Was Chase talking about you on….
LUCY HARRIS
UR DATING CHASE SMYTHE??
Oh no! One name popped out among all the others. Kevin Parker. My mother’s friend, and my neighbor and the guy I wanted for my own. Even though this spelled disaster all over it, Kevin was probably the first fire I had to put out. I opened his text.
12:48am
Was Chase talking about you on
Jimmy Fallon last night? Call me
when you get a second. I’d like to
have the story before your mother
calls me.
I guess he’d watched Jimmy Fallon last night and maybe seen the Twitter pictures, too. Shit! My only saving grace was that my mother watched CBS evening shows, not NBC. But, it was only a matter of time.
I exited the text app and noticed the badges on my Facebook and Twitter apps indicating that there were numerous alerts there, too. I went and checked my Twitter feed. Sure enough, the trending hashtag was #ChaseSmythesGirl. Several of my friends, and loads of people I barely knew, tagged me with my handle, @PhoebeFair, and retweeted the pic with that hashtag. That’s how the coffee girl knew to call me PhobeFair. My number of Twitter followers had gone from just under a hundred—mostly people from college, but also my brothers and cousins—to over 25,000! One popular Tweet caught my eye with a link to a Vine clip of Chase on Jimmy Fallon last night saying his heart’s been captured.
The phone app indicated that there were 28 voicemails and the email app showed that I had 74 emails waiting for me. Good God! How was I going to manage this bizarre firestorm?
“On the one hand, we could interview for a new PA for our little trouble maker today,” she said, pulling me from my not so little chaos, and waving a file folder suggesting that in that folder were applicants for the job. “But on the other hand, Chase didn’t get into any trouble yesterday, and I believe we have you to thank for that.”
“What did I do?” I didn’t think what was going on was all so good. I felt that there was a whole lot of trouble going on.
“The headlines while Dana was his PA were not as flattering as the headlines and trending that’s going on now.”
“This is good?” I asked, holding up my buzzing phone.
“Yes. A fresh love…it’s inspirational. Fake or not. And he’s only here for another two weeks. What would you say about being Chase’s assistant for the duration of his stay here in New York?” She flipped a couple of pages through the clipboard in her hand then continued, “Pretty much your only thing tomorrow is to get him to the airport for his flight to L.A. for a Jimmy Kimmel appearance on Friday night. He’s a T.S.A. PreCheck Traveler, so he just needs to be at the airport an hour before the flight. He’ll be in California all weekend with meetings with his manager and agent on Saturday. He’ll be back here in New York Monday morning. Beware, he’ll be cranky if he hasn’t slept because he’ll have had to get on the plane at two in the morning his time, but he insisted on spending the full Sunday in L.A. He shoots Monday and Tuesday afternoons, voice over work on Wednesday, and then he wraps on Thursday and goes back to L.A. on Friday, much like this week. That’s just pretty much today, and four days next week. Barely any work at all. Then you’ll be back here for the internship you’d thought you were getting. And I’ll work you to the bone then,” she said with a touch of humor.
“Me? Chase’s assistant?” I asked, my heart pounding in my ears again. This whole internship thing was getting weirder and weirder.
Valerie handed me the clipboard. I took it like it was made of flash paper and about to burst into flames, simultaneously wondering where I had left the clipboard from yesterday. I glanced down the sheet and looked at the call times and locations.
COPS UNDERCOVER: CHASE SMYTHE (DETECTIVE YOUNG)
THURSDAY, MAY 30, 2013
CALL TIME LOCATION
1:00pm – 7:00pm ON LOCATION: 5th and 82nd/ The Metropolitan Museum of Art (Wrap)
7:00pm – 8:30pm DINNER (TBD – at discretion)
8:30pm – 1:00am ON LOCATION: CENTRAL PARK EAST, LOEB BOAT HOUSE
My eyes bugged out of my head. Not just at the twelve-hour day, but also at the fact that the day was going to end at one in the morning! Last night I was dead on my feet at eight. How would I make it until one o’clock? I grabbed my coffee and started to suck down the deliciousness, and figured I’d be drinking a lot more of this today.
“Today, tomorrow and Thursday are both late start and wrap days,” Valerie said, confirming what I had read. I flipped to the next page and saw that he needed to be at JFK between eleven and noon for a one o’clock flight to L.A. “So, just making sure he gets to the airport that day.”
Just then my phone vibrated with another text; this one from Jenny. I didn’t have to open the app. The message on the screen was short.
9:12am
Are you @PhoebeFair?
I groaned and set my phone back down, then dropped my head to the desk.
“So… If you want, you can take the rest of the morning, have a nice lunch, then pick him up at his hotel to get him to set?”
“Okay?” I said, half agreeing, half wondering if I was out of my ever-lovin’ mind. Part of me was terrified to say ‘no’ for fear of losing my position if I wasn’t the agreeable intern. The other part of me was terrified to say ‘yes’ because spending the day with Chase was no easy task, to my body or mind.
My phone vibrated again reminding me that I had a text. Warily, I picked it up and tapped my reply.
9:14am
Can you meet for lunch?
11:00?
CHAPTER 11
“No fucking way!” Jenny said as we walked to a restaurant just down the street from the offices. “Is he as dreamy in person as he is on screen?”
I sighed, fighting a swoon. “Yes?” I confirmed, questioning my recollection. He was kind of an ass, just as the tabloids said, but there was a “soft part” to him. But he was a hundred and fifty percent gorgeous.
“Ugh!” she groaned loudly. “Do you think you could find a way for me to meet him? I could just be ‘in the area.’ Text me your location and… and…”
“Sure. Why not? He loves the fans, especially the lady fans.”
She grabbed me in a hug, practically hopping. I imagine if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d be just as giddy as she was. But knowing that you are somehow responsible for one of the biggest heartthrobs in the world is a daunting task indeed.
Over lunch, I brought her fully up to speed about yesterday’s events and the rest of my coming days as Chase’s PA. She hung onto every word.
“Hey, do you like Indian food? I’d love for my parents to meet you. Come with me to my parents’ house for dinner after you get Chase to the airport tomorrow?”
“Are you kidding? I love Indian food.”
“It’s done then. My place for dinner on Friday. What time are you free?”
“Well, I drop Chase off at the airport by noon. I have a feeling I’m going to need a nap after the late night tonight.”
“I’ll come by your place and pick you up after I get out of work.”
And just like that, I had plans for Friday night.
At 12:15 pm I sat in the limo in front of Chase’s hotel. Calmly as I could, I flipped to the last page on the clipboard, which had Chase’s personal information and scanned for his cell number, but made a mental note to return to this page and see if there were other things about him I should know. I programmed in the number, then texted him:
12:17pm
Your ride is here to get
you to set.
Short and sweet. Professional. That was going to be my strategy. Keep it professional. At all costs—keep it professional. I didn’t want to lose my internship, and I wanted to keep impressing Valerie. But most of all, I didn’t want to get my heart broken. This was a job. Right now, Chase was my job. Chase Fucking Smythe was my job. I tried to convince myself that this was no big deal, and I had almost reached my goal of calming the fuck
down when the Town Car door flew open and Chase charged in.
As Chase caught sight of me, his megawatt smile spread across his stunning face. He was quiet. Too quiet. As the Town Car pulled away from the hotel, he made himself comfortable, slouched next to me, looking quite sure of himself. He was dressed in a crisp white t-shirt that molded to his well-defined chest, the sleeves perfectly cutting across his impressive biceps. His dark wash jeans hugged his thighs and screamed sex. He was sitting with his legs spread wide and his…um, package… was practically on display. To say the car was filled with a crackling energy was an understatement.
Keep it professional.
He pushed back his sunglasses, propping them on top of his head. His eyes swept over me as he bit his perfect lower lip. Suddenly my fashionable skirt felt wickedly short, and my frilly top might as well have been made of transparent chiffon.
“Mmmm-mmm-MMM! How did I get lucky enough to have you for my babysitter again, PhoebeFair?” he nearly growled. Oh, God! He saw the TwitterStorm. Of course he did. It’s about him. Hell, he probably started it.
“Apparently, I have a knack for keeping you out of trouble,” I said, using my best business voice. But to have his eyes on me…? Valerie made this assignment sound so cushy and desirable. Had she ever been in close quarters with him? She was closer to his age than I was. She had to be a fan on some level no matter what stories her brother had told her.
He nodded, his eyes raking me up and down. “So, what’s the plan tonight? Burgers? Or sushi?”
Oh, this was not going to be about us being social. He was my job and I was going to do well at this. It had already gotten out of control with those pictures and his comment on Jimmy Fallon. What was his game here? Valerie’s comments from her brother slash Chase’s manager bounced around my head, as well as her thinking that Chase trending in the social media was a good thing for the network and Chase’s guest appearance for these three episodes of the new show he was a part of. And I also considered that he would be gone in two weeks. I was not about to be a plaything. I’d been down that path with Dickwad. And as much fun as a quick fling might be, and fun stories for when I grew older, “I once dated Chase Smythe…” stories for my grandkids, this job was more important, as was my decision to not get my heart broken again.
“Where ever you’d like to eat, I guess. We have an hour and a half after your location shoot and wrap back at The Met. Then you have more set work at the Loeb Boat House at Central Park.” Good girl, Phoebe. Keep it professional. And don’t fall for another jerk!
He looked me over and I swore I could feel his eyes. I desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, because the cogs were definitely turning. “Okay,” he said casually, pulling his phone from his back pocket. He started tapping away. He glanced at me once, his eyes hooded. God, those eyes would be the end of me!
As I patted myself on the back for keeping my cool, I decided to busy myself with messages on my phone. I now had more than thirty new texts waiting for replies; all about Chase and the paparazzi photos, several also mentioning Chase’s comment on Jimmy Fallon. Including two from Kevin. I’d have to call him soon. He’d be out of work in about three hours. The badge on the Twitter app now displayed “00” which could only mean that there were more than a hundred notifications. I went into the Twitter app to see what the deal and the first thing I noticed was that I now had over 150,000 followers. What? And the top tweets, from the last three minutes, were all #ChaseSmythesGirl #dinnerplans with comments from “Sushi” to “Italian” to “dump her & eat w/me.”
“What did you do?” I turned and glared at Chase.
He turned to me and grinned. “What?” he said in a childlike voice.
“Do you realize that my Twitter account has gone from a hundred followers to over a hundred and fifty thousand followers?”
“Really?” he exclaimed and grabbed my phone from my hands. He tapped and tapped. “That’s epic!”
“Look, Chase. This is a job. I know you find this to be a game, but I have to survive this internship then make it through three more years of school.”
“You think this is a game to me?” he asked, slapping his hand on his perfect chest with a thud and falling back on the seat. “Wounded. Phoebe, I thought we were friends. You’re my babysitter. If the paparazzi got it wrong…” he shrugged.
I grabbed my phone from him and plugged through the photos on Twitter and found the one of him kissing the side of my head. I flashed it at him. He nodded and winked at me. Then I found the Vine video clip and showed him saying he has a new girlfriend.
“Okay. Well, again. I never named you. If the gossip-mongers want to put those together, then…” he said, pulling his shades over his eyes and sat back into his seat with a smirk.
“Chase!” I nearly screeched, pulling his glasses off of his face. “This is my job! Not to mention I’m sick of arrogant men who feel the need to use me!”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asked. The look on his face was one of hurt. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or acted. And instantly my heart broke. I’d jumped all over him and he didn’t really deserve it.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a very…unusual past couple of days,” I started. Then the floodgates opened. “And it’s not just meeting you but then working for you and the filming sets and your fans and the paparazzi and Jimmy Fallon and waking up to my face all over the TwitterVerse and my friends’ texts and voicemails and emails and … And my ex, Danny, really hurt me, and I guess I’m still kind of pissed at the whole male population lately—”
“Whoa, hey, whoa. Calm down, babe. You don’t want to pass out,” he said, taking his sunglasses out of my hands and sliding them on top of his head again before leaning forward and taking hold of my hands. And there it was again. The electricity that had been building up in the car came together in ball of energy where our hands were joined. That electromagnetic pulse—the EMP—was all right there encasing our hands, and grew as his thumb brushed over the back of my hand. If I were about to pass out from talking, his hands clutching mine would certainly finish the job. I glanced up at his face and his violet-blue eyes bore into my cornflower blue ones. “Breathe.” He took a breath in through his nose to demonstrate to my frazzled brain, and I copied him. He held the breath a moment then he released it through his perfect mouth. I followed suit. The little breathing exercise didn’t alleviate the charged atmosphere between us, but it did keep me from passing out. I felt every bit the nineteen year old girl that I was—not the sophisticated young woman working in Manhattan for a major network.
His eyes continued to search mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by… I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “You’re a different kind of girl.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, somewhat offended. I pulled my hands from his and tried to rub away the buzzing that was still coursing over my skin. “Because I’m not falling all over you?”
“Well, for starters, yeah,” he said quietly. The corner of his mouth came up in an apologetic smile and he continued to search my face. What an ego!
The driver cleared his throat, and I noticed that the car had stopped. I grabbed the clipboard and reached for the door. Chase placed a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to look at him.
“Truce?” he said.
“You do your job, and I’ll do mine. Let’s keep it professional. Okay?”
“Deal. And hey, I really am sorry.”
I smiled, accepting his apology and I opened the car door, and stepped out looking for the film crew. I spotted them just as Chase was stepping out of the car, and then the paparazzi spotted us. In no time at all, we were swarmed and they were no longer shouting only for Chase, now they were shouting out my name!
Thankfully, a producer came over and pushed through the crowd of photogs and escorted us to the safety of a production trailer.
“Thank you and I’m sorry,” I apologized to the producer who had rescued us.
“No problem.
You might as well get used to it. Just learn to keep your head down and push through,” he said.
“Head down. Push through. Got it. Thanks.”
Fortunately the next six hours went smoothly, and the location was wrapped. There were a handful of extras on set that day and Chase chose to hang with them when the set up crew messed with the lights, mics, and cameras. I admired how easily he handled the girls who were swooning before his very eyes. He chatted, signed autographs and took selfies with them. Chase was really comfortable with the attention. And today he actually had a better time with his lines. Did he study this morning?
As we walked to the car to head to dinner, I noticed the change in temperature. The sun had gone down and the warm May day had given way to a slight chill in the night. My skirt and thin shirt did little to provide warmth. On top of that, I wasn’t really used to heels. As a college student, I’d spent my time in sneakers and dance shoes, not heels. I reminded myself that we’d be out shooting somewhere in Central Park, by water, until one in the morning and this get up wouldn’t suffice.
As we headed to the car, I thought I’d test our truce. “Chase, mind if we stop by my apartment before we eat so I can change clothes? I’m not really dressed for night shoots,” I said, indicating my skirt and heels.
“Your wish is my command,” he replied with a wink.
I hoped that the wink was just a reflex.
As we headed to Phoebe’s apartment, I thought about her in a new way. She needed space. And I wanted to give her that. She was concerned with doing a good job. There was an odd connection that even I didn’t know what to do with. I started to think it wasn’t just that she was a challenge. She was genuinely a nice girl.
Having Phoebe’s eyes on me during the shoot, and while I hung with the extras on set, I found myself wanting to impress her. I’d been phoning it in lately, and I’d been hearing it from my manager and agents. They didn’t seem to matter like Phoebe did. I wanted her to see me as a serious actor. I felt like she was going to be a tough nut to crack, and I wanted to open her wide. Okay, yes, in bed, but also I wanted into her heart. There was just something about her.
Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 Page 8