Read Her Red-Carpet Romance Online

Authors: Marie Ferrarella

Her Red-Carpet Romance (6 page)

BOOK: Her Red-Carpet Romance
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“Huh,” he murmured in response to her claim of liking the feel of putting pen to paper.

Lukkas couldn't help but wonder if she was being genuine, or if she was merely saying that because she'd learned from someone that he felt the same way about the notes he made to himself.

The veteran producer was the first to admit that he was scattered from here to eternity and the notes he cared about...well, they could still be found somewhere between those two points. He had good intentions, but heaven knew he wasn't organized.

That was where she was supposed to come in.

It was up to her to keep after him as well as to make his hectic world as organized as humanly possible.

“There's Dirk Montelle,” Lukkas suddenly announced, giving the man the hello sign when the latter looked in their direction. “He's signed on to direct this little movie,” he told her.

The man had a real gift for understatement, she thought. That was a revelation to her.

She would have thought that a man of his capabilities, not to mention the perks he probably had written into his contracts, would have had a giant ego and a way of pounding his own chest and putting everyone else down. She'd known men like that before. Actually
dated
men like that before she'd decided she was better off sitting home alone than being out with one of these egotists, chairing a fan club meeting of one.

But before she could make some sort of a response to his last comment, Lukkas was taking off, striding across the parched and cracked streets to reach the man he had ultimately selected to helm his movie. He'd told her how he'd thought long and hard over making an offer to the director. This was his life's blood up there. That was a hard thing to ignore or even remain neutral about. Finally getting the proposed movie off the storyboards and onto a set with a final script was like having a dream come true. The movie he was now in charge of making had been a secret project of his for the past ten years.

Watching Lukkas pick up his pace, Yohanna shook her head. She picked up her own pace to make up for the head start the man had on her. Yohanna pressed her lips together, looking for strength even though she knew it could have been so much worse.

Even so, she couldn't help wishing that Lukkas would give her some kind of a warning before he took off like that.

She assumed he wanted her to get acquainted with the people working on this film so that when he asked her to do something with one of the cast or crew, she would know who he was talking about.

That meant becoming familiar with the names and jobs of more than two hundred people.

Fast.

Well, she'd wanted something a little more exciting than the work she'd done before, right? Office manager for the law firm had been good, steady work—until it wasn't, of course, and she'd become a casualty of the company merger—but it had also admittedly been dull as dishwater in its day-to-day routine.

This, however, had the makings of some sort of a wild, no-holds-barred adventure in fantasyland. For the moment—and hopefully for some time to come if everything went well—she would be dealing with both the present-day world and the past, and probably the future if what she'd heard about the producer's next project was true.

The words
dull
and
boring
were definitely not words to be applied to this job description, Yohanna thought happily.

“C'mon, catch up, Hanna,” Lukkas urged as he turned for a moment in her direction and called out to her. “We don't want this project to start falling behind schedule before it even gets under way.”

“No, sir,” she responded—only to have Lukkas shoot her a look that stopped her in her tracks.

Instantly she realized her mistake. “No, Lukkas,” she corrected herself.

“Hope you learn the routine faster than you learned that,” he commented.

“Old habits are hard to unlearn,” she told him.

“Didn't ask for an explanation, Hanna,” Lukkas pointed out. “Just make it happen, starting now.”

She inclined her head rather than open her mouth. Just for now, Yohanna thought that it might be better that way.

 

Chapter Six

I
f Dirk Montelle had been cast in a movie, Yohanna thought as she quickly followed Lukkas and drew closer to the director, he would have played a college professor. Montelle looked the type—almost stereotypically so—right down to the pipe that she'd read was never out of arm's reach.

For the most part, the man didn't smoke it as much as he kept it around to chew on its stem. According to an interview he'd given recently, it helped him cope with the countless tensions and crises that went along with being in the business of making fantasies come to life for a brief amount of time.

The longtime veteran director paused for a moment, cutting short his exchange with the person he was talking to, to greet Lukkas. When his steel-gray eyes shifted over to look at her, the affable director grinned broadly and then shook his head, not in a negative way but in apparent admiration.

“So I see you already heard,” the director said to Lukkas.

“Heard what?” Lukkas asked as he shook the man's hand.

“About our little crisis. She certainly is pretty enough,” the man said appreciatively, taking full measure of Yohanna. “If she can sound believable saying her lines, she's in.” Appearing exceedingly satisfied, the director put his hand out to her and introduced himself. “Dirk Montelle. And you are...?”

“Very confused,” Yohanna confessed as she glanced from the enthusiastic director to her equally confused-looking boss.

At least it wasn't just her, Yohanna thought with relief.

“Montelle, what the hell are you talking about?” Lukkas asked.

The director's expressive eyebrows rose high on his wide forehead. “You mean you didn't bring her here to replace Monica Elliott?” he asked, referring to the actress playing one of the more prominent supporting roles.

“Why would I want to replace Monica Elliott? The woman's got the mouth of a sailor on shore leave after six months at sea, but the audiences still seem to love her. All her recent films have been hits,” Lukkas reminded the director.

Although, in his personal opinion, the egotistical actress was skating on very thin ice and living on borrowed time. Any day now, he expected to see a news bulletin that the twenty-seven-year-old actress had crashed and burned.

“Yeah, well, they're going to have to love someone else,” Dirk told him. “She walked out yesterday, saying that she decided to honor the commitment she'd broken to be in our movie.”

Lukkas looked at his director. “Monica had another commitment?” This was the first he was hearing about there being another movie, much less that the high-living actress had broken a contract to film his movie instead.

Dirk nodded. “She said that the first contract predates the one she has with us by fifteen days.”

“And what made her suddenly change her mind to switch back?” Lukkas asked.

Dirk raised his wide shoulders in an exaggerated shrug then let them fall almost dramatically. “With her, who knows? Somebody said something about Monica being angry that Angelica Fargo had more lines than she did.” The director sighed. “Bottom line is that we're down the second lead.” He turned toward Yohanna. “Sure you don't want to give it a whirl?” he asked, sounding almost half serious. “You look about the same size as Monica, so Wardrobe wouldn't be unhappy.”

Though flattered, Yohanna's thoughts were focused elsewhere. “Did you see it?” she asked.

Dirk looked at her uncertainly. He hadn't a clue what she was asking. “See what?”

“The other contract,” Yohanna stressed. “Did you see the date on it?”

Lukkas realized what his assistant was getting at. “Well, did you?” he asked his director and old friend.

The expression on Dirk's face was that of a man wondering if he had been duped. “Actually, no. I took her word for it. She said something about her lawyer holding on to it. The threat she was silently issuing was that she'd sue and hold up production on the picture if we didn't let her out of this contract.”

“What are you thinking?” Lukkas asked Yohanna.

“That she might be bluffing. I could be wrong, but judging by her recent actions—yes, I watch those tabloid programs—that might be something she'd be prone to do, lie to get out of a contract she decided wasn't to her advantage to honor for some reason. It should be an easy thing to check out.”

Lukkas turned his attention to his director. “You know anyone on the other set? Someone who might be able to confirm—or dispute—when the contracts for all the major players were signed?”

Montelle suddenly looked very pleased with himself—and impressed with Lukkas's newest addition to his crew. “As a matter of fact, I know a few people.”

“Knew there was a reason I hired you,” Lukkas quipped. Then he looked at Yohanna. “Nice catch.”


Possible
catch,” she amended.

“Modest, too. Looks as though I got lucky. Remind me to throw some more business Mrs. Manetti's way,” he told her. “And while you're at it, give Joanne Campbell's agent a call.”

“The actress?” she asked a little uncertainly. Joanne and Monica looked alike enough to be sisters. Why would he need one if he was keeping the other?

“No, the librarian,” he deadpanned. “Of course, the actress. The part's a good fit for her.”

“But what about Monica?” Yohanna asked him. “Didn't you just say—?”

He held his hand up to keep her from going on. “I want to give her a hard time to show her that it's not good business to create her kind of turmoil on one of my sets. She made Montelle here sweat. Now it's our turn to make
her
sweat. Sound good to you?” he asked the director.

The man's grin said it all, but just in case, he confirmed, “Absolutely. Music to my ears, boss.”

His attention back to the director, Lukkas told the man, “If you need me, I'll be in the trailer for a while—” He suddenly paused. “The trailers did arrive, right?”

“Yesterday,” Montelle confirmed. “Most of them anyway. The rest are on their way. Should be here by the end of the week. What's a production without glitches?” the director asked.

“A production that doesn't have me eating migraine tablets by the pound,” Lukkas responded.

Dirk snapped his fingers as if he'd had a life-altering idea.

“That's how I'll fund my retirement. I'll buy stock in your migraine medication,” he said, almost succeeding in keeping a straight face.

“Coming?” Lukkas asked Yohanna after he began walking away.

There he went again. “Would you take offense if I had a bell collar make up for you?” she asked Lukkas, once again quickly striding after him to catch up.

“I don't wear jewelry,” he responded, straight-faced.

“Don't think of it as jewelry,” she told him. “Think of it as an early warning system. Kind of like with earthquakes.”

Lukkas rolled her explanation over in his mind. “I think I like that comparison, but I'm not sure. Get back to me on that,” he instructed.

“Right,” she mumbled under her breath.

* * *

“This is your trailer?” Yohanna asked, clearly wowed as she walked into it.

He tossed the briefcase he'd brought with him onto the nearest flat surface. “Yes. Why?”

She suppressed a low whistle. “My first apartment was smaller than this. I think my second one was, too.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said wryly. “This is my production headquarters when I'm away from the studio. I need the space to think. Small, tight places don't let me think.”

“Whatever works,” she said agreeably, still taking it all in.

“You can put your things down over there,” Lukkas told her, pointing to what looked like a spacious alcove, complete with a compact acrylic desk and a landline.

The latter had her looking at him quizzically. She nodded at it, waiting for him to explain. Why a landline when the logical way to go would have been another cell phone?

“It's my tribute to my past,” he told her. “I like blending old and new together. It does nobody any good to let old traditions die unnoticed and forgotten.”

“Okaaay,” she murmured, drawing out the word.

“And now,” he told her, “on that note, I've got several phone calls to make—and if I'm not mistaken, you do, too.”

“Right,” she agreed, putting down the laptop that she'd packed this morning. Flipping it open, she began initializing her access to the internet.

“Of course I'm right,” Lukkas quipped. “That's why they pay me the big bucks.” His eyes narrowed just a touch as he looked at her. “That's a joke, Hanna.”

Her mouth quirked a touch. “I knew that.” Her eyes sparkled with a whimsical glimmer that he found rather compelling.

Perhaps just a little
too
compelling, he silently warned.

Taking a breath to fortify himself, Lukkas said, “Hard to tell at times,” and then went off to the section of the custom-built trailer that doubled as a bedroom whenever he remained on a set overnight.

* * *

Yohanna found that working for Lukkas Spader on a movie set was a real learning experience. She discovered that while he was the producer on record, there were several positions that bore part of his title and were considered to be under his supervision.

There were assistant producers, coproducers and executive producers to name just a few, and none of them had the sort of responsibility and authority that Lukkas with his simpler title possessed.

She learned very quickly that he took his position quite seriously, relinquishing none of the myriad parts.

He had conceived of the idea for this movie, nurtured it along and then cowrote the script after having written the initial treatment. He'd been involved in the casting of the film, retaining his right of final veto if someone didn't strike him as being right for the part.

According to what she learned from one of the camera crew, Lukkas always took casting approval very seriously, right down to the extras who were to be used in several of the saloon scenes.

He also, the cameraman informed her, tended to use the same crew over and over again, shepherding them from one movie to another. They were, in effect, one large, mostly happy family.

“The man's as loyal as anyone you'll ever be lucky enough to know—pretty rare in this business, let me tell you,” the veteran cameraman had rhapsodized.

“How many movies have you made with him?” she asked, curious.

“Five, counting this one,” the man, Eddie, had answered as he continued setting up his equipment. “But there're guys here who've been with The Spade from the beginning. He once said that if he liked the quality of someone's work, he didn't see a reason why he shouldn't use that person again.”

“Wait, ‘The Spade'?” she questioned uncertainly. Were they still talking about Lukkas?

The man nodded. “That's what the crew calls him. Because of his last name,” he added.

She had to admit that she wouldn't have thought of that herself. But now that the cameraman had pointed it out to her, she couldn't see how she could have missed that.

“He knows everyone's name. I really don't know how he keeps them all straight. Me, I've got five kids and sometimes I forget some of their names, or get who's who mixed up,” he joked. “I never heard The Spade confuse anyone's name with someone else's. The guy's incredible.”

There'd be no argument from her on that. But, admiration notwithstanding, she was starting to understand why the producer needed to have someone organizing things for him as he went along. It was apparent that he already had far too much going on in his head to accommodate anything extra.

In all honesty, she was beginning to wonder how the man didn't just implode—or have a meltdown. There was just too much.

* * *

“So how's it going?” Lukkas asked sometime later that day as he came up on her.

“I located Joanne Campbell. Her agent—Jim Myers—said she was in between projects at the moment and would love to have a chance to work with you. Seems you have quite a following,” she told him with a smile.

She had to confess that she felt a touch of pride about the matter as well, which she supposed anyone else would have thought somewhat premature. But in all honesty, she was beginning to feel as if she had always had this job. To his credit, Lukkas created that sort of atmosphere on his sets.

Lukkas was quick to wave away the comment she had repeated. “Her agent knows how to sugarcoat his words, that's all. Helps during negotiations.”

“Myers wanted to know when you'd like to have Joanne audition for the part.”

“No need,” Lukkas told her. “She's already got the part.” When Yohanna looked at him in surprise, he explained his reasoning. “She has the same build, the same coloring as the Elliott girl and—as a plus—she has a hell of a better attitude than Monica Elliott does.” Lukkas had few hard and fast rules on his set, but Monica Elliott had broken one of them. “I don't like turmoil on my sets.”

“Turmoil,” Yohanna echoed. “I don't see how that's even possible, considering the size of the fan club you've got here.” She'd initially decided to keep that to herself, but when something was staring you in the face, there was a tendency to want to at least mention it.

Lukkas clearly looked as if he didn't know what she was talking about. “Come again?”

“I talked to one of the crew members—a cameraman named Eddie Harrington,” she interjected. “From what I gathered, the whole crew thinks that you could walk on water if you really wanted to.”

Lukkas frowned at her and shook his head. “Don't exaggerate, Hanna.”

“I don't think I am,” she told him. “If anything, I'm probably understating it. I don't know if you realize it, but you've got enough goodwill going for you here to mount a campaign for president of the United States if you wanted to.”

BOOK: Her Red-Carpet Romance
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