by Ember Leigh
“I’m going to start the campaign for keeping you full-time…and kicking Bridgette out.”
“Is it even possible? You know how strange the set-up is with Bridgette. I’d love to see her contract…bet there’s some real murky stuff in there.”
“No worries. We’ll get it worked out. But I thought you should know first-hand. Anyway, you’ve gotta get down to the set. Bridgette is sick again, and we should start the day off with a little Paige Prowess, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t be Paige Alexander if I didn’t agree.”
“See, I told you this wouldn’t be a terrible idea. If we can finagle you into Bridgette’s spot, you’re only six months away from national fame via IBC’s coat tails. Paige Alexander steals the hearts of America once more, and then we’re looking at international markets. Always trust me. Always.”
“Well, I always try.”
“Get down here and show them what kind of talented vixens I like to manage.”
Excitement burbled deep in her belly as she hung up the phone, visions of success dancing before her eyes. She wasn’t made to turn down a challenge—she was made to conquer. If this unexpected—albeit initially unwanted—route was her way to make the best of a bad situation, she’d take it. Maybe she’d stop trying to wriggle out of her contract. Besides, if she left now, what about Josh?
Her thoughts screeched to a halt as if the chaperone of her mental activity had slammed a ruler against her knuckles for that one. What did she care about him? If she ended up leaving, so be it. He was just another high-powered executive with a charming smile and a body that could make gods tremble. Plus, an actually endearing side, with thoughtful comments and a heart that revealed itself to her more and more…
She shivered. Could she face him today? Josh couldn’t know she cared—even she wasn’t comfortable seeing that vulnerable side of herself. She’d rather pretend it never happened and re-seal the emotions before any more had a chance to leak.
Paige arrived on set with a firm stride and a set mind. In the distance, the ocean churned against the shore, turquoise waves cresting white that produced a dull roar she had come to enjoy. The sun was hot already, but the breeze from the water danced lightly over her.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe I could get used to this. She didn’t even have to use the City Noise app on her phone in order to fall asleep anymore. Hawaii really could be a viable long-term option.
In the make-up trailer David waited as usual, powder brush poised. “We have to make you look stunning today,” he said as she sat down. “In a fabulous new way.”
She raised a brow. “Is there something on the agenda today that I wasn’t aware of?”
David shrugged as he brushed foundation over her face. “I wouldn’t say it’s on the agenda…”
When he didn’t elaborate, she stopped him. “David? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He sighed, the hand holding his powder brush dropping to his side. “Bitchy Britches Bridgette is pissed.”
The news settled into her pleasantly. “I figured she would be. I’m sitting in for her, doing a better job than she is. Why wouldn’t she be?”
“I heard her running her mouth off this morning, and there were some very unpleasant things said.”
“Oh yeah? I thought she was sick. She shouldn’t be out and about, infecting the island.”
“She called Josh on his phone. I wasn’t even standing by him, and I got the whole sorry story. Very unladylike, if you ask me.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t expect any better from that girl. Anything interesting I should know before I go out there today?”
David uncapped a tube of lip gloss and paused as he applied a fine coat. “I heard the word bitch more times than I care to mention. But other than that, it was nothing you haven’t heard from her already. Though it sounds like she’s got Josh by the balls.”
Paige smacked her lips in the mirror and watched as David styled her hair, arranging something similar to the fancy rooster comb the day before. “I love how this is becoming a high school feud. Just what I always dreamed of for my long-term career.”
“Talking to her sometimes feels like I’m back in high school,” David murmured, pressing bobby pins into her hair.
“She doesn’t scare me. She can be as catty or petty as she wants. At the end of the day, real talent wins.” She squeezed her eyes shut as David sprayed a coat of hair spray over her head, and when the air had cleared, she smiled at him in the mirror. “But thanks for being on my side. It helps.”
He leaned close and air kissed her cheek. “How could I not be on your side?”
Paige made her way to set feeling recharged. She wasn’t sure what Bridgette was capable of doing, but in this business, things could get out of hand fast. Whatever it was, she was sure she could deal with it—she had Gary on her side, and she suspected Josh wasn’t too far away from being firmly in her court. Let her talk all she wanted.
The studio bustled with people, but Josh was conspicuously absent. She rifled through the day’s script, noting the feature chef was going to be preparing a Hawaiian version of some popular Indian dishes, and that the second half featured a ukulele-rap ensemble that had recently grown popular on the main island.
By nine a.m., Josh still wasn’t in his seat and the crew was getting restless.
She snapped her fingers at the director, motioning to the empty seat beside her. “We gonna get this show on the road anytime soon?”
“We’ve called him four times already.” He shrugged. “If the big boss wants to start late, we start late.”
Paige shifted in her seat, the familiar prickles of anxiety in her gut. She hated being stood up, in both romantic and professional environments, but even more, she hated starting late. If there was a schedule, it must be stuck to. Whether it involved filming or fondling. Right now, Josh Lambert was testing all of her limits.
Minutes crept by. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, adjusted her skirt, fiddled with her hair, reviewed the script more times than was necessary. Fifteen minutes passed and finally she threw the script down and sighed loudly.
“This is ridiculous.” She paced the set. “He knows filming starts at nine. He’s always here by eight-thirty.”
Gary scurried down the path from the hotel, his haste making him waddle more than normal. Well-worn worry lines were visible in his forehead as he approached. Something was up. When he got to the set, he dragged a hand across his forehead. “How does it reach a hundred degrees by nine a.m. every day?”
“Gary, where is Josh?”
He looked at his empty seat for a moment and then said, “He’s on his way.”
“That doesn’t explain where he’s been.”
He paused, his eyes landing on the crew members, some busy with other tasks, others tuned into their conversation. “He’s on his way.”
This was a conversation for another time with less ears involved. She huffed and resumed her pacing. “Did you tell him I don’t like to be kept waiting?”
“I don’t think I’ll have to tell him that.”
“Didn’t he think to call?”
“I’m not sure he was able to.”
“He could have sent a message, an email. We live in an age of technology. People don’t wait anymore. We know instantly what is going on.”
Gary chuckled. “I forgot what it was like to keep Paige Alexander waiting. I haven’t seen this side of you in a while.”
“Maybe we can start without him.”
“Doubtful.” He turned to the director, who shook his head in response.
The doors behind them opened and Josh breezed in, sunglasses on and his button-up ruffling in the breeze. His squared shoulders cast an intimidating silhouette, one that stole the air from her lungs.
“Thank God.” She returned to her seat and waited for Josh to sit.
He exchanged some words with the director, shook Gary’s hand, and then took a seat next
to Paige.
“About time,” she murmured, smoothing down her skirt.
“Duty called,” was all he said. He took off his sunglasses and tossed them to an assistant nearby.
Something was amiss. She was desperate to know what was going on, why he hadn’t shown up both last night and this morning but wasn’t sure how to approach it without betraying that she genuinely cared. And was genuinely hurt.
“It doesn’t hurt to call and let someone know you won’t be on time.”
“Noted.” He still wasn’t looking at her.
“It’s called professionalism, Josh.”
He didn’t respond, but she was pushing his buttons. Curiosity stormed through her body, like a child tearing down curtains and screaming until an adult would acknowledge the ruckus.
“I’m glad to see you’re so chipper today.” She ran her tongue over her teeth as she checked her appearance in a hand mirror. The director called for places.
He didn’t say anything again, and before she could poke at him anymore the countdown started. Josh’s strange mood disappeared in an instant—mark of a professional—and they were bathed in camaraderie and friendly banter, all smiles and jokes.
The first segment flowed smoothly and naturally. When they hit a break, Josh leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands.
Paige watched him, expressionless. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever is feasting on your insides today.”
He laughed half-heartedly but didn’t say anything more.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Josh’s strange vibes were affecting her much stronger than she liked to admit—she needed a chance to clear her head if she was going to spend the rest of the day next to him.
She decided to use the break in filming for a walk on the beach. He didn’t say anything as she left the building, which further stoked her disgruntled fire. So he could go from flames to ashes in less than twelve hours—that was a sign of a real jerk, if not a sociopath. Despite all the opening up he’d done, or started to do, she could sniff out the real Josh underneath: just a manipulative businessman with more mood swings than a Hollywood diva.
She wandered along the beach. The roar of the ocean drowned out most her thoughts as she dodged scuttling crabs and sharp stones on the coastline. The beauty of the area was the perfect distraction—the peaking fins of whales in the distance, the sharp upward sweep of rocky outcrops topped off with dense foliage and palms, the sparkling line of the horizon, white sands all around her. She inhaled deeply. Forget formerly-former-now-current-again jerk Lambert.
When she wandered back to set, Josh looked annoyed as she took her seat beside him. “Where were you?”
“Why do you care?”
“We’re ready to start, and you were gone.”
“Oh, like with you this morning before the first segment?”
His lips formed a thin line. “I shouldn’t have to remind you I have other duties besides sitting in this chair next to you and laughing about culinary innovations.”
His words didn’t surprise her as much as his tone. She looked over at him, the sarcasm already dripping from her pores. “Wait, you do other things here? You know, I hadn’t noticed. You never really gave me that impression.”
His nostrils flared. “You can drop the sarcasm. It’s not helpful. Just do your job.”
“My job is in the newsroom. I’m here next to you as a favor. Would you prefer I go back to the other studio? I’d be more than happy to, Mr. Lambert.” She watched him with stony eyes, eager to see where he’d take this next.
“Knock it off.”
“Don’t confuse me, then.” She feigned doe-eyed innocence and shrugged.
His thumb and middle finger found his temples and massaged. The director called for places, and tension hung thick between them as they waited to roll. Josh was steaming inside. She smoothed down her skirt, waited as make-up applied the standard coat of powder to cover the perspiration between takes, and the countdown started.
Josh’s mood lifted, and Paige followed suit. Their rapport resumed as usual; easy, friendly, and it was impossible to suspect they were anything other than stellar colleagues and possibly best friends off the set.
But she couldn’t ignore the deep simmer of irritation. Each time they locked eyes, could he see the flames there? As she sailed through the segment, smile bright and words punctuated perfectly, she stewed over what her next move should be.
The director called for a short break. While he conferred with a producer, Josh and Paige were left in a tense silence. Gary emerged from behind a camera and paced the length of the set, hands clasped behind his back. Worry lines were visible in his forehead again. Paige wanted to scream. If this were her show, she wouldn’t be in the dark, made to sit in the muck of negative energy like Wakin’ Up thrived on.
The director and producer returned and filming started once more. Josh snapped to life beside her, and before she could think twice, she muttered, “It’s good to know you have an on/off switch.”
“Better than having a bitch switch.”
Her eyes widened at his snarky remark as the countdown commenced. She swallowed her reaction, turning her attention to the show. I’ll deal with this guy later. He won’t get the last word.
****
Josh wasn’t sure more things could have gone wrong in the past twelve hours. It was like a giant wave had appeared out of nowhere and toppled the sand castle he’d just been putting the finishing touches on. As things had gelled—a truly talented host in the spot light, Bridgette bed-ridden and ill, Paige in his arms and finally starting to open up to him—the shit hit the fan.
The emergency call he’d received the night before had indeed been an emergency. As Josh breezed into his room, body and mind buzzing with pleasure like the aftershocks of an earthquake, Bridgette greeted him with a thin smile and a red, raw nose.
Wordlessly, she’d dialed her uncle, and with a single, curt, “Here”, she handed the phone to him.
His good mood shriveled into a cracked shell of its former self. Phone to his ear, her uncle was already talking.
“There was one stipulation to this show.” His watery baritone carried no trace of remorse. “You have violated it with astounding abandon.”
Josh had struggled to remain neutral during the call, but her uncle’s displeasure uncoiled inside him like a poisonous snake.
“If she does not reappear at the forefront of this goddamn peppy program, there will be no promised sums forthcoming.” Even when angry, the boss was eloquent. “Did you work ten years for me to get to this point? Did you sell ten years of your life to waste it all because you can’t follow one simple, goddamn direction?”
Between backpedaling and feigning ignorance, backpedaling always won. “Donny, you know me. You know how I work. I made an executive decision. I made the choice to stick with the consistency—”
“Fuck your consistency. The contract was not about consistency, it was about Bridgette’s big break. You have her in front of the camera, or you postpone filming. You know this. There has never been another means to the end. Now do you get it or do I have to fly out there to show you how to do your own damn job?”
Bridgette had watched with satisfaction as this phone call unraveled, alternately coughing and sneering at him from her post on the bed.
Josh kept quiet, avoiding Bridgette’s gaze at all costs.
“Don’t make this an issue again. Are we clear on this? You’re fucking it up, Josh.”
“Donny, I’m sorry. That was never my intention.”
“Damn well better not be. I don’t care how good this bimbo blonde is from New York. She’s not Bridgette. You’ve already mucked it up enough.”
Between the phone call and the painful follow-up conversations with Bridgette, the ego-crushing process had taken hours. He didn’t know where to go from here—today had been Paige’s last day on hosting. It had to be or Josh would r
eally be in the hot seat. Bridgette was getting better, at least well enough to work the following day, but that left the question of what to do with Paige?
Paige didn’t know about the deal, couldn’t know about the deal. Yet he owed it to her to explain exactly why she was being ripped away from what she truly excelled at. It was getting harder and harder to convince Paige, as well as anyone else, why Bridgette remained so tenaciously in the spotlight.
Just thinking of the upcoming façades he’d be forced to adopt made his head spin. Josh, you’re used to this, so why is it such an issue now? You don’t care what these people think, what anyone thinks.
Except for Paige. Maybe his years in the industry had stripped him of his better qualities, boiled them down to nothing. But she should know there was something worthy in him. He couldn’t stand dragging her along in this mess without at least a nod to what operated in the background.
Josh leaned against the floor-length windows, watching but not seeing the view of the ocean beyond the walls of the hotel property. The hacking, sneezing, sneering mess of Bridgette wanted things to go her way, and they weren’t. So she did what she knew how to do to get them going right again—complain.
Except it was infringing on his life in a major way. Bridgette had made a small but important side note after the reaming from her uncle had been completed.
“Joshi,” she’d said. “You’re spending too much time with the New York girl. Everyone has told me so. Is something going on between you two?”
Josh’s gut had shrunk to an iron nut when she’d said those words, fearful of what Bridgette might do now that she had a suspicion. Just fooling around. “Nothing I’m aware of.”
She hadn’t looked convinced, and leveled her gaze at him. “Good. It should stay that way. I would hate to have to make another call because your work here is suffering due to…distractions.”
Her words ran through his head the next day. He couldn’t believe his whole career had led to being manipulated by a novice show-biz broad. She had him by the balls. She knew it.
Blows to his ego, job threatened, profits in question, being manhandled by a newbie, and a distinct and precise insinuation that his romantic affair with Paige needed to come to an immediate halt, despite it being the one authentic thing roiling around inside his chest. This is what life is like on top.