L.A. Fire (2 page)

 
“You’ll have to get that dry cleaned,” he finally said. “It’s such a lovely
dress,” he added, his eyes once again riveted to mine, full of a new, darker
intensity than they’d held a moment before. We stared at each other for a long
moment, the sexual charge between us undeniable. Finally, I willed myself to
break his gaze, and handed back the handkerchief. That’s when I noticed the
initials. JM. Oh, hell. Julian McGregor. My boss’s partner.
    

 
I heard more footsteps, and turned in their direction. “Hello, Sarah.” It was
my new boss.

 
“Good morning, Mr. Cooper,” I said, getting to my feet and reaching out my
hand.

 
“Please,” he said, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Call me
Paul.” As he reached out to grab my hand, I marveled again at his warm, confident
handshake. Dressed in a navy blue Armani suit, and standing at six feet, his
posture full of quiet confidence, he was the picture of success and
professionalism. He gave Julian a nod and then said, “I see you’ve met my
business partner.”

 
“Yes,” I said meekly, feeling excruciatingly uncomfortable. I was looking at my
boss, but I could feel Julian studying me intently, with that unnerving gaze
that made me feel as though he could see right through me.

 
“We haven’t officially met,” Julian said. I noticed my boss take in my dress
and frown slightly.

 
“I had a little accident,” I said, mortified that Paul would think I came to
the office dressed like this. “Julian lent me his handkerchief.”

 
Paul nodded, but his brow furrowed slightly. “How kind of him,” he said, his
tone containing a twinge of something I couldn’t quite place. Then he said,
“Julian, this is Sarah. My new hire.” This time his tone was no nonsense, and
seemed to contain a warning.

 
Julian flashed me a huge smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Nice to
meet you, Sarah. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” Then he nodded curtly at
Paul, and went back over to the receptionist to ask her something, which was
presumably what he’d come into the lobby to do in the first place.

 
“Let’s get you set up,” Paul said, turning his attention back to me and
gesturing for me to follow him. I grabbed what was left of my coffee, smoothed
down my dress, and went after him. I was still shaken by my run in with Julian,
but I had to keep it together. This was the first day of my career, and I was
not going to blow it. As hot as he was, Julian was not an option. He was
practically my boss. I couldn’t deny the intense attraction I felt for him the
instant I saw him, but I’d just have to suppress it, or better yet, stay far
away from him. We passed several cubicles, and finally arrived at an empty one.
“This here is your office,” he said, pointing toward the long desk, computer,
and empty swivel chair.

 
I immediately noticed a huge stack of papers on the corner of the desk. It
almost reached to the top of the cubicle wall. I shot Paul a quick questioning
glance, then gestured with my hand toward the enormous pile. “Let me guess,” I
said. “Slush pile?”

 
Paul chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling again. “I’m afraid so,” he
said. “The unsolicited scripts keep coming in. A big part of your job will be
going through them, looking for a diamond in the rough.”

 
I flashed him a quick smile. “I’m up for the challenge,” I said.

 
Paul frowned slightly. “It’s good to be optimistic,” he said, his voice full of
caution. “I don’t want to dash your hopes, but you’ll be reading a lot of
trash. Once in a blue moon we find something worthwhile, but it rarely happens.
Still, it’s your job to read through them and keep your eyes peeled.”

 
I stared at the pile, and felt determination rise in me. “If there’s something
decent in there, I’ll find it,” I said.

 
Paul shook his head, then studied me for a moment. “We’re not looking for
decent, Sarah. We’re looking for exceptional.”

 
“Fair enough,” I said, looking down and feeling slightly embarrassed at coming
across as such a beginner.

 
“But that’s not all you’re here to do,” he said, his tone getting serious, even
slightly stern. “You’ll also be writing up my notes, taking minutes at
meetings, filing, photocopying, fetching coffee, you name it. The slush pile is
the lowest on your list of duties. But I still expect you to get it through it.
Even if it means doing it on your own time. Understood?”

 
Paul’s eyes filled with a stern expression as he studied me closely, gauging my
response. I knew when I accepted this job that he was a workaholic, and ran his
new hires ragged. But he was also one of the best in the business, and I was
ready to work my butt off and embrace this opportunity to learn as much as I
could. “Understood,” I said, meeting his gaze with an expression I hoped
conveyed firmness and confidence.

 
His eyes crinkled again slightly, the warmth I’d seen earlier returning to
them. “Good,” he said. He looked at me like he was debating something. “If I
gain confidence in your abilities, I’ll consider including you in meetings with
our clients and potential clients.” He eyed me again carefully. “But not until
you prove yourself.”

 
“Understood,” I said.

 
“Great,” he said. “Now let’s get to work.”

***

 
The whole day was a whirl of activity. If I wasn’t fetching coffee, or
photocopying, I was writing up Paul’s notes, or reading a script from the slush
pile. Paul was right. The stuff I was reading was abysmal. About an hour before
it was time to go home, I was in the middle of a script about robbers
disguising themselves as clowns and pulling off the ultimate bank robbery. The
script read like a bad imitation of
Point Break
. As I was sitting at my
desk, reading three pages of internal monologue that belonged in a novel, not a
movie, someone knocked on my cubicle wall. I looked up. A tall, lanky girl with
straight brown hair, square-framed glasses, and a thick layer of blinding red
lipstick poked her head in my cubicle.

 
“Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said. Her tone was friendly, her smile was sugar-sweet,
but her eyes were cold as they ran over every inch of me. “We’re both working
for Paul, so I figured I should introduce myself.”

 
I gave her a tight smile, and she smirked at me in response. “What are you
working on?” she asked in a lilting tone.

 
I hesitated for a moment, then figured, what the hell. It wouldn’t hurt to try
to be friendly. “I’m in slush pile hell,” I said, shrugging helplessly.

 
She gave me another sugar-sweet smile and then said, “Well, good luck with
that. Paul is having a meeting with a client in three days, so I’m prepping for
the meeting. It’s with a really talented screenwriter Paul signed.”

 
I eyed her speculatively, then gave her a winning smile. “Wow, good for you,” I
said enthusiastically. And I meant it.

 
“Don’t get your hopes up, though,” she said. I gave her a confused look, and
her lips twisted into a smirk. “I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve only been here
three months and already Paul trusts me with the important stuff. In most
cases, though, it takes years,” she said, giving me another sickeningly sweet
smile. “So, don’t expect too much, okay?”

 
I could feel my blood start to boil. Who was this condescending bitch? It was
so obvious she was trying to make me feel small. I narrowed my eyes at her.
This time when she smiled, I noticed that her lipstick was smeared all over her
front teeth. I sighed to myself. I wasn’t going to be a bitch back. “You’re
bleeding,” I said.

 
Her face became alarmed. “What do you mean? Where?”

 
I pointed to my teeth. “Yours are all red. Fire engine red, to be precise.”

 
She looked confused for a moment, then, angry. “That was bitchy,” she said,
rubbing at her front teeth.

 
I looked at her in disbelief. “Actually, I was just trying to be helpful. You
know, save you from embarrassment.”

 
She scowled at me. “Whatever,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me and turning
to go.

 
“Thanks for stopping by!” I said, imitating her sugar-sweet smile. She stormed
off. I chuckled to myself, and shook my head. I guess I’d just met the office
bitch. So much for making friends with all of my colleagues.  

***

  
At six thirty I was still sitting at my desk, going through the slush pile. I’d
finished everything else, all the ‘important stuff,’ but I was determined to at
least make a dent in that crazy pile of paper. I’d read about three girls who
turn into witches and take revenge on the mean girls at school, pitched as
Harry Potter meets, you guessed it,
Mean Girls
. Pass. At least I got a
good laugh at a totally inappropriate Shakespeare reference. I also rolled my
eyes at a story about a boy and a man who switch bodies. Even the dialogue in
that one was a total rip off of the movie
Big
.

 
By seven-thirty, I had a huge headache, and felt like gouging my eyes out, plus
I was hungry and irritable. I’d made it through fifteen screenplays and was
determined to make it to twenty before calling it a day. At eight o’clock, Paul
walked by my desk and gave me a concerned look. “Take it easy,” he said. “You
don’t want to burn out. It’s only your first day.”

 
I gave him a wan smile, my eyes probably looking totally bleary, and promised
him I’d go home soon. Right when I started script eighteen I was about to throw
in the towel. Then I read the first line of the script, and felt excitement
bubble through me. This was promising. As was the next line. And the next. It
was a spy thriller, a bit in the vein of
The Bourne Series
, but with a
totally unique and unexpected twist at the end. I felt a jolt of excitement
when I finished reading it, and could feel myself start to grin stupidly. I
hastily scooped up my things, grabbed the script, and started to race out of
there, ready to go home and write up a report I could have on my boss’s desk by
the next day. As I exited the door between reception and the main office, I
noticed a soft glow coming from one of the corner offices. I looked at the name
on the door. Julian McGregor. His name alone made my stomach flutter, and my
heart beat faster. I stood there for a moment recalling those magnetic, sharply
intelligent eyes boring into me this morning, and felt a wild rush of heat
shoot through me. I took a deep breath, and shook off the memory. He was my
boss’s partner. There was no way I could go there. My career came first. I
quickly exited the office, not once looking back.

 
“Where the
hell
are you?” It was Angela.

 
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot.” I rubbed my eyes and took another
sip of my tea. I’d been home for the last two hours, eating greasy Chinese
take-out, and writing out notes on the script. I’d been so excited about
finding this gem that I’d totally forgotten about meeting Angela at the bar
where she worked.

 
“How could you forget? I even put aside a bottle of bubbly for you.” I could
hear her pouting on the other end of the line.

 
“Oh, Ange, that’s the sweetest. I promise I’ll make it up to you. And you’re
working anyway, right? You wouldn’t have time for me even if I did show up.”

 
She sighed. “Alright. I’ll tell you what. I’ll forgive you if you have a good
reason. Like you ran into Ryan Gosling and just finished having hot, animal sex
with him all over the apartment.”

 
I chuckled, but felt a rush of tingling heat pass through me as an image of
Julian taking me on the couch flashed through my head. “Not quite,” I said,
“But something did come up.”

 
“What is it?” she said excitedly. “Don’t keep me in suspense. I’ve got, like,
another minute to talk before I have to be back behind the bar.”

 
“I discovered an amazing script,” I blurted out.

 
“Seriously? On your first day? How
lucky
is that?”

 
“I know, right? Anyway, I’ve got to get my notes in shape to give my boss first
thing tomorrow. If he decides he wants to sign the writer, then we can
celebrate. Deal?”