Personal Assistant (5 page)

       
“Your
tux is already here, sir.”
Professional,
just stay professional. He is your boss, he is not hitting on you, he is a
notorious flirt, and you should be so lucky to be this close to him. Keep it
together, Frankie, just keep it together.

       
“I
know.” He poked his head around the corner. “But my date cancelled on me and I
don’t like going alone. You’re my assistant, Frankie, call Griffin, pick a
dress, and assist me.”

       
Her
mouth dropped open. She couldn’t help it. Half of her was giddy with the
opportunity to go sit in the audience and watch the show. The other half was
paralyzed with fear.

       
Apparently
he enjoyed keeping her off balance. He winked and said, “You’re wasting time.
We’ll be late.”

       
Spurred
into action by the challenge she searched through her contacts, a whole new
list of people she didn’t know from Adam, for Griffin’s number. He was Jonas’s
personal stylist. By the time she explained the situation, the man was in an
uproar and apparently on his way. Before anyone arrived, Jonas was showered and
dressing.

       
Jonas
popped a button on the insanely expensive white shirt and called for her. “Can
you fix it?”

       
“Do
you have a sewing kit around here?”

       
He
shrugged.

       
Frankie
huffed in frustration. How could he not know? She located her purse and dug
into it for the tiny emergency kit with four pre-threaded needles and prayed
one of them was white.

       
She
returned with the needle and thread and said, “Take it off. Let me see it.”

       
His
eyebrow quirked and he bit his lower lip. “Don’t tempt me.”

       
“Sir.”
Frankie tried to sound frustrated but she sounded
breathless even to her own ears. He was flirting again. She could barely
contain her hormones when he gave her that look. Pulling herself together she
cleared her throat and demanded, “The shirt, please.”

       
He
pulled the shirt off and handed it to her. She looked around the large bathroom
and settled her eyes on the commode. He pushed the lid down and she took a seat
while he washed his hands. Frankie was nervous. Sewing one of her buttons on a
shirt wasn’t a big deal, but sewing a button on a shirt that might cost as much
as her rent
was
a big deal. She was
careful in her stitches, her focus completely on the task at hand.
Probably why she jumped at the sound of the doorbell.
The
needle penetrated her finger and up off the commode she stood, tears
threatening her eyes. She pulled the needle from the offended finger. Holding
the needle and shirt in one hand she put the offended finger in her mouth and
tried to fight the urge to cry. It hurt.

       
Jonas
calmly took the shirt from her hand, bit the string. He placed the shirt on the
sink counter and tossed the needle in the trashcan next to the sink. “Let me
see.”

       
She
shook her head no. The doorbell sounded again.

       
“You
don’t have time to tell me no, Frankie, let me see it.” He pulled her hand away
from her mouth, looked at it carefully, then pulled her finger up to his lips
and kissed the stinging tip. “There, all better, now.”

       
Frankie
was sure the finger was not all better, but she was too distracted by the other
feelings now flooding her body to care. The doorbell rang again and she opened
her eyes wide in awareness. “Griffin.”

       
She
took off running,

       
“Be
careful, the floors are slick.” She heard him call after her.

       
Frankie
made it to the front door and opened it to find a very peeved stylist and a
crew of three others.

       
“Let’s
go.” Griffin ushered them in. He was in charge now, no doubt about it. “You
said you were a size nine or ten.”

       
“I
am.” Frankie took a step back as the men and women went to work dragging in
trunks.

       
“Not
by Hollywood sizing you’re not.” He turned to a woman with long blonde hair
pulled back into a sever ponytail. “Grab the peach one. It’s likely the only
one left that will fit you. I warn you my dear, its designer is not kind to
those who treat her clothes unkindly. I’m sure it costs more than he’s paying
you. I wouldn’t put you in it, but I have nothing else to fit. You got boobs.”
He walked around looking her over.
“And a nice ass.
Starlets might have one or the other, but those who have both, get dresses in
advance. Fortunately for you, a particularly musical one likes to order more
than one style and pick last minute.”

       
Frankie
was flustered. The man had surveyed her body and possibly given her a
compliment, if it wasn’t laced with so much agitation. “Grab the kittens, by
the look of what she’s got on her feet now, those stilettos will be dangerous.”
Griffin looked up to the top of the stairs and said, “You need to sign for the
jewels. I’ll need them back by Monday.”

       
Jonas
nodded and said, “Just get her ready. We have to leave here in less than an
hour, right?”

       
Frankie
stood stunned. She really was a plastic doll to him. He was having her dressed
and ready to take off to some place he could play with her and then drop her back
into her life and her plain shoes and clothes and jewelry she could wear
without fear. She looked up at him, hoping she didn’t sound as frightened as
she suddenly felt and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to call another woman
to go with you?”

       
He
looked angry for a moment and then said, “Out of the question. Get dressed,
you’re wasting time.”

       
Griffin
clapped his hands and she was ushered into the massive living room where people
began taking her clothes off, putting clothes on her, sewing in a few stitches
to make the dress flawless, pulling at her hair, and then painting her face
with more make-up than she would normally wear. She had no idea what she looked
like. The kitten heels were not exactly what she thought of when she used the
name. Her kitten heels were three inches high, but with a sturdy heel. The
shoes she stood in were around three, maybe four inches high and had a much
slimmer heel.

       
The
dress, once she saw the label coming towards her, caused her heart to soar.
Frankie suddenly thought of the days she had pretended to be a princess.
Tonight, she was dressed like one, wearing a dress from a brand new collection
created by one.  The weight of the earrings was unlike the disposable
costume ones she normally wore. When the clear pink diamond ring was slid on
the middle finger of her right hand she gasped.

       
“You
look amazing. I hope someone notices.” Griffin patted her hand and then as
quickly as the crew had shuffled in, they shuffled out. Her things were neatly
folded in a nearby chair.

       
She
stepped out of the living room and into the great foyer just in time to see
Jonas at the top of the stairs. He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid
eyes on. He stood there a moment, staring at her. Suddenly self-conscious she
said, “I know I need to be careful in this dress and with the earrings and the
ring. I promise I won’t ruin them.”

       
She
could have sworn he said ‘that makes one of us’, but he was too far away and it
sounded like a whisper by the time the words hit her ears across the distance.

       
The
doorbell rang again and she looked around for her phone; it was time to leave
and she needed the phone. It was the one indisputable point in the contract.
She had to keep that phone on her person or accessible to her at all times. She
spied a delicately jeweled bag next to her pile of clothes. She took careful
steps to the chair and picked up the bag. Inside were her phone, a tiny powder
case, and lipstick. When she returned to the foyer, he was there, waiting for
her.

       
Frankie
looked at him in all his gorgeous state and fumbled for words.

       
“You
trying to steal my thunder?” he asked with a wink of his eye.

       
“Impossible,”
she breathed the word.

       
“Yeah,
well, you haven’t looked in the mirror yet.” He held out his arm and she looped
hers through it. “Lady
MacBeth
, I would like to
apologize in advance for dragging you out to this thing.”

       
He
opened the door and they were off.

       
Jonas
had to admit, she was gorgeous. More than she realized. He explained what her
role would need to be in order to keep her out of the tabloids, especially now
that she was dressed to kill. The limo pulled up to a secluded entrance and
waited in line until they were at the door. A man opened the door and leaned
down to look in.

       
“Jonas
Gunner. This is my personal assistant, Francesca
MacBeth
,
please see her to my table,” he said. The man nodded, held out a hand to
Frankie, and the moment she took it Jonas wanted to bypass the red carpet and
escort her to the table himself.

       
“Frankie,”
he called after her unable to stop himself. She leaned over to look at him and
the sight of her cleavage made him gulp. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

       
“No
worries, sir.” Frankie flashed him a real smile and his heart thumped with
appreciation. The door closed, the limo moved. He thought about the second he’d
seen her from the top of the stairs. His dick would have pulled him down the
stairs to get to her if he let it do all the thinking. Instead, he collected
his thoughts, his motives, and decided that he would not treat her like a date
at this event. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Not when the media would plaster her
all over the place. He dropped her off safely, made his way through the
interviews, and dodged questions about the ex-girlfriend, the one who was
supposed to be sick, walking a few media outlets behind him with her newest
co-star.

       
“I’m
happy for
them,”he
said and realized he wasn’t lying.
Sometimes people fall for one another when they work together on set for too
long. It’s easy to do when the characters are intimate, the stars single and
bored, and somewhere the line blurs and it becomes hard to tell if the
character is attracted or if the real person is. He had vowed not to get
involved with another co-star when the last relationship began to sour, when
the real character surfaced and he knew at once, his sister was right, that
girl was only in it for the headlines. Ivy wasn’t like the other girls. She was
still a virgin, desperate to make her way in this town, and he had agreed to
let people believe what they would about their relationship.  It was
really just a friendship that he knew would have to come to a public end sooner
or later.

       
He
skipped a few television cameras and other media outlets that were busy with
interviews already. His agent would likely send him an e-mail on that, but no
one was asking about the upcoming project. It was all about the award he was
presenting, the one he was up for, or the woman trailing behind him on the
media circuit. Besides, he had Frankie waiting on him, and she had been waiting
over an hour at this point.

       
He
walked in and was escorted towards his table. Halfway there he saw her talking
to a well-known young football player. The guy leaned in a little closer than
Jonas’s newly embedded possessive streak approved of. He leaned back with a
loud laugh and a blushing face. Frankie had that effect on people. Maybe she
was oblivious to the natural sex appeal she practically oozed by existing.
Maybe she knew, and she enjoyed
lording
it over
everyone. Either way, she was his, his assistant at the very least, and hitting
on her was unprofessional, except when he was the one doing it.

       
“Hey,”
Jonas said as he approached them. “What’s so funny?”

       
“Oh
wow, you’re Jonas Gunner.” The guy looked from him to Frankie and back. “Ms.
MacBeth
, you didn’t say you were here with Jonas Gunner.”

       
The
guy looked so confused Jonas almost forgave him for occupying his seat and his
date…his assistant’s…time. He had to stop thinking date. “You two know each
other?”

       
Great,
now he was competing with a professional football player for the affections of
an English teacher.

       
“Yeah,”
he said. “She was my lit professor my sophomore year. You don’t forget teachers
who make a difference in your life.”

       
Before
Jonas could respond, the guy’s date, a delicate young girl in a dress someone
must have painted on her body, approached and called for him. The girl looked
at Frankie. As if to remind the kid of her assets she pulled at the top of the
dress she was wearing and whined. Jonas remembered girls like that. Gold
Diggers, easily tossing themselves at guys they thought would take them
somewhere. It was girls like that who had made him think dating actresses was a
better idea. After three failed and one fake relationship with actresses, he
was convinced he was destined to be the next long-term bachelor.

       
Then
Frankie walked in and turned his world upside down. What was worse, the woman
had not a clue she had done so. Jonas took the empty seat next to her and
grabbed the glass of water on the table. “This is mine, not his, right?”

       
She
laughed. “Of course it’s yours.”

       
After
he had started to drink the much needed liquid she said, “I only let him have a
sip of it.”

       
Jonas
slowly pulled the glass from his lips and sat it on the table. He looked at
her. She pulled her glasses off again. He realized she could not see as well
without them, but she seemed to be concerned about wearing them.

       
“Wear
your glasses, Frankie. I didn’t take you to be vain.” He reached across and
grabbed her glass of water and started drinking it.

       
“I
wasn’t keeping them off for my sake.” She put them on and sighed. She looked at
him and then past him. Her hand went up in the air and motioned for someone. He
looked around to see a waiter heading towards them. “You must be thirsty after
all that talking out there. Is it still hot out?”

       
She
put her arm down and looked at him again. He was less interested in what was
outside than what was sitting in front of him. “So, how many pro football
players have you taught?”

       
“What?”

       
“You
were a teacher for a while. You obviously make an impression, I was just
wondering how many young men might be vying for a spot on your schedule. I
didn’t ask that question in the interview. Are you seeing anyone? Do I need to
be considerate of your time in the evenings?” He battled his desire to snarl as
he asked the questions. He could not think of her with anyone else. The thought
of her lips locked with someone else’s had his blood boiling.

       
Frankie
seemed confused by his barrage of questions. The waiter arrived and filled the
glasses with more water. She hadn’t responded.

       
The
waiter asked, “Would you and the lady like something else to drink, Mr.
Gunner?”

       
“No,
thank you,” Jonas said as politely as he could manage in the moment. He didn’t
need the servers talking about him being moody. “Maybe wine at dinner.”

       
He
looked away from Frankie long enough to smile at the man before he walked away.

       
His
eyes snapped back to Francesca and waited for his answers.

       
“Well,”
she said. Her shoulders pulled back a little, her spine straightened just a fraction
more. Subtle moves he knew meant he was in for a lecture of some sort. “I would
hope you would like to be considerate of my time because you are a considerate
man, not because you have to. Second, what woman in her right mind would take
this job if she had a man in her life? I mean seriously, do you think that
relationship would last long with his every moment wondering how he compared to
you?”

       
Since
he had never had an assistant before, he never really thought about any of
those things. She made a lot of sense, but it didn’t sooth his jealous ego.

       
“As
for how many young men might have become professional athletes, lawyers, or
whatever else they had their sights set on, I have no idea. They outnumber me
thousands to one by now. I sometimes remember faces, but not many names. That
is why he was laughing. He recognized me immediately. I thought he was lost or
something. I mean why would anyone cross a room like this, in a place like
this, with people like her here, just to talk to me?”

       
He
didn’t bother to look at whoever she was talking about or pointing to. “Do you
think your pretty, Frankie?”

       
“What
kind of question is that?”

       
“A real one.
I’m curious. I want to know.” He sat back and
let her think about her answer as he downed another glass of water. The waiter
had graciously left a pitcher on the table, but he was tempted to take her
glass again, simply because it was hers and he liked drinking from it.

       
“Yes,”
she said.
“Mostly.
I mean, I know I’m not the worst
looking woman around, but I’m not exactly strolling down a catwalk on my days
off. I like me, if that is what you’re asking. I don’t rely on my looks like a
lot of women I know, but I’m not oblivious to my body or how men can see me if
they choose to.”

       
He
wasn’t expecting that answer. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but
it sure wasn’t that. He shrugged. “I guess as long as you know you’re
beautiful, that’s what counts. I suppose you can afford to remain oblivious as
to why a young man would cross a room to speak to you. You’ve probably had to
ignore or overlook advances from your supervisors or your students.”

       
“Not
everyone puts it in a contract.” Frankie snatched her glass up before he could
reach it. She took a drink and then sat it back on the table, just out of his
reach.

       
He
was feeling better. His body cooled from the water, the air conditioning, her
denial of any other interested parties.

       
He
wanted to talk to her longer, steal more moments between them in private, but
the other people seated at their table arrived. His director, her husband, and
their daughter arrived first. They were followed by the co-star of that movie,
her husband, and finally, a producer and his date. Everyone knew one another
and was polite to Frankie without being nosy. The night droned on, he presented
the award, hurried back to the table, worried about her when she left to use
the ladies room, and was relieved when she returned. He had never experienced
anything like it before.

       
“The
award for best actor in a comedy goes to…”

       
He
really was just happy to be nominated. He liked drama, action, even horror. The
comedy was fun to do, but not a real challenge since he already had a good
sense of humor and had completed a few of those films before.

       
“Jonas
Gunner.”

       
He
was genuinely surprised. He stood up. His director hugged him. Everyone else at
the table congratulated him. He looked at Frankie. She was clapping and
smiling, obviously excited, probably as excited as he should have been.

       
All
he wanted to do was grab her, hug her, kiss her, and share that joy. Instead,
he let his hand slide to the small of her back as he passed. The smooth fabric
tickled his palm. He couldn’t think of anyone to thank, he almost thanked her
though she had nothing to do with the movie. Then again, she had likely seen it
so she was among the many that had everything to do with the success of the
movie.

       
“I’d
like to say thank you to the fans.”

       
The
crowd roared and he made a quick exit. There were people waiting to interview
him the moment he stepped off stage. The metal trophy was heavy, well made. His
name would now be preceded by award winning actor. It was an accomplishment for
sure. His family was already blowing up his phone. He could feel it vibrate in
the pocket close to his chest. He was an actor and he acted like he gave a
shit. Any other day he might have. Today, he only thought of how the hours
ticking by were leading to Frankie going home and him going to bed alone.

       
His
jaws hurt from the smiling. His eyes were dry from the constant flashes of
light and the lamps illuminating the platform more than necessary.

       
He
was glad to return to his seat. He sat the award on the table in front of her.
He grabbed a glass of water and downed it as he sat. She handed him her glass
and filled the empty one without saying a word. The awards went on for what
seemed like forever. He didn’t touch the wine. He didn’t dare impair his
senses. Frankie didn’t either. Unlike the tales of personal assistants who were
known to get as drunk as everyone else at a party, he knew he would never have
to worry about those issues.