They walked side by side to the trailer where Tallie could view the dailies, and chatted animatedly about the day’s takes, as Brigitte minced along the rocky path in her towering stiletto heels.
“You need to get yourself a decent pair of shoes,” Tallie teased her with a grin. It was a comment she often made. Brigitte never wore anything but stiletto heels, as sexy as she could get them, and they looked great on her. She acted like they were running shoes.
“Like Converse maybe?” Brigitte chuckled. Tallie never wore her newer ones, but only the ones that were torn, stained, and full of holes. She could have looked as sexy and fabulous as Brigitte did if she wanted to, but it interested her not at all, and Hunt didn’t care. He loved her as she was. Her scruffy look was part of her charm, and what he admired most about her was her brilliant, creative mind. It was what Brigitte appreciated about her too. They both knew that Tallie would be recognized as one of the greatest filmmakers of her time one day.
They got to the trailer and watched the dailies together. Tallie was silent and intense, observing every minute detail. She had them stopped several times and made comments to the editors who would work on them in post-production. She had a keen eye and saw nuances that no one else did, which was what made her great. And she had a discussion with the assistant director and the editors before she left. It was after seven when she walked back to her trailer with Brigitte. Tallie looked tired but pleased.
“Are you going home tonight?” Brigitte asked her. She had an overnight bag in the trunk of her car in case Tallie wanted her to stay. She always put Tallie’s needs and plans first, and made her own around her. It never bothered her to take a backseat to Tallie’s life, which was one of the things that made her so valuable to Tallie. She was the perfect personal assistant in every way.
“I don’t know,” Tallie answered. “Did you see Hunt before you left?” She wanted to be at home with him, although she knew they wouldn’t get back to the city till nine or ten.
“He said he’d cook dinner for you if you come home, or he’ll drive out if you prefer. I told him I’d let him know.” Tallie hesitated for a minute, and realized she wanted to go home. Even if they only had a couple of hours together before she went to sleep and had to get up at four the next morning, she liked being in her own house with him, and he was a terrific cook.
“I think I’ll go back.”
“I’ll drive you. You can sleep on the way in.” It had been a long day for Tallie, it always was on location. She was used to it and enjoyed it.
“Thanks,” Tallie said, and picked up a canvas bag she had been using as a handbag for months. She had found it at a garage sale, it was meant to carry plumber’s tools, and was perfect for the scripts and notebooks she carried everywhere, to study whenever she had the time and opportunity. She was always working, and making notes of new ideas, either for the scenes she was currently shooting, or for her next film. Her mind was constantly racing at a hundred miles an hour.
Brigitte texted Hunt that Tallie was coming home, as she had promised him she would. She had made a dozen calls for Tallie earlier that day, taken care of several errands, ordered some things for Max in New York, and paid the bills. Brigitte was the most efficient person Tallie had ever met, and Hunt agreed with her. He always said that Tallie was lucky that Brigitte had the kind of personality to do the job. She was perfectly content to live in Tallie’s shadow and be her emissary to the world. And it had perks for her as well. Every time Brigitte admired some new outfit, fur jacket, or piece of jewelry, the stores gave them to her, and she gloated victoriously. It was one of the best perks of her job. Jewelers and designers sent her gifts either for Tallie, or to induce her to convince Tallie to wear their creations, which Tallie had absolutely no interest in. She was only too happy to let Brigitte keep their gifts. Brigitte was delighted to accept them and looked fabulous in everything she wore. She had even gotten a great deal on her Aston Martin, and owned a gorgeous house in the Hollywood Hills with its own pool. She lived well, and had a lot of fun being Tallie’s assistant. It had been a great blessing for her for seventeen years. And even if she came from money and didn’t need the advantages Tallie offered her, she enjoyed them anyway, and didn’t have to deal with her father and stepmother. She liked being independent of the family money, although she admitted that she had paid for her house out of her inheritance from her mother, but it had been a great investment, and was now worth two or three times what she had paid for it. Between what she had on her own, and the handsome salary Tallie paid her, along with a constant flow of complimentary gifts and perks, Brigitte lived a golden life, better than Tallie in many ways, or at least it looked that way.
Tallie was naturally more discreet, although she had grown up comfortable too, but not on the scale that Brigitte described her childhood. Brigitte went to see her family from time to time, and always complained about it when she did. She thought San Francisco was dreary, still hated her stepmother, and hadn’t gotten along with her father since he’d been married to her. Tallie had been her family, the one she really cared about, for seventeen years, and Tallie felt the same way about her. Brigitte had become the sister she’d never had, and a benevolent adopted aunt for Max, who adored her, and told her everything about her life as she was growing up, sometimes even more than she did to her mother, particularly if Tallie was busy or on location with a film.
Tallie got into the passenger seat of the flashy Aston Martin, put on her seat belt and settled back against the seat. She’d been on the set since five o’clock that morning and suddenly realized how tired she was. They had handed her new script changes just before she left, and she took them out to read them on the way, but she was exhausted as they drove off the set.
“Why don’t you just sleep?” Brigitte suggested. “You can read the changes tomorrow morning. I’ll drive you back. You don’t have to read them tonight.” Tallie was unfailingly conscientious.
“Thanks,” Tallie said gratefully. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like without Brigitte to do everything for her, and hopefully she’d never have to try. She hoped that they’d be old ladies together, and Brigitte always teased her and said that would be the case. She assured her she wasn’t going anywhere, she was never tempted to move on, or take any of the offers she frequently got trying to steal her away to work for someone else. She was quick to confirm that this was the job and employer she loved, and after so many years together, Tallie was also her best friend.
And then suddenly out of nowhere, Tallie chuckled as she glanced at herself in the mirror on the visor. “You look like you picked up a hitchhiker. I’m a mess.”
“Yes, you are,” Brigitte said, laughing as she glanced at her. “Maybe you should try combing your hair once in a while.” Brigitte added extensions to hers, which made them look even more similar. Tallie’s long mane was natural, and the big difference between them was that Brigitte’s was always combed. She couldn’t have gone to work looking the way Tallie did, but she wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. And Tallie’s work was more physically arduous, she was always climbing ladders, or riding up on cranes to get a better view of the shot. She sat for hours in the sun, without bothering to put sunblock on despite Brigitte’s dire warnings about how wrinkled she’d get. Tallie would crouch on the ground behind a camera, or lie in the dirt to see the angle better. Tallie was a workhorse in every way, but even when she looked disheveled, she was beautiful, in a natural shining way. She seemed almost lit from within. Brigitte’s looks were more studied and took far more work to maintain. Tallie would never have the patience or the interest to look that way or invest the time and effort it took.
“Thanks for driving me back,” Tallie said gratefully with a yawn. Now that she was relaxing, she realized how tired she was.
“Close your eyes and go to sleep,” Brigitte ordered her, and Tallie did what she said with a peaceful smile. And five minutes later, as they got onto the freeway to L.A., Tallie was sound asleep, as Brigitt
e drove her home.
Chapter 2
BRIGITTE SHOOK HER gently when they got to the house in Bel Air. Tallie didn’t like obvious shows of wealth, but she had a beautiful home that was simply decorated, with stark, modern open rooms, and a peaceful feeling to it. Tallie had no need for clutter in her life. She had a house in Malibu she rarely had time to use, the apartment in New York for Max, and a small apartment in Paris that she had bought with her first big success. It was something she had always wanted, although she hadn’t been there in two years, but she loved knowing she had it, and loaned it to friends occasionally. Brigitte had used it for her last vacation, and loved being there. Tallie had been in Africa on location while Brigitte had gone to Paris for a week. The perks of Brigitte’s job were nothing less than fabulous, which was what being a personal assistant was all about. You shared your employer’s life, and gave up your own to do it, and Brigitte’s own life fit easily into Tallie’s or around it. She had a date that night at ten o’clock, and if it turned out to be midnight because Tallie needed her for something, that was fine with her too.
“You’re home,” Brigitte said softly as Tallie opened her eyes. The script changes were still on her lap, unread. But Brigitte was right, she could do it in the morning. She felt refreshed after she’d slept. For a minute, she didn’t know where she was.
“Wow, I slept the whole way,” Tallie said with a grin, and looked like a kid sitting in the front seat of the Aston Martin outside her house. She still had all the pens and one pencil stuck in her hair. She added them one by one throughout the day.
“Hunt texted me and said he has dinner ready. You’re a lucky woman,” she said, as Tallie opened the door of the car.
“Yes, I am.” But they both knew that an arrangement like Hunt and Tallie’s had never been what Brigitte wanted. She liked her freedom and a variety of men, usually younger than she was, for only a short duration in her life, and most of them were actors working on Tallie’s films. She had a weakness for young actors who had the potential for behaving badly. She never kept them around long enough to give them that chance. She slept with them during the filming of the picture, and after that they both moved on. It worked for her.
“I’ll pick you up at four-thirty tomorrow morning,” Brigitte called out to her, and Tallie waved as she got to her front door. She wanted to be back on the set by six. As usual, it would be a short night, and before she could unlock the front door with her key, it was opened by a tall, handsome man with dark hair and a beard wearing an apron over a T-shirt and shorts. He kissed Tallie hard on the mouth, and the door closed.
Brigitte drove away. One of the actors from Tallie’s current movie was waiting for her at her house. She had told him where the spare key was. Tommy was twenty-six years old, and when Brigitte got home, he was naked and waiting for her in the pool.
“Well, isn’t that a pretty sight.” Brigitte smiled as she admired him, and then stepped out of her skirt, and stood there in her thong and high heels, and then she pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra. The breasts she had invested in several years before stood in sharp relief against the spotlights as the young actor gazed at her appreciatively. She had an amazing body, and made good use of it.
“Come on in,” he said invitingly, thoroughly enjoying the warm water and the prospect of a night with her. They had been having an affair for the past six weeks, during the making of the film. No promises had been exchanged and wouldn’t be. The kind of night they were about to spend with each other was all they wanted and all it would ever be. Brigitte wanted nothing more. She dove into the pool and came up between his legs, and he laughed. She was an incredible woman, and he had a great time with her. And he was hoping she’d help get him a part in another of Tallie’s films after this. She hadn’t promised, but she had implied it. And even if she didn’t, he was having a ball with her. She was one of the most important women in Hollywood, as far as he and others were concerned, she had total access and the confidence of Tallie Jones. The one thing you could never do with Brigitte was say anything bad about Tallie. Brigitte was instantly ready to kill you if you did. She was the most loyal woman he had ever met. And offered the best sex.
* * *
Hunt handed Tallie a glass of wine as she walked in. She put her canvas bag and the script down on a kitchen chair, and smiled at the great smells all around them. The kitchen led out into the garden, and they wandered out onto the deck together and sat down. She was happy to see him and glad she had come home to him instead of staying in Palm Springs, and he was happy too. He was an easygoing person, and their lives had meshed perfectly for the past four years. There was rarely any friction between them, he had never disappointed her, and she loved sharing her work with him.
“Good day?” he asked, as he took off the apron and tossed it on a chair. He was taller than she was, and slightly round since he enjoyed eating well, but he was a handsome man. He was forty-five years old, and the beard gave him a more mature look than his years.
“Very good,” she confirmed with a smile about her day. “When are you coming to Palm Springs?”
“I can’t tomorrow. I’ve got meetings. Maybe the day after. How’d the death scene work out today?” He tried to keep up on the script changes, but with Tallie there were many of them, and sometimes she altered the script as she went along. She was always sensitive to how the dialogue was working, and let her actors add something more to it, if they could. The results were often breathtaking.
“It was perfect,” Tallie said, looking pleased. “I’m starving. What’s for dinner?” He often made Japanese food for her, Chinese, and Thai. He had a gift for Asian cuisine, and French, and sometimes made Mexican on the weekends. Hunt loved cooking, and everyone devoured what he made. It was fun coming home to the surprises he prepared, and the dinner he served her that night was no exception. They spent a relaxing evening, talking and eating on the deck, and he had gotten a bottle of her favorite white wine, Corton-Charlemagne. It was like going out to dinner whenever she came home, only better, because they were alone and she didn’t have to get dressed up or even comb her hair.
He was already working on putting together their next joint venture. They would be on location in Italy for it, and he was planning to spend a lot of the time there with her. They wanted to rent a villa in Tuscany for the duration of the film. He was already lining up the cast, and working with their insurers and investors to secure the film. It was what he did best, while Tallie did the directing. And he set it all up meticulously. He had enlisted an important Japanese investor to back the film. It was easy raising money for a movie directed by Tallie Jones, but all the conditions had to be right. Hunt was great about it and as meticulous a perfectionist as Tallie.
“I think we’re all set,” he said about the Japanese investor as they cleared the table together after a wonderful meal. She had thanked him with a kiss. “The only thing he wants is an audit of our books on the project, and our personal ones as well. I guess he wants to make sure we’re both solvent and won’t run off with his money.” He was smiling as he said it. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” he asked her as they cleaned up the kitchen.
“Of course not. I’ll tell Victor Carson to give him whatever he wants.” They both knew he was a solid investor, and they wanted his money for their next film.
“He’s using some very fancy independent accounting firm, run by a couple of ex-FBI guys. I hear they’re pretty thorough, but that way everyone will be happy. We’ll have his money, he’ll know we’re honest, and we can lock everything in.” He’d been talking to all the big agents in Hollywood about who he wanted to star in it, and once they had the money, they’d be ready to move ahead very quickly with contracts.
“I’ll have Brigitte call Victor tomorrow,” Tallie said as they turned the light off in the kitchen and went upstairs to the large master bedroom with the enormous movie screen in it. They loved lying in bed and watching movies. But not tonight. It was midnight by then
, and she had to get up in four hours. She was used to living on very little sleep when she was working.
She had wanted to call Max that night, but it was too late in New York by the time she thought of it, and she’d have to call her in the morning. And then Hunt mentioned that her father had called right before she got home and he’d forgotten to tell her.
“He has to have some tests tomorrow,” Hunt told her, and she looked instantly concerned. “He said it’s nothing important, just routine stuff. He was wondering if you were working tomorrow, and I said you were.”
“I can have Brig take him, or his housekeeper Amelia,” she said thoughtfully. Her father always said that her assistant was a Hot Mama, which made her laugh. He thought Brigitte was gorgeous and the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.
“I told him I’d drive him,” Hunt said easily. “I can make the time. It’s not a big deal. He was fine with it, if that’s okay with you.”
“You’re a saint,” she said, putting her arms around him and he pulled her close.
“No, I just love you. Thanks for coming home tonight.”
“Thank you for cooking me dinner. Do you want to come to Palm Springs tomorrow night?” she asked him again, thinking that they’d have more time together without the long drive back to L.A., and the hotel they were staying at in Palm Springs was very nice, and had a terrific spa. She liked it when he came out there to spend the night with her. And sometimes it was easier for her than coming home if she had long shooting days.
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