by De-Ann Black
‘Vaughn’s my agent,’ Bradley said, shattering my assumptions. ‘He’s one of the top in the industry.’
I realised I was still holding Vaughn’s hand, or perhaps he was holding mine. I let go.
‘What did you come as?’ Bradley asked Vaughn.
Vaughn pulled a fake gun from his jacket pocket. ‘I’m a secret agent.’
‘Excellent,’ said Bradley.
A snowman trundled past. ‘Thawed out, he’s the producer of my next movie,’ said Bradley.
The snowman gave us a nod and toddled on.
‘Have you read over the new script?’ Vaughn asked Bradley.
‘Yes . . .’
‘What do you think of it?’ said Vaughn.
Bradley sighed. ‘It’s lacking any real depth. It could do with a rewrite.’
Vaughn nodded.
Bradley looked at me. ‘Have you done any script doctoring?’
‘Eh, a little bit, mainly for stage plays back in Ireland. And one full length screenplay.’
‘I’d like you to read over the script. It’s science fiction, lots of action. See what you can do with it,’ said Bradley.
I agreed, thinking it was more of a favour, which I was happy to do.
‘How long will it take you?’ Bradley said, sounding as if it was urgent.
I glanced at the time. The evening was young. ‘Hmm, about four hours.’
Bradley’s eyes widened.
‘Okay, how about three hours,’ I said, thinking he wanted me to work faster.
Vaughn burst out laughing.
My heart started to race as I wondered if I could somehow do it quicker. Working at the newspaper office I was used to meeting crushing deadlines. After a while, writing everything at speed became natural. I got used to the pace of it. There was no time to dwell on it, and no place for excuses. As a journalist, if I didn’t have an editorial ready when Royce was waiting for it, this could cause chaos for the paper. Basically this couldn’t happen. I had to meet the deadlines, every one of them, or I was out of the game. It was that simple.
Bradley smiled at me. ‘Three hours? I was thinking three days or even three weeks.’
‘Well, if you’re looking for a total rewrite then yes, three days or more, but to give it the once over, crisp up the dialogue, then I can have it done by the end of the night.’
Bradley was all fired up with enthusiasm. ‘What would you need?’
‘My laptop and somewhere quiet. No interruptions and let me get on with it.’
‘You’d really give up the party to work on the script?’ said Vaughn.
‘Yes, I’m more used to working than I am to partying.’
‘Somewhere quiet?’ Bradley mused.
‘That would be my house,’ said Vaughn.
‘Exactly,’ said Bradley. ‘Vaughn’s house is a haven of calm and genteel behaviour.’
And so I ended up at Vaughn’s house.
We drove there in minutes in Vaughn’s car, a luxury saloon that smelled of expensive leather and money. There were no sticky finger marks or signs that kids had ever set foot in it, and I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. The fact that I was trying to figure out if Vaughn was single or married with kids, bothered me. What was I thinking? I put my errant thoughts down to the recent craziness, which was about to include upgrading a movie script in the house of one of the main movers and shakers in the film industry. I could’ve been home baking cakes, or out running with the paparazzi. How strange my life had become.
I liked Vaughn’s house as soon as I saw it. It was a traditional mansion rather than the modern style of Bradley’s. Lots of trees protected the property from prying eyes, again unlike Bradley’s whose house was open to view. I liked it even more once I stepped inside. It was old money, classy, rich woods, burgundy, golds, deep pile carpets and sumptuous sofas. Table lamps gave a warm glow to the lounge, and Vaughn lit the fire that was set in the fireplace. The house was already mildly warm, though perhaps it was my temperature rising every time Vaughn came near me.
Vaughn’s voice was as rich and deep as his surroundings.
‘Will this suit you? Can you work in here?’
‘This is ideal.’
‘My office is through there. Give me your e–mail and I’ll send you a copy of the script.’
He sent the script in minutes, and came back with a pot of coffee and biscuits which he put down on a table near the fire. ‘Call if you need anything.’
And then he left me to get on with the writing.
I opened the e–mail on my laptop and read the script’s page count. One hundred and twenty pages. I could do this. I could.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and started work on the script. I put all thoughts of Vaughn out of my mind and concentrated on the writing. Nothing else.
Three hours later I was finished.
‘You may not agree with what I’ve done with it, but there was a major flaw in the storyline. I changed it around which sorted out quite a few other problems, and I sharpened up the dialogue.’
Vaughn’s pale grey eyes studied the first few pages of the script on my laptop. He leaned close, not intentionally making my heart race, but that’s the effect he had on me.
‘This is great, Phred. A first–class job. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘You’re welcome.’
He looked at me and smiled, and for a moment, I thought he saw me in a different light. Not the journalist or the paparazzi or the magnet for trouble, but the way a man looks at a woman — that spark, that indefinable something.
‘Shall we go?’ he said.
I closed my laptop. ‘Yes.’
Flurries of snow swirled around me when Vaughn opened the front door.
His car was parked in the driveway and he shielded me with his body, wrapping his arms around me while I held tight to the laptop and made a dash for the car. He opened the passenger door and I jumped in. Vaughn ran round and got into the driver’s side. He shook the snow from his hair.
‘You’ll be able to build a snowman,’ I said, looking out the window at his garden which was covered in a thick layer of snow.
The comment was out before I could stop it, and I’m sure it made me sound really childish, but I loved the snow and half the fun was being able to build a snowman.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever built one,’ he said, starting up the car, turning the heater up, and driving off.
‘You must think I’m silly,’ I said.
‘Not at all. I think you’re very natural. I find that refreshing — and so does Bradley. I can see why he likes you.’
I blushed.
‘You seem to like him,’ he said.
‘I do. Bradley’s great.’
‘He is. I’m his agent, but we’ve been friends for years.’
We arrived back at Bradley’s house where the party was in full flow. He couldn’t wait to see what I’d done with the script. We went through to his office that was all cream and white, and I e–mailed it to his laptop.
‘Phred’s worked her magic on the script,’ said Vaughn. ‘From what I’ve read so far, I think you’ll like it.’
Bradley was already lost in reading the script. We left him to it and went to get something to eat at the buffet.
Heading to the buffet, I noticed that many of the women at the party were beautiful, some of the top models, celebrities and movie stars. I could never hope to compete, and I honestly didn’t want to. Being high maintenance was never one of my ambitions.
‘Are you hungry?’ said Vaughn.
‘Starving. I missed breakfast, lunch was a blur, and didn’t have time to cook dinner before coming here.’
‘Well, make sure you have something to eat now,’ he said, helping me select from the delicious buffet. I thought his manners were impeccable.
‘Would you like anything else?’ he said.
‘Can I have a slice of cake too, please?’ I said.
‘Yes, which one?’
‘The on
e with the white icing. It looks like birthday cake.’
‘Is it your birthday?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘It’s definitely one day in November.’
Vaughn frowned. ‘Why don’t you know what date your birthday is?’
‘I was abandoned when I was a baby, so I was brought up by the authorities. The only thing I know for sure is my name and that I was born in November.’ I wasn’t looking for sympathy, just cake.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you choose a date in November?’
‘Because it could be the wrong date, and then I’d never celebrate the real day. So I have some sort of cake each day in November. Yesterday I had an iced doughnut. The day before that a cupcake. And I bake my own cakes when I have the time. It’s become like a tradition, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to have any cake today.’
‘I’ve never met anyone like you,’ he said.
I smiled, and we sat down to enjoy our food when the snowman (producer) waved Vaughn to come over.
‘Excuse me,’ Vaughn said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
I heard the snowman say to Vaughn, ‘She rewrote the script? This evening? If she can upgrade at that rate, I’m hiring her.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ said Vaughn.
‘Do that. Seriously. I have several projects where the scripts need doctored. I assume you’re handling her?’
‘Yes,’ said Vaughn.
I almost choked on my salad. Now I had an agent? Though maybe Vaughn was saying this to appease the producer? I couldn’t possibly be on Vaughn’s exclusive list of clients. Could I?
‘Set up a meeting. I’d like to talk to her when I’m not dressed as a snowman,’ the producer said.
Vaughn nodded, and the snowman trundled off again.
When Vaughn came back I pretended I hadn’t heard anything.
Bradley bounded over to us and sat beside me on the sofa. ‘I love it! I love what you’ve done with the script. Sorting that part of the storyline has made a world of difference to my character. I’ve had a quick skim of the script, but it’s great. I’ll read every bit of it tonight after the party.’
‘I’m pleased you like it,’ I said.
He handed me a cheque. ‘This is for you.’
I gasped when I saw the amount. ‘Ten thousand dollars?’ I gave it back to him. ‘No, no, I can’t take this.’
‘Why not? You’ve earned it.’
‘I didn’t think I was working for you. I only did it because…I thought we were becoming friends.’
Bradley and Vaughn were stunned.
‘You did this out of friendship?’ Bradley said, sounding as if this was a completely alien concept.
‘Yes. I wasn’t looking for any money. I did it to help you. I thought you needed it.’
Bradley glanced at Vaughn, who registered the same level of disbelief.
Bradley’s eyes welled up. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.’ And then he gave me a huge hug. When he finally let go of me he added, ‘We are friends, Phred. You and me, we’re definitely friends.’
We smiled at each other.
He pressed the cheque back into my hands. ‘But, as your friend, I really want you to take this, okay? It’s for your time and expertise. If the script is used in production, you’ll be paid a further amount and be credited as one of the writers.’
I was still reluctant. The money was great, but I’ve never liked taking payment for something that I thought was done freely.
‘Listen,’ said Bradley. ‘I want you to take it. The money will come out of the movie budget anyway.’
Vaughn nodded. And Bradley put the cheque in my evening bag.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘Right,’ said Bradley, ‘Let’s dance.’ He went to pull me up but Vaughn intervened.
‘Not until she’s had her birthday cake,’ said Vaughn, smiling.
‘It’s your birthday, Phred?’ Bradley said, his face lighting up with enthusiasm.
‘Maybe,’ I said.
Vaughn explained about me eating cake every day in November.
Bradley thought this was brilliant. ‘You gotta love her,’ he said to Vaughn.
Vaughn gave me a smile that almost made me melt. ‘Definitely,’ he said, gazing right at me with those stunning grey eyes.
So we all had cake and enjoyed the party. I danced with Bradley, and then as the music slowed, Vaughn cut in.
Bradley went off to dance with a woman who was slated to co–star with him in his next movie. There were already hints of a romance. Velvette was now part of his past.
‘There’s a producer who’d like to meet you, Phred,’ said Vaughn.
I felt comfortable in his arms as we slow danced, as if I fitted into him.
‘He wants me to set up a meeting. Are you up for that?’
‘Is this about the scriptwriting?’ I said, knowing it was.
‘Yes, he’s got several scripts that he’d like you to rewrite.’
My mind was ticking over the possibilities.
‘You’d be extremely well paid. I’d handle the contracts for you.’
I knew how agents worked. Vaughn would get a cut of my fee.
He must have read my thoughts. ‘I won’t be taking any payment. The money will be all yours.’
All I could say was, ‘Why?’ I mean, what was the catch?
‘I don’t need the money. It’ll kick start you into the industry. What do you say, Phred?’
‘Pinch me, I’m dreaming?’
He laughed.
‘But I’m working for Royce. I don’t know that I’d risk walking away from the newspaper on the strength of rewriting the scripts. Perhaps I could do both, to begin with, until I find some security?’
‘Very wise, and I’d advise you to do that.’
‘It’s becoming a blizzard out there,’ someone said. People were hurrying to leave the party.
‘I think I’d better go before it gets any heavier,’ I said.
‘You can’t drive home in this,’ Bradley said, suddenly back beside us again.
‘My car can handle it.’
I put my bolero on, picked up my laptop, thanked Bradley, and hurried outside. But then I felt Vaughn lift me up and carry me to my car. As I wasn’t dressed for a snow storm, I was grateful for his chivalry. Vaughn felt strong, very strong, with lean muscles under his suit. He shielded me as I got into the car.
‘Drive safe.’
I nodded, started up the car, flicked the headlights on and cleared the snow from the front and rear windscreens with the wipers. The heater churned out warmth, and I drove off, blending into the stream of other cars leaving the party. I saw the solitary figure of Bradley standing on the first floor balcony watching people leave. Of course, a number of guests stayed overnight.
I arrived home, my thoughts rewinding the events of the evening. The apartment was cold, but the cheque was burning a hole in my bag. I flicked the heating on, turning it up for extra warmth, knowing I could afford to do this.
I hung up my dress, washed my make up off, made myself a cup of tea, and took the laptop with me to bed. Sitting cosy under the duvet, I searched the Internet for information about Vaughn and Bradley.
Vaughn was single, no messy entanglements with women, no children. He was from money, brought up in Hollywood, parents were investors/movie producers. Vaughn had acquired some of the top actors and writers in the business along with a lot of respect. He had more money than Bradley who was one of the leading A–listers. Vaughn had a reputation for being a serious natured businessman. On the flip side, he was considered to be quite a catch and totally luscious. I had no way to confirm the former but I agreed with the latter. Bradley was known as a will–o’–the–wisp who threw great parties and had numerous entanglements with women. He’d made a string of science fiction action movies, all of them box office successes, though he’d never been n
ominated for any acting awards. If even some of this was true, Bradley was what I thought he was, and Vaughn was what I hoped he’d be. Not that I had a snowball’s chance of dating Vaughn, but a girl can dream can’t she?
Watching the snow falling outside my window, I snuggled down under the duvet to get some sleep. I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt a long way from home, from Dublin. Would I ever go back? I wasn’t sure. In fact, I wasn’t sure about anything. I felt as if everything was going to change, and nothing would ever be the same again.
Chapter Six
Building A Snowman
‘You’ve got an agent now?’ Royce said. ‘Vaughn is one of the top agents in the business. Doesn’t he represent Bradley?’
‘Yes, that’s how we met, at the party last night.’
We were in his office. I didn’t tell him I’d rewritten the script or about the ten thousand dollars. He wasn’t interested anyway.
He glanced at my white fluffy hat that I’d worn this morning to look different but made no comment.
‘Did you take the camera with you?’
‘Yes, but —’
‘What pictures have you got for me?’
‘No pictures. I was a guest at the party.’
He shook his head. ‘And what the hell do you need an agent for?’
‘For my scriptwriting.’
He shook his head again and sneered. ‘Everyone’s got a script they’re trying to sell. You haven’t a hope in hell. Not even if you flash your tits at them.’
‘Well, isn’t that just grand.’
He handed me four assignments. ‘Work on these today, and I’ll have some more for you tonight.’
‘This is paparazzi work. Why do you need me to do these? Your paps can handle them.’
‘I want you to do it.’
‘I told you I wasn’t doing any more paparazzi stuff. What about my regular editorials and features?’
‘I’ve farmed them out to the other reporters — for the foreseeable future.’
‘So you’re giving me no choice. If I don’t do the paparazzi work, you don’t have any other work for me.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like this, Phred. You’re great at the paparazzi work.’
‘I’m twenty¬–eight years old. I don’t want to be starting out as a paparazzo.’