he's been watching you for at least 20 minutes. Why wouldn't he look at you? You're fabulous. Go talk to him." She gave me a sharp shove.
My mouth dropped. I turned to face her, staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. "What am I supposed to do? Just saunter up to him and say what exactly? Something like 'I've noticed you staring, would you like to take me home and have your way with me?’"
Siobhan attempted to clap with her champagne flute in one hand. She then pretended to wipe a tear away with her finger. "Mama's so proud. You're growing up."
Huffing, I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling. "It's not happening, Von. Sorry."
"He's a saint by Hollywood standards and he's fucking beautiful. Can you imagine that body naked? I mean, look at the size of his..."
I cut her off before she could go any further. "Yeah, yeah. He's gorgeous. And he doesn't date."
"Who said anything about dating? I'm talking about a much more casual type of encounter." Siobhan's eyebrows waggled suggestively. "He's still staring and I can tell he is most definitely interested. And what a coincidence - I see one of my contacts. I gotta get the scoop. I’ll be right back. Make me proud!"
She sashayed across the room in a silver streak, leaving me alone to ogle Nick Hart over my cheap glass of champagne in my overpriced cocktail dress.
He hadn't moved from his spot on the wall. I watched curiously as he took an occasional swallow from a whiskey glass, his dark eyes surveying the room with as much enthusiasm as I had. His body language and look of disgust on his face gave it away. I liked him better already.
He caught me staring, his lips curling back to reveal a mischievous smile and a set of deep dimples. Even from across the room, I could see the bright gleam of his white teeth against the pale luminance of his skin.
With a pounding heart, I quickly looked away. I focused intently on the floor before peeking up to see his eyes still piercing through me, his cell phone at his ear. My fingers combed through my blond hair and I nervously tapped the side of my glass with a fingernail as I waited for Siobhan to return.
A few people I knew passed by and we exchanged casual hellos. When I glanced back to where Nick had been standing, he was gone. I couldn't help but be a little disappointed. I'd enjoyed our brief flirtation, even if it had been mostly one-sided.
It was that exact moment Siobhan rejoined me. She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval as she picked up on my obvious disappointment. "You missed your chance. You could have been the only woman in Hollywood to fuc-"
"I got it," I admonished her with a hiss. "Are you ready to go?"
Her hazel eyes glittered with excitement. "Yep, I have a story to write. Wait until you read my post later tonight. My photographer caught Marley Cirran snorting a certain white illegal substance up her nose like she was a Dyson vacuum."
"Another former child star gone bad? Color me shocked," I deadpanned. I placed my half-empty glass down on a table and we headed out of the building towards the valet. Siobhan fished her ticket out of her purse and extended it to one if the attendants.
"This is huge. Savannah. Like big, big. Every media outlet is going to pick up my story. Marley Cirran and her father have been pushing her goody-goody act down everyone's throats for the last four years. He even paid off The National Inquisitor five months ago to stop them from running the real reason she was fired from her TV show."
The valet returned with her bright blue Porsche. He leapt from the driver’s seat, darting around the car to open the passenger side for me. Offering a nod of thanks, I sank into the soft leather seat next to Siobhan.
"This will ruin her career, you know," I advised softly. As much as I disliked the annoying twit, she was only 18. This exposé would kill her professionally. No studio would insure her with the reputation she was earning with her out of control antics. I knew what it was like to have the lens of a camera in your business 24/7. Any miscalculated step would be broadcasted everywhere for everyone to see and judge. And my experience had been nine years ago. The Internet had made any kind of news available instantly – and the paparazzi moved like a pack of vicious hyenas, picking for any scrap of gossip.
Siobhan turned her hazel eyes my way, flashing me a sympathetic smile. She knew from experience I was thinking of the hell I went through for six months after my modeling experience. "This is nothing like you went through. And I know what this will do to her career, if that’s what you want to call it. She was sitting at a patio table at a restaurant in the Valley when she chose to publicly snort a vial of coke. It's the way of Hollywood, Blondie. Think of it like Darwinism, Los Angeles style."
"Survival of the fittest, huh?" I mused bitterly, my hands clenching in my lap.
She squealed away from the curb, dodging through traffic. "Exactly. Well, maybe like survival of the celebrity with the best agent and most brain cells. You made it through and all you did was pose in some panties for a closeted gay designer. No one was upset with you. The paps were after you because you're gorgeous and were so naive. You were like a breath of fresh air. It was your mother they hated."
I knew Siobhan was right. The media had systematically destroyed my mother. She'd been called everything from a pedophile peddler to a vile opportunist. After the ordeal, my mother and I rarely spoke. I'd gone to live with my father shortly after the photos went live in every magazine from Vogue to Rolling Stone. Not to mention the billboard on Times Square...
We drove in silence, neither of us speaking until she pulled up in front of my townhome.
"I'm sorry this upset you. It's my job, Savannah," Siobhan said. She patted my arm softly. "I'll try to be nice when I write up the story."
Opening the car door, I swung my legs out and stood. I stuck my head back inside the car. "Von, do what you need to do. It just hit close to home. End of story. Be careful."
Closing the door, I tapped the roof lightly. She pealed away, her taillights disappearing down my street. Tossing my keys in the air, I made my way up the sidewalk to my house.
I had quite the surprise waiting for me inside.
***
I hadn't expected to have a voice mail like this one waiting for me. I was exhausted, kicking off my heels as soon as I'd locked the door behind me. The light flashing on my phone alerted me to a message. I pressed the button for my voicemail and let the message play through the speaker.
"Savannah, this is Elliott Winters. I'd like you to stop by my office tomorrow around 11. I have a job opportunity I'd like you to interview for...one of my clients is in need of a personal assistant. This interview will be a two step process."
The message droned on to give me other basic information about the meeting. The client’s name was never revealed.
And that is how I came to be standing in the bathroom of Elliott Winters office building, adjusting my blouse in the mirror and leaning in closer to apply a thin coat of nude lipstick. Rubbing my lips together, I smiled widely at my own reflection. My blond hair was expertly tousled and my make-up was impeccable. It was important...no, it was a must that I looked perfect
for this interview. I knew I wasn't taken seriously in this business for quite a few reasons. My blond hair, blue-eyed good looks and plentiful curves made me seem like every other bubble headed actress wannabe. God knows I'd been approached more than I could count on both of my hands twice. The casting couch didn't just apply to actresses. It also applied to washed up teenage models who wanted a career instead of being a mindless, needy fool.
I'd been the personal assistant to up and coming singer, Sam Stricker for nearly three years. After his fourth failed, highly publicized stint in rehab had crushed his fledgling career, I'd had no choice but to walk away before he managed to drag me down with him. He was a nice guy, but he'd let his addiction to alcohol, cocaine and hookers demolish the good-guy image he'd tried so desperately to construct. It crumbled around him faster than a house of cards in an earthquake.
That was Hollywood for you. Being famous was a smoke and mirrors game. It was fickle, fleeting and if you weren't careful, you'd be yesterday's news in the blink of an eye. Personal assistants were on first name basis with the paparazzi. We knew when we needed to call to arrange a ‘surprise’ photo op to help bolster your employer's image. I was lucky to have a best friend in the business.
You either played the game or threw in the towel and went home.
When I called Elliott early this morning to confirm, he refused to tell me who his client was, only telling me they needed a new PA and he wanted to know if I was interested in finding out more.
Of course I was intrigued and Elliott was savvy enough to know I would be. I had to land this job for more reasons than one. My self-inflicted unemployment had me burning through my savings. And yes, I could live off my Daddy's money, but I'd never wanted a free ride. And this job could propel me career-wise. In five years, I wanted to be representing clients. This job was an all around win/win for me.
With a final sigh, I turned away from the mirror and glanced at my watch. I had five minutes to spare before my interview. Plastering on my emergency smile, I pushed the butterflies down and smiled a final time at my reflection.
I could do this.
Let's get this over with. I have to get this job, I thought to myself. Yanking the door open, I strode purposely down the hallway to Elliott Winters office. The initial interview would be between Elliott and myself. If I passed the crucial first phase, the next step was to meet with the mysterious client, hoping I'd be able to win their approval as well.
Drawing a deep breath, I entered the agent's office. A gaunt faced receptionist glanced up and did her best to arrange her mouth into something that resembled a smile but made her appear constipated. Another case of too much Botox and more than likely, too much Adderall.
"Can I help you?"
"Savannah Wood to see Elliott Winters." I replied confidently. I didn't let women like this intimidate me, even though they always tried. I'd played the game long enough to know everyone had a role to play. She was the going to be the self-important gatekeeper to her boss.
"Is Mr. Winters expecting you?" She sneered coolly. She made a production of scrolling through her computer, squinting at the screen absently.
I heard a door open and a loud voice ring out into the reception area. "Regina, I'm expecting Ms. Wood. Cut the shit."
I glanced up to see Elliott Winters approach me from his office. He was a 50-something man that was thin and wiry. His pale blond hair was thick and his hazel eyes were constantly roaming between two iPhones and his watch. Dressed in an expensive Italian suit, he was still an impressive, handsome figure.
He was also my godfather. In many ways, Elliott was more like a father to me than my real dad had ever been.
"Ms. Wood, let's get this show on the road, shall we? I have a tee time with another client in an hour and a half, " Elliott said sharply. He spun and headed back into his office, motioning for me to follow.
He held the door for me and leaned in to peck me on the cheek after he closed it behind us. His severe face softened into a fond smile. "How's my favorite goddaughter?"
I rolled my eyes and jabbed him in his side with my elbow at the use of his favorite joke. I played along to humor him. "I'm your only goddaughter, Elliott."
He snorted and adjusted his tie. He gestured to a chair across from him as he sat behind his desk. "You got me again, Savannah." Elliott smiled broadly, glancing at one of his phones that buzzed. He pushed it aside and fixed his gaze back on me. "This is simply a formality. My client only wants me to meet with who I deem are the best candidates. You're the best."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Elliott," I retorted, crossing my legs and sitting back in the leather chair. "Seriously, what's the story?"
"My client is looking for a personal assistant plus. You'll be his right hand man so to speak. You and I would work closely together with him," Elliott replied. He tented his hands on the desk. "Listen, he's an easy going guy, but he's very particular and private. If he hires you, you'll have to sign a NDA."
I’d be required to sign a non-disclosure agreement? While not unusual for a celebrity to request a PA to sign one, it added to the client’s mystique. What could they possibly have to hide?
"Not an issue." I waved him off and pushed my suspicions aside for the moment. "Please tell me this isn't going to be another Sam Stricker, Elliott. What's your clients big bad?"
A deep, slightly clipped voice sounded from behind me. "I have no big bad."
I spun in my chair to see Nick Hart leaning against the wall behind me. Much more handsome than photographs and from across a crowded room, his disheveled black hair was cut short and his dark brown eyes were sparkling brightly. His wide grin revealed straight even teeth and those sexy dimples. Dressed in all black, his tight jeans clung sinfully to his long legs and his t-shirt hugged his chest like a second skin. I knew at that moment this interview hadn't been a coincidence. I was willing to bet he was talking to Elliott last night at the party, setting up this entire little charade.
Siobhan had been right last night. We'd danced around each other at the party, neither of us attempting to approach one another. Even as my cheeks burned in embarrassment, I couldn’t resist getting in a little dig. "Mr. Hart, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.”
A single black eyebrow rose at my subtle jab. He didn't move from his position at the wall, nor did his disarming smile fade. "Savannah Wood. I can assure you, the pleasure is mine. Ms. Wood, I assure you this will be the easiest job you've ever had."
His seemingly innocent words burned my embarrassment away and my temper reared its ugly head, my voice raising an octave in anger. "I don't need easy, Mr. Hart. I'm not stupid. I just prefer not to have to pick my employer up out of a pool of his own vomit again."
My mind recoiled when I thought of the morning I’d found Sam unconscious in his bathroom after overdosing on alcohol, a bottle of Xanax and cocaine. It still made my blood run cold as I recalled performing CPR on him until the paramedics arrived.
"You’re a feisty one. I like it," Nick shot back, bringing me back to the present. He exchanged a knowing look with my godfather. "Elliott, she has the job. Give her whatever she wants. Ms. Wood, I need you to start tomorrow. Is that an issue?"
"Uh, not at all," I stammered. I wasn't expecting carte blanche. I was just hoping for a second interview.
"Then it's settled. Elliott, give her the details. Until tomorrow, Ms. Wood. " Nick said. His brown eyes lingered on me before he nodded at Elliott, slid on a pair of Ray Bans and offered me a salute as he left the office in a blur of black.
My eyes met Elliott’s across the desk. I know my mouth was gaping as I tried to make sense of what occurred in less than five minutes. "What the hell just happened?"
Elliott chuckled. He handed me a manila folder and snuck a peek at his Rolex watch. "You've learned what it's like to do business with Nick Hart. This is your NDA and directions to his house. Sign it and drop it off to me on your way there tomorrow."
Opening the folder, I leafed through the pages quickly.
"What's my salary?"
He drew in a deep breath, exhaling softly. "He is willing to pay $175,000 a year. You'll be provided with a new vehicle, wardrobe and you'll be expected to travel with him to concert venues during his upcoming tour, many of which are international dates. It's all in the paperwork."
"$175,000? And all my expenses will be covered?" I was stunned as I sat back in the chair and tossed the envelope on Elliot's desk. I felt like I'd won the lottery. "Kevin is going to hate this."
Kevin Miller was my on again/off again boyfriend that was a paralegal for my father. Good looking in a metrosexual sort of way, he only had an opinion when it really didn't concern him and had no issue being quite vocal when he simply needed to shut up. I only kept him around for plus one functions and an occasional booty call.
It would be easy to judge me. I have needs and a hectic schedule. Dating is not a luxury I have time for in my life.
"Walk me out." He motioned towards the door and I quickly collected my purse and the folder. "When are you going to dump that twerp?"
We were back to Kevin again. We breezed past reception and headed towards the lobby. I fidgeted and smiled weakly. "It's nice to have someone around. Give me a break."
Elliott snorted and crossed his arms. "You're too good for Kevin. Promise me you'll consider putting him on the persona non grata list."
I smiled and reached over to brush the lapels of his suit jacket with my fingers. "I'll take it under heavy consideration. He means well."
"Savannah, I've known you for 25 years. You're beautiful, smart and intelligent. He's a pretentious asshole with an ego bigger than most of my clients. You're headed places and he'll hold you back by being a liability. Mark my words." Elliott arched an eyebrow. He glanced at his watch again.
"Go! I'll drop the file off tomorrow morning." I flicked my fingers at him. He grinned and squeezed my arm.
Ascend (The Vampire Destiny Series Book #4) Page 18