Hollywood Hills 1 (3 page)

I hadn’t slept a wink
last night. I almost didn’t come in to work today. When I eventually did drag myself through the door, I devoted myself to avoiding Archer. I let his calls go to voicemail. I asked Goldilocks at the front desk to deliver his correspondence. I asked Christian to get him his coffee.  If Archer thought I was the worst assistant in the world, he’d be right in more ways than one.

How could I have done what I did yesterday?
I’d broken every moral code I’d ever held. I’d betrayed myself, I’d betrayed the film company, and worse, I’d betrayed Archer. For some reason that stung worst of all.

I’d wanted to be an actress, long ago. I’d grown up watching all those Technicolor musicals and thought how grand it would be, to be a starlet. I’d even done film school for a while—gone as far as getting profile photos taken. 
Hadn’t I been a fool
.

Who would have thought that when I finally did make it to a studio, it would be under false pretenses? In the movies, being a spy was glamorous. Standing up for what was right, taking down henchmen, defeating the bad guys… I’d thought about that sometimes.

It turned out real life wasn’t like the movies. Especially when you were the henchman, not the heroine, and you
worked for the bad guys.

Lunch was bland and tasteless. My afternoon coffee was a guilty, bitter sludge that slimed down my throat. By the time five o’clock came, I’d determined that on the way home I’d be buying cigarettes. I was walking past his office, headed for the door, when he found me.

“Josie.”

I jumped. I hadn’t realized he was back from his meetings yet.
Otherwise I would have climbed out the window
.

“Josie?”

“Yes?” I squeaked.

“What are you up to?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“I’m… ah, nothing? Going home?”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Maybe it was the guilt, but I couldn’t help myself. “Anything I can do for you?”

He smiled. “That’s very kind, but I was just going to ask for a coffee. No problems if you’re going home, I can get it myself.”

“You know you shouldn’t drink caffeine after midday right? Otherwise you won’t sleep.”
What was I doing? He said I could go!

Archer laughed. “People who say that don’t have long nights ahead of them.”

“Oh? Big plans?”
Seriously Josie? You spend all day avoiding the man, then you hang around to see if he has a girlfriend?

“You could say that,” he grinned. “It’s sort of a tradition, something I do every week.” He smiled, then cocked his head. “Hey—do you have plans?”

Say you’re busy. Say you’re busy
— “No…”

His eyes lit up.  “I was just thinking, if you don’t, maybe you could come with me. Dinner will be included, if that sweetens the deal any. The only drawback is that you’d have to eat it with me.”

I stuttered like a fool. On the one hand, I didn’t deserve to ever see this wonderful man again. On the other… he’d just asked me to dinner.
How could I say no?

There wasn’t anything wrong with grabbing a bite to eat with him, was there? I mean, what was done was done. It was an excuse, I knew it. But I’d just had such a miserable day, and suddenly I wanted more than anything to spend time with the one person I knew consistently made me feel happy.

“Um, y-y-yeah, I mean, n-no… I don’t have plans, I mean, n-nothing important anyway… As long as it’s nowhere fancy,” I managed to stutter, a nervous laugh bubbling up from my throat.

He only smiled wider. “Fancy, this is not.”

* * *

We walked down to his car, picking up coffees for us both on the way. I had expected him to drive something fast and flashy, but instead he pointed me in the direction of a modest SUV.

“So where are we going, if it’s not rude of me to ask?”

“You’ll see,” he winked.

I gave him a
Look.
He relented. “Okay, fine. When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time at local rec centers; you know, like Boys & Girls Clubs, that sort of thing. I… didn’t have a great home life.” I glanced over and noted his clenched jaw. I decided it would be best not to pry.

He shrugged, opening the door for me. “Anyway, I try to give back when I can.”

“So… what? You visit them? Take some kids out to dinner?” I still wasn’t sure how this fit together.

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

30 minutes later we arrived at a Mexican restaurant, but instead of pulling up in front Archer drove us around to the back of the building. I frowned, but kept my mouth shut—something that became decidedly harder and harder to do as a series of employees began ferrying boxes into the back of the SUV. A delicious aroma filled the car.

I turned toward Archer again. I gave him another
Look
. “Spill it. What’s going on.”

He laughed. “It’s not all for us, I swear.”

When the boot was packed to the roof he thanked the employees in Spanish, confirmed that his regular payment had been made, then handed over a sizeable tip. “There are three Boys & Girls Clubs in the area,” he explained, pulling away from the restaurant. “Every Friday night I stop by with food for the kids and the people who work there.”

I helped unload the food at each location. Archer was like the Pied Piper—at each one, kids flocked to him, the younger ones hugging him, the older giving him high fives.

An administrator joined me at one of the stops after we had finished unloading. I was standing to the side watching Archer distribute food. “Are you a friend of Archer’s?” she asked, her voice warm. She broke into a huge smile as a little kid ran screaming past her, his mouth full of burrito.

“I’m his assistant.”

She shook my hand, and we turned back to the throng of kids digging into boxes. They were pulling out burritos, boxes of corn chips, salsa and guacamole, and bottled water and soda.

“The kids look forward to this all week,” she explained. “They can’t wait to see ‘Mr. Archer’.”

“It certainly is a good thing he’s doing,” I said. I meant it too; another tick on an increasingly long list. I’d arrived at the film studios thinking he’d be a rich fat cat with sleazy hands and a tight fist. Instead I found him not just trying to save the world, but his neighborhood, too.

“He’s smart about how he does it,” the administrator commented as another screaming child ran by. “These kids come from underprivileged families—they eat whatever they can afford. That usually means junk food.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “He knew they wouldn’t eat salads— what kid likes a salad?—so he gets them Mexican, instead. It’s like hiding broccoli in the mashed potato, except here it’s fresh, healthy, organic food wrapped in a burrito. I can almost guarantee it will be the best meal they have all week.”

When we got back into the SUV, full of nothing now but empty boxes, we sat in satisfied silence for several minutes.

“That was really something,” I said, finally. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Words didn’t feel strong enough to sum up the experience I’d just partaken in.
The look of joy on all those faces. The look of joy on Archer’s
. I had shivers up and down my arms.

I reached over to squeeze his leg. “You’re a good man.”

“It was nothing, really. I think I get more out of it sometimes than the kids.”

I laughed. “And
that’s
why you’re a good man!”

He started the car and I looked out the window, feeling that certain kind of satisfaction you only get from helping people. It was only after several moments that I realized my hand was still on his leg. And he hadn’t removed it.

“It’s dark. Super awesome,” I
joked. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t need any help tripping over my feet.”

Archer had asked me where I wanted to eat after our food run. I’d told him somewhere cheap, with a nice view. We were now standing at the entrance to one of his enormous movie production hangars. I’d never been inside one before, but I knew they were four stories high, and expansive.

“Are we eating on one of your sets?” I continued. “I guess that would be cheap…”

He laughed. “Not quite. Although your choice of words is interesting, this is just a detour.” He walked me forward into the darkness. “Here, stand here,” he said. “I’ll get the lights.”

I waited, hands clasped, in the middle of a soundstage. I heard him move away from me, his footsteps echoing. I could see vague shapes looming all around and suddenly I was terrified—in that strange way only darkness can make a person feel afraid.

Then the lights came on, one group at a time. Pinks, yellows, whites, blues. As they did, I gasped.

“What do you think?”

I was standing in the middle of a beautiful jungle glade. Scattered moss and leaves dusted the uneven floor; gnarled trunks clung to lichen covered rocks before me. “
Freaking hell
,” I whispered.

I turned in a slow circle. Behind me, it was obvious we were on a movie set. Cameras were aligned in a row, with spotlights shining down from the roof. The door we had come from was directly behind. But ahead—it was like looking through a mirror into another world; a richly forested jungle with trees that towered high above. I walked cautiously forward, half expecting a snake to slither around a tree branch when I did.

“It’s the setting for a documentary we’re creating on Amazon tribes,” Archer said, striding toward me from the console he’d been at. He reminded me vaguely of a panther, with his lithe, powerful body. “We’ve mapped and recreated several parts of the jungle here, so that our presenters can film fully clothed while discussing tribes and habits.”

He reached my side, and put a hand to his mouth as if about to tell me a secret. “They don’t wear any clothes there,” he whispered loudly. “And it would be bad form if we did in their presence.”

“Archer, this is amazing!”

He grinned. “I thought you might like it.”

“
Can
we eat here?” I was carrying our picnic—burritos wrapped in foil, nachos with guacamole and salsa, and a bottle of red wine.

He shook his head, but grinned again. “Nope. Like I said, this is just a detour. We needed to go through here to get to where we’re going.

I frowned. “Through the jungle? Where exactly are we eating?”

He took my hand. “Well, it’s actually like you said. We’re eating on one of my sets—on the roof, to be precise.

* * *

“You never cease to amaze me—you know that, don’t you?”

We’d walked up a fire escape on the far side of the jungle and emerged into starlit paradise. If
this
stage hadn’t been so large, I would have sworn it was another movie set. Behind us, the million twinkling lights of Los Angeles glittered and sparkled; before us, nine iconic letters spelt out the word HOLLYWOOD on a distant hill.

Our legs were dangling through an old white railing that lined the rooftop. Archer was pouring expensive wine into two cheap plastic cups.

During the day the studio was busy and full of bustle. But by night up here, alone on the roof—it was like there were just the two of us, alone in the entire world. He handed me a drink. “So,” he asked, taking a sip from his own glass, then looking out into the distance, “did I do good?”

“Are you talking about the meal, the view, or the 500 happy, hungry children you fed earlier? Do you really do this every week?”

He nodded, biting into his burrito. “I do. Well, the feeding the kids thing, anyway. I’ve never taken
anyone else
up here before. It’s kind of my own special little spot. If you ever can’t find me when it’s time to sign boring reports, this is where I’ll be.”

I chuckled. “I’m honored you’d tell me that.” Then my face turned somber. “In seriousness though… thank you. This is really special.”

“I… wanted to. I’ve been thinking about taking you up here for a while now.” He shifted. “Anyway, enough of that—otherwise, you’ll start thinking your boss is a creep. How were your first two weeks at work? Do you think you might get along well with your boss?”

I laughed. “I’ve had worse.”

His grin widened. “In Hollywood, that wouldn’t be hard.”

“I’m sure. I’ve heard horror stories,” I said. “Casting couches, that sort of thing.”

“I don’t want to be that sort of filmmaker,” he said quietly. He looked out toward distant glowing lights. “That world, so focused on the box office and filling seats—that’s not me anymore.

He dipped a corn chip in guacamole. “I love a movie as much as the next person—hell, I’ve made enough of them. But I’m starting to realize that they don’t just have to be for entertainment. They can be forces for good, too. Social change, awareness campaigns, things like that.”

“Is that… what your current project is focused on?” I asked cautiously. He hadn’t said much about it, though of course I knew a lot.

“I’m working on several projects concurrently,” he replied, chewing thoughtfully. “There’s a couple of your more conventional blockbusters in there—a
Lord of the Rings
style epic set in the land of the Faerie, and an
Alice in Wonderland
remake as well, but I do those now really just to fund the more personal projects. You saw the Amazon set downstairs already, and I’ve got something I’m working on in pre-production, too.”

I swallowed, already knowing the answer, but needing to ask. “What’s that about?”

“Dirty companies—one in particular,” he said. “It’s a huge company; it has arms in pharmaceuticals, oil and gas, tobacco, even film. In America they are a model of good behavior, but in Third World countries it’s a different story. They sell cigarettes individually in India, dump waste in Nigeria, employ child labor in China.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then pulled an audio tape from his jacket pocket. “Janus put on such a good front here in America, but I think I’ve finally got something that will bring them down.” He slipped it back where it came from. “You’d be surprised how far they’ll go to achieve their goals. Once the film is finished, I plan to take this straight to the authorities.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Yes, I knew all about how far Janus was willing to go to achieve their goals.
It was why they’d made me take the job with Archer.
My eyes looked down. The burrito wrapper scrunched tightly in my hands.

Archer’s finger rose to my chin, lifting it. “Hey, where did you go?” he asked. “You just suddenly tensed up.”

“Just thinking about dreams,” I admitted. “How fragile they are. I wonder if there’s a dream being shattered right now, this very minute. I guess the odds are with it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Could be. That’s why we’re going to score one for the little guys,” he said, patting his pocket again.

He had no idea what he was up against
. Was he that nice of a guy that he could find out all of the dirty, nasty things Janus was capable of, yet never imagine them turning their sights on him?

“Archer, do you ever… do you ever wonder that these companies might not like what you’re doing to them? That maybe they’re big and nasty enough to want to hurt anyone that gets in their way?”

He shrugged. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t think of that. But what sort of person would I be if I let the bully win? Sooner or later you have to stand up for yourself. You have to say ‘even if this hurts me, it’s worth it, because there are more important things out there.’”

“I… I don’t know if I could be that strong, Archer.”

He smiled. “You could. I know it.

I shook my head. “No you don’t. Some of the things I’ve done-”

His finger went to my lips. “That’s the wrong way to talk. It’s not about what you’ve done. It’s about what you’re going to do next.”

It couldn’t be that simple, could it? I’d done so many things. I was in so deep. And yet, as Archer slipped his arm around my waist, suddenly I felt as if I could do it, if I tried.
Whereas before the future had been bleak, now it was tinged with hope
. “If I needed to be strong, could you help me?” I asked softly.

“Of course.”

“Even if I couldn’t tell you what it was about?”

His free hand took mine. “Yes. I believe in you,” he said softly.
Then he leaned in, and kissed me.