by Sarah Bailey
I could feel my blood start to boil. Who was this condescending bitch? It was so obvious she was trying to make me feel small. I narrowed my eyes at her. This time when she smiled, I noticed that her lipstick was smeared all over her front teeth. I sighed to myself. I wasn’t going to be a bitch back. “You’re bleeding,” I said.
Her face became alarmed. “What do you mean? Where?”
I pointed to my teeth. “Yours are all red. Fire engine red, to be precise.”
She looked confused for a moment, then, angry. “That was bitchy,” she said, rubbing at her front teeth.
I looked at her in disbelief. “Actually, I was just trying to be helpful. You know, save you from embarrassment.”
She scowled at me. “Whatever,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me and turning to go.
“Thanks for stopping by!” I said, imitating her sugar-sweet smile. She stormed off. I chuckled to myself, and shook my head. I guess I’d just met the office bitch. So much for making friends with all of my colleagues.
***
At six thirty I was still sitting at my desk, going through the slush pile. I’d finished everything else, all the ‘important stuff,’ but I was determined to at least make a dent in that crazy pile of paper. I’d read about three girls who turn into witches and take revenge on the mean girls at school, pitched as Harry Potter meets, you guessed it, Mean Girls. Pass. At least I got a good laugh at a totally inappropriate Shakespeare reference. I also rolled my eyes at a story about a boy and a man who switch bodies. Even the dialogue in that one was a total rip off of the movie Big.
By seven-thirty, I had a huge headache, and felt like gouging my eyes out, plus I was hungry and irritable. I’d made it through fifteen screenplays and was determined to make it to twenty before calling it a day. At eight o’clock, Paul walked by my desk and gave me a concerned look. “Take it easy,” he said. “You don’t want to burn out. It’s only your first day.”
I gave him a wan smile, my eyes probably looking totally bleary, and promised him I’d go home soon. Right when I started script eighteen I was about to throw in the towel. Then I read the first line of the script, and felt excitement bubble through me. This was promising. As was the next line. And the next. It was a spy thriller, a bit in the vein of The Bourne Series, but with a totally unique and unexpected twist at the end. I felt a jolt of excitement when I finished reading it, and could feel myself start to grin stupidly. I hastily scooped up my things, grabbed the script, and started to race out of there, ready to go home and write up a report I could have on my boss’s desk by the next day. As I exited the door between reception and the main office, I noticed a soft glow coming from one of the corner offices. I looked at the name on the door. Julian McGregor. His name alone made my stomach flutter, and my heart beat faster. I stood there for a moment recalling those magnetic, sharply intelligent eyes boring into me this morning, and felt a wild rush of heat shoot through me. I took a deep breath, and shook off the memory. He was my boss’s partner. There was no way I could go there. My career came first. I quickly exited the office, not once looking back.
Chapter 2
“Where the hell are you?” It was Angela.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot.” I rubbed my eyes and took another sip of my tea. I’d been home for the last two hours, eating greasy Chinese take-out, and writing out notes on the script. I’d been so excited about finding this gem that I’d totally forgotten about meeting Angela at the bar where she worked.
“How could you forget? I even put aside a bottle of bubbly for you.” I could hear her pouting on the other end of the line.
“Oh, Ange, that’s the sweetest. I promise I’ll make it up to you. And you’re working anyway, right? You wouldn’t have time for me even if I did show up.”
She sighed. “Alright. I’ll tell you what. I’ll forgive you if you have a good reason. Like you ran into Ryan Gosling and just finished having hot, animal sex with him all over the apartment.”
I chuckled, but felt a rush of tingling heat pass through me as an image of Julian taking me on the couch flashed through my head. “Not quite,” I said, “But something did come up.”
“What is it?” she said excitedly. “Don’t keep me in suspense. I’ve got, like, another minute to talk before I have to be back behind the bar.”
“I discovered an amazing script,” I blurted out.
“Seriously? On your first day? How lucky is that?”
“I know, right? Anyway, I’ve got to get my notes in shape to give my boss first thing tomorrow. If he decides he wants to sign the writer, then we can celebrate. Deal?”
“You bet. You’re missing out though. The place is crawling with hot guys tonight.”
Right then I heard some kissing in the background, and Angela squealing. “Stop it, babe. I’m on the phone.” My stomach immediately twisted into a knot. Ziggy. The bass player in my ex-boyfriend’s band. The ex-boyfriend who was the love of my life and cheated on me three months ago, ripping my heart into a million pieces.
“K, Ange. I’ve got to go.” More squealing. I hung up and let out a long, shuddering sigh. I knew Ange totally loved Ziggy, but every time he was around it was just another reminder of a chapter of my life I wanted to erase. Or at least properly close. As I sat there, with feelings of anger and despair and embarrassment welling up, I decided I needed a drink or two to drown my sorrows. I’m not so much into drinking alone. I know it’s a bad habit, but tonight I needed it. I grabbed a bottle of Merlot, poured out a glass, and took small sips as I consoled myself with the fact that I indeed had something major to celebrate. I’d found a nugget of gold in the agency’s trash heap. I couldn’t wait to see the look on my boss’s face when I showed him what I’d discovered.
***
“Morning, Mr. Cooper,” I said breathlessly as I rushed into his office the next morning.
He peered up at me over his reading glasses, his eyes full of curiosity. “It’s Paul. And please have a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. As I settled in, I took a look around. He had a corner office with huge windows overlooking the skyline of L.A. From up here I could see the impressive skyscrapers, a tangle of bustling freeways, and the ocean in the distance. On the one wall not made of glass, he had an abstract painting, patches of blue and white and gold done in broad strokes, suggesting the ocean at sunset. “That’s a John Zurier,” I said, pointing to the painting.
The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Quite right,” he said. “You know your art.”
I smiled back at him. “My mom’s an L.A. art fanatic.”
“So, what’s up?” he asked, giving me all of his attention.
I handed the script to him, along with my report. “I found this in the slush pile last night. It’s not just decent. It’s exceptional.”
He smiled at me, and started absently running his thumb along the edge of the pages. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because after reading tons of that horrible stuff, even the mediocre ones start to look like pure genius.”
I crossed my legs, adjusted myself in my seat and leaned forward. “I promise you this is worth your time,” I said, sounding more earnest than I intended to.
His eyes started to twinkle with amusement. “I admire your confidence. And based on your resume, it’s safe to say I trust your instincts.” He adjusted his reading glasses, then thumbed through the pages of the script again. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I have some free time this morning. I’ll go through this and tell you what I think after lunch.”
I couldn’t help it. I started beaming. “Great!” I said, sounding like the over enthusiastic newbie that I was. I quickly got to my feet and headed over to the door. “I’ll have those meeting notes typed up for you before lunch.”
As I exited his office, I heard him chuckle softly behind me.
***
“Hey there.”
I looked up from my computer screen, and felt a jolt of surprise at seeing
Amanda, who’d I’d already dubbed as the office bitch, standing there. Today she had on a black, V-neck Calvin Klein dress, with a huge purple jem hanging on a silver chain around her neck. Her feet were clad in black Mary Janes. I had to admit, she looked good. The dress really complemented her tall, thin frame. “What’s up?” I said.
She bit her lip, once again smearing lipstick all over her front teeth. “Listen,” she said. “I think we got off to a bad start. How ‘bout you let me take you to lunch?”
I eyed her skeptically for a moment, then decided everyone deserved a second chance. “Sounds great,” I said, beaming up at her. “Just give me five minutes to finish something?”
She nodded, her sleek brown hair bobbing around her face. “Sure,” she said, “I’ll meet you in the reception area. We’ll go to a great sandwich place just down the street. Their chicken and roasted red pepper on a Kaiser is to die for.”
Stepping out into the street, I was hit by the sultry September heat. As we walked along the sidewalk to the restaurant, I noticed the leaves on the palm trees looked like they were on fire in the blazing noon sunlight. A hot dog vendor had a long line of customers, including a woman dressed in a fuchsia dress and six inch strappy stilettos. Walking beside Amanda, I felt short and stout. But then a group of men turned to stare at me, and Amanda started scowling.
We found a comfortable booth in the back of the restaurant, settled in, and ordered our sandwiches.
“So how are you finding working for Paul?” she asked, the icky, but now familiar sugar-sweet tone creeping back into her voice.
My guard immediately went back up. I eyed her carefully for a moment, and she returned my gaze with a hard stare. “He keeps my busy,” I said. “But I’m not complaining. I’m learning a lot.”
She tilted her head to the side, and looked at me in a condescending way. “What was that all about in his office this morning?”
So this was a fishing expedition. Well, I wasn’t going to give her anything. “I just needed some clarification on the work I was doing for him.”
“Oh?” she said. “It’s all pretty straightforward. Easy, you know? At least it is for me. Sorry to hear you’re struggling.”
I felt myself tense up, and my mouth form a thin line. She stared back at me with a look of victory on her face. “Sorry if I hit a nerve,” she said, oh-so-sweetly.
I smirked back at her. “Well I guess we can’t all be perfect.”
Her eyes narrowed as she inspected my face to see if I was mocking her. So she picked up on my sarcasm. At least she wasn’t tone deaf. I’d give her that.
“Listen,” she said, leaning forward. “Paul’s time is precious. If you keep bugging him for help, he’ll get irritated. I know all about your discoveries of screenplays while you were in school. But don’t get all high on yourself. Those were just for small competitions. This is the big leagues now, Sarah. And I have way more experience than you. So if you find something in the slush pile, pass it by me before you go to Paul. You know, so you don’t embarrass yourself.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, rage pumping through my veins. “So I don’t embarrass myself?” I said evenly, “Or so that you can steal the credit for my discovery?”
Her jaw muscle started twitching, and her hands clenched into fists. “You’re a nobody,” she said. “So get off your high horse.”
I took the final bite of my sandwich, chewed it carefully without taking my eyes off of her, then wiped my mouth clean. “I discovered three scripts that are in development at major studios. While in school. Have you discovered anyone, anyone at all?”
Her jaw muscle started twitching harder, and she bared her teeth at me, Pit bull styles. “I didn’t think so,” I said, throwing my napkin on the table, then standing up. “It’s been real pleasant,” I said. “And by the way, you’ve got lipstick on your teeth again.” With that, I rummaged in my purse for some money, threw it on the table, and strutted out of the restaurant, feeling proud of myself for putting that total bitch in her place.
***
“Sarah.” I looked up from my desk. Paul. “Come into my office,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. Walking behind him, I felt my nerve ends begin to tingle, and my palms begin to sweat. He looked so serious. I started questioning my judgment. Maybe he thought the script was horrible. Maybe my judgment was completely off. Amanda had just called me a nobody with no experience. Maybe I was overestimating my skills, my instincts.
When we got to his office, I quickly wiped my hands along my black pencil skirt, leaving streaks on the material. I mentally cursed myself. If I wasn’t pouring coffee all over myself, I was smearing sweat all over my clothes. At least the skirt was black, and the stains would dry quickly.
I settled into the seat across from Paul, and readied myself for a lecture about wasting his time. I took a deep breath, then raised my head to meet his gaze. His brown eyes held a glimmer of an expression I couldn’t quite place. At first. Then I realized what it was. Pride. His eyes were full of pride. I watched him grab a pen, and then tap it purposefully on his desk. “Sarah,” he said, his tone low, but tinged with cautious excitement. “The screenplay you found is phenomenal. I can already think of three directors who would be falling all over themselves to buy up the rights.”
He beamed at me, and I felt myself choke up a bit. I dug my nail into my thumb to keep myself from tearing up. The last thing I wanted right now was to look like an emotional basket case. I had to keep it together. Paul gave me a funny look, and then his face softened. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed Sarah. This is your first major find. If I were you, I’d be jumping for joy.” Then he grinned at me and said, “You’ve done well, kiddo.”
Something about the way he called me kiddo made my defenses go down. Paul was in his mid to late thirties, at least fifteen years older than I was, and suddenly, in the company of this seasoned, kind but stern man, it felt okay to show how much of a newbie I really was. I let out a shuddering breath and quickly wiped the corners of my eyes, all the while grinning like an idiot.
He looked at me softly again, and pushed over a box of tissues. “Get it all out now,” he said. “I need you to be totally calm and focused when you call. . .” he looked down at my report, “Jason Burns in for a meeting.”
I looked at Paul in disbelief. “I’m calling him?”
I saw a trace of impatience seep into his expression. “Yes, Sarah. You discovered him, and you’re going to set up the meeting. I want him in here tomorrow, if possible.”
I immediately got it together, and gave Paul a firm nod. “I’ll call as soon as I get back to my desk.”
His eyes crinkled slightly in a warm look of approval. “Great.”
“I won’t waste any more of your time,” I said, getting up.
“Not so fast,” he said, motioning for me to sit back down.
“I talked to Julian about the screenplay. Though we work separately, we’re still partners, and we often both sit in on interviews with new potentially important clients. So he’ll be in the meeting as well. Anytime tomorrow between two and four works with both of us. If Mr. Burns can’t come in then, another possibility is Friday, also between two and four.”
At the mention of Julian’s name, I felt my breath catch, and my stomach quiver. I shifted slightly in my seat and cleared my throat, hoping that Paul hadn’t noticed my reaction. I quickly scanned his face, but his expression was steady and inscrutable, betraying nothing.
He leaned back, and gave his desk a few empathic taps with the end of his pen. “When the meeting is set up, let both me and Julian know.” Oh, hell. I sucked in a deep breath. I was going to have to actually talk to the man? Just the thought of hearing Julian’s deep, seductive voice again made me feel giddy. How I was going to sit through an entire meeting with him and actually concentrate on what was going on was beyond me.
“Is that everything?” I asked, my voice sounding a little high pitched, possibly even a little hysterical.
Paul’s brow
furrowed slightly, but he nodded at me. I got up and headed back to my desk, still feeling a little lightheaded and a little shaky.
***
Getting off the phone with Julian’s executive assistant, I sat back in my chair and relaxed. I was too flustered earlier by the prospect of speaking to Julian to realize he obviously had an assistant who handled all of his appointments. I reached over for my coffee mug, only to realize it was empty. That was a dire situation that needed to be fixed immediately. I literally couldn’t function without coffee. I drank it the way vampires drink blood. All through college, my best friend Lisa, who had now just moved to New York to take a job at a major publishing house, used to tease that if I didn’t have my three Starbucks Caramel Machiatos a day I’d go into cardiac arrest. I have no doubt she was right.