The Second Assistant (26 page)

“If you hang up on me again, Elizabeth, I’ll call Daniel Rosen and tell him you’re a very rude assistant.”

“That’s blackmail.”

Talitha’s typing came to an abrupt halt. Apparently that was a word that garnered interest at The Agency. I lowered my voice.

“Bob, I am at work. If I never mentioned it months ago, although I’m certain I did, thank you for taking me to Spago. But it was unconscionable to slip narcotics into my drink and . . . the rest.” I could barely catch my breath.

He had absolutely no remorse. “You sound just like Mrs. Jenkins when you get mad. She was my third-grade homeroom teacher. Fuck, I’ve got a woody. Have dinner with me tonight.”

I hung up for the third and last time. I didn’t need this abuse. A disgusting pervert was stalking me, and he refused to take no for an answer. What was I supposed to do?

“I do hope that wasn’t Bob Davies you just hung up on. He gets one point two million a movie and has the highest net profit in terms of points of any of our other producers,” said Courtney with a smile as tight as her scrawny little ass.

“Well, he happens to be calling desiring phone sex, and last time I looked, Courtney, this wasn’t a 1-900 number.”

“Well, Elizabeth, maybe if you tried to keep your clothes on and not bend over backward to date clients, you and Bob wouldn’t be having this misunderstanding.”

Touché. I was about to come back with a real zinger, but the phone was ringing incessantly. I knew now that Courtney would clearly be of no help at all in the screening of beastly Bob, and Talitha was on the phone already. I picked up the receiver with a vengeance.

“Bob, leave me alone!” I shouted.

“Well, that’s a very professional way to answer the phone, isn’t it? I suspected that your limitations were numerous, but I thought you’d at least be able to do
that
correctly.”

“Hello, Ryan. How can I help you?” You little toad, bastard, fuckface.

“For no reason that I can understand, Katrina, Daniel’s third assistant, set up a meeting for you and Daniel. Apparently you ran into him in the elevator? Awfully well planned for someone like you. You have my admiration.” I had known that my meeting with Daniel was going to pique Ryan’s curiosity, but I didn’t think he’d be so ragingly obvious about it. “So why does Daniel want to see you?” Ryan asked shamelessly.

And I had to admit to myself that it was highly unlikely that he’d grant me a whole meeting simply because I wanted to be a producer. He hadn’t even read the material yet. Why, I wondered, was Daniel even remotely interested in a second assistant’s pet project? But I had no intention of divulging any of my uncertainty to weaselly Ryan. For once I had the cards, and I still hadn’t forgotten about the delivery of my bra via the mailroom.

“I know exactly why he wants to see me, Ryan. And that’s a matter between myself and Daniel. Would he still like me in his office at noon?” I could hear Ryan spitting, or perhaps he was breathing into a paper bag.

“Three o’clock, and be on time. He has a three-fifteen.” Click.

Oh, well. Even though I was scared to death of Daniel and I suspected that his motivations weren’t straight up, at that particular moment I’d have happily faced a pack of rabid dogs just to annoy Ryan.

“Lara, I have a meeting with Daniel Rosen. Can you cover?” I asked Lara when she finally turned up looking remarkably more cheerful than Saturday night, with nary an apology.

She knitted her brow. “Sure. What’s it about?”

“Remember that script I’m trying to produce? I rode the elevator with Daniel and asked him to give me some advice. But I never expected a whole meeting. I didn’t even pitch it to him.” I shrugged my shoulders cluelessly in response to her now deeply furrowed brow.

“That’s random. Watch your back.” Lara shifted her focus to her computer and booted it up. Per usual, she wasn’t working on anything that had to do with The Agency, or Scott Wagner for that matter. I hoped for her sake that she finished soon, because when Scott or, worse, Human Resources finally got wise to her dearth of work, she wasn’t going to be employed for long. I brushed the salt-and-vinegar chips from my skirt, did a quick swipe of my lip gloss, and headed up to meet the big medium-size man.

One was allowed access to Daniel’s penthouse only if granted permission. Kind of like a hall pass in high school. Apparently this was a requirement for insurance purposes, as each of the
objets
scattered around his floor was worth more than my yearly salary. When I stepped onto the other side and walked through the closed door, I was launched into the Los Angeles version of Versailles. Which, let me tell you, was possibly even more spectacular than the Sun King himself could have envisaged. Where the rest of the building was decorated in sleek, modern Eames, Daniel, as had been correctly rumored in the dungeons below, had gone for cornicing, intricately carved doors, mirrored walls, and tapestries, marble, chandeliers, and even statuettes.

“Stop ogling and get into his office. He’s a very busy man, and he’s waiting for you.” Ryan appeared from nowhere wearing a livery uniform of knickerbockers and . . . okay, he was wearing black pants and a collared shirt, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility when one was confronted with this ridiculous spectacle. I looked at my watch. I was one minute early.

I followed Ryan into Daniel’s den. I had been imagining a throne but was disappointed to find only a leather-topped, gilt-edged desk and
an enormous roaring fire, which was odd, as it was ninety-two degrees outside. Apparently Daniel had his floor kept eight degrees cooler than the rest of the building so that he could have his fire burning all year round. On a trip to India, Sai Baba had told him that a fire was needed to burn off the negative energy of a very competitive business and hostile adversaries.

Ryan accompanied me into Daniel’s office. As was to be expected, Daniel was on the phone, with his Gucci loafers propped on his desk. Today he was wearing casual jeans and a white shirt, and he looked like my most harmless preppy college lecturer. Or rather like a $20 million actor playing the part of my most harmless preppy college lecturer. He smiled welcomingly and motioned for me to take a seat. I sat down in one of the enormous leather chairs and fell backward. Daniel hung up the phone and turned all his perfectly capped teeth to face me.

“Hi, Elizabeth. Thanks for coming up to see me.” He winked in an avuncular fashion.

“No problem, thanks for asking me.” I was an idiot already.

“Ryan, why doesn’t Elizabeth have a drink?”

“Well, I thought she was only staying for a few minutes, and—”

“I don’t pay you to think, Ryan. I pay you to do what I tell you to do and to never make judgments as to the importance of my guests. Ask her what she’d like to drink.
Now
.”

I was trying at that very moment to
become
the library chair.

“Elizabeth. Would you like a cold beverage?” Ryan was grinding his teeth while desperately attempting to smile. In order to follow through with my latest attempts at producorial assertiveness, I needed to think up a drink that would make Ryan perform back flips. Cocktail names from my college days whizzed through my head—Fuzzy Navel, Alabama Slammer, or, more appropriately, a Slow Screw. But I obviously didn’t have the vile edge required.

“A Diet Coke would be fine, Ryan.” I could see the wet bar from here. “I can get it myself.” I half stood up, but Daniel interrupted.

“Sit down, Elizabeth. That’s Ryan’s job, not yours. For however long you visit my office. So just relax.”

I was obviously a pawn in a rather twisted power play between boss and assistant. No wonder Ryan was such an evil warped toad.

“So, Elizabeth, we met in D.C., right, at a fund-raiser, and you were
wearing that very pretty floral dress?” I couldn’t believe he remembered. “God is in the details,” my mother used to say.

“What a great memory.” I smiled.

“A prerequisite in this business,” Daniel informed me. “So you can remember who fucked you over in order to screw them back twice as hard when you get the chance.” He laughed, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He wasn’t seeming so fuzzy after all. “Are you happy in Los Angeles, Elizabeth? Was my advice to switch from politics to film correct?”

“Well, it’s certainly been an education. I thought politicians were hard to keep track of.” I was starting to feel more comfortable with Ryan gone from the room.

“Really?” Daniel’s face lit up. “I can imagine that Scott’s probably a handful. Is he in the office a lot?”

Oh, hell, I’d opened up that door by accident, and now I didn’t know how to close it without pissing Daniel off.

“He keeps regular office hours. Just like everyone else, I guess.”

“Then why did you say he was hard to keep track of?” Daniel laughed too loudly for it to be funny. He looked like a movie villain glinting with evil intent.

“I meant the business was hard to keep track of. It’s constantly changing, and there are so many people involved in every deal.” That seemed like an appropriately naïve answer and a good segue into my producing prospects. But Daniel wasn’t finished with me.

“I’ve been a little worried about Scott lately. I ran into his wife, Mia, at a City of Hope fund-raiser, and she seemed at the end of her tether, you know? She sat me down for about twenty minutes and told me how restless Scott was and how maybe he was doing too many drugs. Have you noticed anything, Lizzie? Don’t worry, by the way, you can speak freely. It’s all in Scott’s best interests.”

Yeah, right, I wasn’t born yesterday, buddy, whipped through my mind, but instead I tried on a concerned, thoughtful look for size. With a whisper of stupidity for good measure. “Hmm,” I said. “Well . . .”

As I hammed up my thoughtful consideration Ryan pushed open the oak door of the office with my Diet Coke on a tray. I never thought that I’d be so relieved to see him. He banged the large, frosty glass down on the table in front of me. I was parched but also too paranoid that Ryan had peed in my drink to risk taking a sip.

“Ryan, could you try to be less of an oaf?
Set
the glass down on the table—don’t throw it. Would you try that again, please?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Ryan had to pick up the glass and put it in front of me gently. I had a wave of sympathy for him. I felt like I should call in Human Rights Watch, or at the very least the SPCA. This was sheer cruelty. But then perhaps that’s why they got along so well. I’d started to notice in this business that like attracted like. I’d never heard a single kind story about Ryan, so perhaps he was a twisted fuck before he ever arrived at The Agency. I just hoped that Victoria hadn’t become my mentor because she had thought that we were similar.

Ryan left the room, and I decided to steer the conversation in a direction I was more comfortable with.

“Daniel, this script I’ve agreed to produce is called
Sex Addicts in Love
. The writer/director, Jason Blum, is incredibly talented. I know we can raise the money if we can just get access to the right people. I’ve had a budget done, and we could do it for four million.”

“Have you talked to Scott about this? Have you shown him the script?” Oh, no, he was insidiously accusing me of disloyalty, and he was right.

“Well, not yet. I just ran into you in the elevator and you were so nice and offered to help and . . .”

Daniel’s grin was like a cup of hot chocolate after a sleigh ride. “Elizabeth, relax. I’m not criticizing you. I’m glad you came to me first. I take that as a compliment. Anyway, I
did
hire you, so ultimately you answer to me.” Okay, I could breathe easy again.

But could I? What did that last sentence mean? Daniel had tried to fire me once, and Scott had saved me. Who was I ultimately answerable to? It wasn’t the kind of thing that HR could tell you.

“So tell me what a typical day is like for you as an assistant.” Daniel was getting into his stride.

“It’s pretty standard, really, Daniel.” I smiled innocently. Well, that would be minus the drugs, women, booze, and Lara missing in action, I suppose. “Our office probably runs just like yours. Scott’s at meetings all the time.” I began to expand on how busy Scott was trying to sign this new director and chasing his actresses and getting points for Justin on his first film. Then I realized that I was probably getting a little too comfortable. It was so warm and dark in Daniel’s office. Like a library
in a stately home, and I was being lulled into divulging way too much. Daniel’s incessant questioning was subtle, but it always steered back to Scott and the implication that he was incompetent and irresponsible. In short, Daniel had an agenda, and it had nothing to do with me or the script.

“Does he have meetings with Katherine Watson?” I wondered if
he
thought they were having an affair, too. I’d never mentioned the subject again to Lara, but Katherine seemed to be calling Scott a lot these days, and always directly, without her assistant on the line.

“Not that
I’ve
ever scheduled,” I said truthfully.

He glanced at his watch, which seemed to signal the end of our meeting.

“Elizabeth, why don’t you leave your script with Ryan, and I’ll take a look. It was great seeing you, and I’m really glad we have you at The Agency. I think you’ll make a great addition. Let’s meet again soon and have another one of these very informative chats. I love to know what’s happening at all times with my employees,” he said. My grin was plastered to my face like a bug on a windshield.