Dirty Professor

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Dirty Professor Page 14

by North, Paige


  “This guy is the classic womanizer,” Kait said. “He dates, and discards, one after another. But what goes on behind closed doors? That’s what Crush is going to find out. I want to know everything about him, and not just boring things like how he takes his coffee and if he snores. I want to know how he treats these women. Does he bother acting like a gentleman? Is he boring? Selfish? Does he have something to say? Is he more than just good looks and loads of money? How big is his dick?”

  Everybody burst into laughter, and I tried to chuckle appreciatively, as I felt my face flush yet again.

  “Everyone in L.A. wants to date this guy,” said Renee. “You said so yourself. But how does anyone get that date? How are we going to infiltrate this guy’s world and get him to take one of us out on a date?”

  “Multiple dates,” Bethany said, and when Alexa gave her a look, she said, “No, seriously. You can’t write an exposé off of one date.”

  “Yeah, not to mention the fact that there’s no way Leo Armstrong is going to date a journalist,” Alexa said. “A celebrity dating a journalist would be like a compulsive eater dating a chef. Leo would never trust a writer, and so we’re shot in the foot before we even get started.”

  “Plus,” Renee said, “how do we get that first meeting?” she asked to Kait. “Honestly, if I knew where to bump into Leo Armstrong I’d be there right now.”

  “I’m not saying this is going to be easy,” Kait said. “But I’ve put a lot of thought into it and I have a plan. One of the first things we’ll do, as Alexa brought up, is have you use a false name and occupation. Leo Armstrong can’t know he’s dating a writer at Crush magazine. What I still don’t have, though, is the undercover agent who’s going to do this gig.” She looked around the room at the six of us who made up the City Living section of the magazine. I’d been hired as the voice of The New Girl, the magazine’s “fun, flirty” column about getting adjusted to L.A. life. And believe me, I had a thousand ideas because L.A. is worlds apart from Maine, and I don’t just mean the three-thousand miles, either.

  Kait looked around the room at all the women and I noticed, with some relief, that she didn’t look at me. Obviously I’d never get this assignment—it was a big gig, and she’d want one of her seasoned writers on the job.

  “Kait, I’ll just go ahead and say I’d love the job,” Bethany said, sitting up straight. “I’ve got lots of experience under my belt, and I really think my piece on dating older men set me up for this type of story.”

  “Leo Armstrong is only twenty-seven,” Alexa said. “Besides, with my background in theater, I could really play the part because isn’t that what undercover is—playing a role? Kait, I could do this, no problem. And you once said my stories were the easiest to edit because they were so clean—grammatically speaking, of course.”

  Bethany shot Alexa a look, and just like that, it looked like the two besties had pitted themselves against each other.

  “But I have more journalism experience,” Bethany said.

  “Writing restaurant reviews for a local Orange County free magazine?” Alexa said. “Please. Kait, honestly, I know I’d be great for this if you’d just…”

  “And so will I, I’ll be better—”

  “Girls,” Kait said, holding up a hand. “Easy on the sales pitch. I’m not making any rash decisions here.”

  “Look at these pictures,” said Renee, “and all the women he’s been with.” She took two, and held them up. “There are eight here, and more on the Internet that I didn’t pull. He clearly has a type. Out of all of us, there is one person who seems like his exact type. It’s her.”

  The room was quiet, and when I looked up I realized Bethany had been speaking to me. I even pointed to myself and said, “Who—me?”

  I felt my pulse beginning to pound increasingly faster.

  “She’s right,” Kait said, really examining the photos. She picked up a photo of Leo riding bicycles with a brunette in Manhattan. “Looks just like her.” Her eyes widened. “The bone structure, the lips, the eyes…”

  “I don’t believe this,” said Alexa.

  I saw only a passing resemblance to the beauty in the photo, and that was mostly due to the long dark hair. And she probably wore extensions anyway.

  Suddenly, all eyes were on me. And I laughed. A stupid, sputtering laugh.

  “Well, I,” I began. “I mean, of course I’m up for whatever you want,” I said to Kait. “But I’m sure you want someone with more experience. Either of you guys would be better than me,” I said to Alexa and Bethany, who looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  Kait fixed her sharp eyes on me and said, “When I hired you, you told me you were a hard worker who was willing to do whatever was best for the magazine.”

  “I know but...”

  “And we’ll be there for you,” Kait said. “I’ll be there for you. I’ll be your direct editor on this story and will help you through it.”

  “Kait, you can’t be serious,” said Bethany. “She just got here. From Maine. And you’re going to trust her with this? No disrespect but that’s crazy.”

  Bethany was right—it was crazy. Yeah, the writing and investigative part of it frightened me, but in a good sense. It’d be a challenge but I wasn’t afraid of a challenge. After all, I’d packed up my life and moved all the way out here knowing exactly zero people. What worried me the most was Leo Armstrong. The intimidation of this guy came right off the glossy photos scattered across the table. I could handle the writing—but could I handle the subject?

  They wanted me to date this big celebrity, and dating was far from my strong suit…

  “No, Renee is right,” Kait said. “Sophie looks the part. She’s a good writer or I wouldn’t have hired her. And I think her innocence will lend itself well to the subject. He’d never guess a sweet little New England girl is out to get him.” The look in Kait’s eyes made it clear that she was living for the day she busted Leo Armstrong. It made me squirm in my seat. That and the fact that—was this really happening? Was she going to make me do this job?

  “She’ll need a makeover, in the very least,” Alexa said.

  “Not to mention wardrobe,” Bethany said, looking me down.

  “Good thing we have entire sections of this floor dedicated to fashion and beauty,” Kait said. “With the right makeup and hair and clothes, we can make Sophie look like Leo’s dream girl.” And then, after thinking some more, she looked at me and said, “Congratulations, Sophie. You just received your first assignment.”

  “Lucky girl,” said Renee.

  “Unbelievable,” muttered Bethany.

  In my head I knew they were both right. I was lucky, and it was completely unbelievable. It was also totally out of my league.

  Chapter Two

  By the next day, Kait had gathered up even more photos of Leo Armstrong and his ex-girlfriends and had them posted all over her wall. She called me into her office, and when I stood in the doorway, she was staring at them with Alexa and Bethany sitting in the chairs in front of Kait’s desk.

  “They’re right,” she said, without turning to look at me. “You are most definitely his type.”

  “Look, Kait, I’ve been thinking,” I began. I’d spent the whole sleepless night thinking and not much else. This was crazy. I couldn’t do this assignment. I’d blow my so-called cover in the first three minutes. I felt nauseous and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I’d never make it though. “I just don’t think I can pull this off.”

  Finally, Kait turned to look at me. Her eyes were a hard gray blue, and when she spoke there was no hesitation in her voice. “You’ll do it, or you’ll find somewhere else to work.”

  “I told you Kait,” said Alexa. “She’s not qualified. She’s going to blow it.”

  “I’m telling you, I can do it,” said Bethany.

  “Sophie is doing it. I have a feeling, and I always trust my gut,” Kait said with finality. “Now let’s get her fixed up.”

  We went to the fashion edito
r’s section, where her office was basically inside the massive closet where all the samples from designers were held. Everything from jeans and dresses to every kind of accessory and shoes, shoes, shoes galore. I wasn’t that into clothes, but even I was impressed with the loot.

  “She’s got a great figure,” said Mel, the fashion editor. She dug through the closet, holding up dresses to my frame for quick assessments. “But these might be a little snug for her.”

  “Even better,” Kait said. “Put her in the yellow and accessorize.”

  They all stood around the fashion closet while I held the dress and shoes Kait had chosen for me with the help of the fashion editor.

  “Now all you have to do, darling,” Kait said, “is put the clothes on.”

  I felt like an idiot, but at least Mel shot me a sympathetic look. I didn’t know if Kait was always so curt, or if it was me who brought it out in her. As I stood there in that closet full of gorgeous designer clothes—most of which weren’t even in stores yet—I should have been having the time of my life. Instead I felt like a kid raiding a woman’s closet—an unwelcomed kid.

  Next stop was Rebecca, the beauty editor’s office. Bethany and Alexa were there as well, hovering and waiting for me to back out, it seemed. As I watched, Rebecca went through her supply of beauty products that made Sephora look like a starter store. Meanwhile, Kait filled me in on what was about to happen—how I would get in with The Panty Dropper.

  “Bethany, Alexa and I came up with a backstory last night,” Kait said. I wondered why I wasn’t involved in it, but then again, when I left the office I sort of ran out of the building with the hopes that my first day had all been a dream. A very terrible, horrifying dream. “You are no longer Sophie Scott. You are Sophie Adams, and you’re an aspiring actress. My husband, who is a casting agent, got you an audition today for Epix’s new action film. Something called Destruction Overload,” she said, checking her notes. “Just another mindless shoot-em-up movie, same schlock Armstrong always does. The role you’re going for is Grace, who is the wife of a Navy colonel held hostage by terrorists.”

  “Of course the wife is like thirty years younger than the Naval colonel,” said Bethany, rolling her eyes.

  “Here’s the page you’ll be reading from,” Kait continued. “The scene you’re reading is Grace pleading for sympathy from her captors.”

  She handed me a page from a script—a real movie script, something I’d never seen before—and my pulse raced. Going undercover was bad enough, but I’d have to actually act as well?

  “Don’t look so green,” teased Alexa. “Remember, it’s all a role. All for the article. Just act, and you’ll do fine. We hope,” she added.

  Rebecca had wrangled my long hair into soft, beachy waves. And even though she’d put what felt like a ton of makeup on my face, when I looked in the mirror it looked fresh and minimal. My skin glowed like the surface of the moon.

  But I didn’t see a beauty. I saw a frightened girl from a small town in New England.

  “I don’t know what makes you all think I can do this.”

  “You’ll have to prove that you can,” said Bethany.

  “Think of the great story you’ll get if this actually works,” Alexa said. “We’d all kill for this assignment. Not just going out with Leo Armstrong, but exposing him for what he really is. So don’t complain. Just do your job.”

  “She’s right,” Kait said, looking at me in the mirror before us. “Don’t forget the goal, Sophie. To expose Leo Armstrong for the womanizing bastard that he is. Now,” she said, pulling my long hair back and draping it over one shoulder. “You’re ready to meet him.”

  Chapter Three

  I tried my best to tug up the plunging neckline of the yellow dress Kait had chosen for me but it wouldn’t budge. The girls were definitely out today.

  “Don’t blow it,” Kait had said before I left, and I wondered if she meant the acting or the story.

  I walked into the offices where the auditions were being held. I handed over the paperwork Kait and her crew had created for me and waited my turn in a hallway full of women—all of whom looked like they could easily be models and actresses which, I supposed, they were. I hadn’t lived in Los Angeles for long, but I was quickly learning that the world was full of beautiful people, and most of them lived here. No way would I stand out to someone like Leo Armstrong. I decided to just try my best, and see what happened.

  I tried to study my lines but my hands shook and the chill of the hallway made me shiver. Or maybe it was just my nerves.

  “Sophie Adams! You’re up.”

  I stood on teetering heels and followed a woman in baggy black pants and Chuck Taylors through to another room. There was long table at the back where three people sat closely talking—two men and a woman. A camera on a tripod was positioned on the side and a man in a blue workman’s overall sat eating a sandwich in the corner.

  “Here’s your mark,” said the woman. I stood where she pointed and tried to take a deep breath.

  “This is Sophie Adams,” the woman announced to the three at the table. “Basically no experience.” She handed them my one-sheet.

  “Another virgin,” muttered the man at the center. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “You done any work at all, taken any classes?” the woman at the table asked. “The Groundlings maybe?”

  “Sorry, the what?” I had no idea what she was talking about, but the deep sigh she gave me told me I should have.

  “I’m going to read off you, sweetie,” said the woman who brought me in.

  I was confused for a moment because the character in the scene was a man, but I took a deep breath and looked down at my lines. When I looked back up, the man in the center of the table looked up at me, and I froze. There sat Leo Armstrong, his clear blue eyes piercing me from across the room.

  “When you’re ready.”

  I fumbled with the script, a wrinkled mess in my sweaty hand. I began. “Puh-Please. Um…my boyfriend—husband is very…powerful.” I tugged on my dress, feeling as if the heat had been turned up in the room. I looked at the table before me and realized Leo Armstrong was watching me intently, the weight of his eyes practically physical from across the room. I tried to plow forward, woodenly reciting the lines. “I mean, a powerful man. My husband is a very powerful man. He will do what you need—want. Get you what you want. Um.”

  “What I want is for your husband to realize the grave mistake he’s made by crossing me,” said the woman flatly, reading the lines against me.

  Leo Armstrong’s eyes had me locked in place. He didn’t blink or look away, and I realized I couldn’t either. “You don’t want to do this,” I said, and realized I was still looking at him instead of my scene partner. I quickly looked toward the women. “Um, like, I beg you.” I cursed myself under my breath.

  “Peggy,” Leo said, standing up from the table with one swift, graceful movement. “Let me take over. I’ll read with her. Maybe that’ll relax her.” Watching him move toward me, I felt like my legs would buckle beneath me. He strode across the floor in sure strides, never taking his eyes off me. If I was going to make it through this audition, I couldn't do it while looking at him. I wasn’t sure I could breathe while looking at him.

  When he stood before me I looked down at the floor, seeing only his highly polished leather oxfords and dark slacks.

  “Start from the top?” he asked, his voice deep and assured. I nodded yes. “When you’re ready,” he reminded me.

  I cleared my throat and began again. “Please. My husband is a very manly power. Powerful man. Sorry. Um, a very powerful man he will get you whatever you want please.”

  There was a pause before Leo said, “Begging won’t help.”

  “I’ll beg or plead or do whatever just please let me go let me go please let me go.”

  Even though I was saying the lines like a robot, I meant them—I wanted out of there. Immediately. My breath was coming in short gasps and my head was begin
ning to spin. I wanted to say the stupid lines as quickly as possible so I could turn and run out of the room and never look back—maybe run all the way back to Maine.

  “I think we’ve seen enough, Leo,” said the woman at the desk. “Thank you, Sophie. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, and turned to leave. Before I could, Leo took my wrist, stopping me. I looked at his hand, smooth and lightly tanned, his fingers easily circling my small wrist.

  He leaned in slightly and said, “A little advice? Eye contact is a good thing.” His thumb ran across my wrist. “Okay?”

  I turned my eyes up to look at him, so close I felt the walls closing in. Now I could finally see it all, everything that even the best telephoto lens couldn’t pick up—the sharp lines of his face, the smooth skin of his cheeks, and his lips, full and gorgeous. I had to remind myself of the lies those lips told and the hearts they broke. With heat prickling my face, I turned to leave just as the next girl walked in. Taller, thinner and more beautiful than anyone had a right to be.

  “Leo, this is Amber Hastings, also reading for the role of Grace. Sophie, thank you, we’ll call you,” Peggy said to nudge me on my way. I looked toward the others at the table, and noticed the guy in the corner eating his sandwich laughing softly.

  As I left I heard someone say, “Isn’t there some vetting process in place? Why are we wasting our time on these amateurs?”

  I made my way through the door, brushing shoulders with the girl going in. I wanted to take off at a full sprint, putting as much distance behind me as I could from what was surely the end of my short career in journalism. One thing was clear—I’d blown it.

  Chapter Four

  “I promise, you’ve never seen anything like this,” I said to Ava Marie, my roommate, later that evening. The audition was late in the day so I’d gone straight home afterward. “It was like I didn’t even speak English. I didn’t get one line out correctly. And I heard them making fun of me on the way out.” I bit into another nacho cheese chip with plans to finish the entire bag.

 

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