The First Assistant (21 page)

“I split Carmen’s ass,” she chortled, “and it was really big.” She dumped some candy in my lap and turned to Chris.

“So, Chris, where do you live in LA?” she said with a seemingly genuine smile. She grabbed a margarita on the rocks from a passing waiter and sat down next to us.

“Malibu,” he said warily. He’d obviously had more practice than I’d had at predicting a change in the weather.

“Where in Malibu?” Emerald persisted. I probably should have intervened, but all I could do was smile and think how nice it was that we were all friends.

“In The Colony,” Chris said. And it suddenly occurred to me that for the first time he seemed a bit uncomfortable.

“That’s where my house is too. Cool, we’ll be neighbors. So is anyone at your house right now?”

“Why?” Chris was starting to squirm in his chair.

“Well the rug fitters are coming by. And I have a key hidden under a rock by the front door.” I looked at Emerald, wondering where on earth this was going, and then she dropped the bomb. “The script supervisor mentioned that your girlfriend worked from home. Do you think there’s any way she could let them in? Her name is Susie, right? I hope I’m not imposing. I hear she’s like some famous romance writer or something. Probably explains the house in The Colony, huh?”

Chris looked from Emerald to me like a snared rabbit. Emerald’s tol-erance for illegal substances was obviously much higher than mine as her wits seemed to be completely intact. I, on the other hand, was struggling to keep up.

“Emerald, did you just say that Chris has a girlfriend he
lives
with?” I said stupidly.

Chris turned his back on Emerald and looked at me. “Lizzie. I wanted to tell you about her, but it’s complicated. We’ve been together for ten years and.. .”

“You’re a liar?” I said, blinking like a mole emerging from its hole.

Chris put up a hand in protest. “I am not a liar. I never told you I

didn’t
have a girlfriend.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Emerald looked pretty pleased with herself.

“But you were supposed to have integrity. You were supposed to be different.”

“Listen, Lizzie. I was going to break up with her when I got back. I just didn’t think it was fair to do it over the phone. You’re special. I promise. I really want to get to know you better.”

I looked at him and wanted to believe. It wasn’t that I really cared about him as a person. I barely knew him, but I really wanted to believe that there was something real and honest and wholesome left in the world. I teetered for a second.

“That is such a load of shit, Chris,” Emerald jumped in. “Apparently you fall in love with a new girl every time you go on location and then go back to Susie the second your plane hits the tarmac in LA.”

Chris looked at Emerald in fury, but I could see from the look on his face that his game was up.

Thankfully, I was too stunned and stoned to move as it would have been impossible to make a dramatic exit on crutches without looking like a total idiot.

Chris stood up, knocking over the plastic chair he was sitting in. “I don’t have to sit here and take these insults.” And with that he turned around and stormed off. In disbelief I watched him go.

Emerald picked up his chair and dusted off her hands. “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” she said, looking like the cat that ate the canary. I knew I felt upset, but the painkillers and tequila seemed to send a different message to my brain. I started to laugh and then stood up abruptly, forgetting about my ankle. Pain surged through my body as I put my full

weight on it. I almost fell over, but Emerald was there to catch me. “Lizzie, are you okay?” She looked genuinely worried. I grabbed my

crutches.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just need to get out of here.”

“Okay. Let’s take a walk on the beach.” Emerald grabbed a bottle of tequila. She walked and I hobbled toward the sea.

I only made it a few feet away from the lights of the hotel before I collapsed. Walking in sand on crutches intoxicated was no easy feat.

Emerald sat down next to me and cracked the bottle. We each did a few shots.

“So are you mad at me for telling you about Chris?” she asked nervously. “No,” I said after a few seconds. “I guess I don’t really care. Would

have been better if you’d told me in private.”

“Yeah, I know. I actually heard the rumors on set earlier but needed confirmation before I told you.”

I watched her as she practically gulped the bottle of tequila. “Take it easy girl,” I said, taking the bottle away from her. “If you pass out I won’t be able to carry you back to the hotel.”

“Lizzie?” She looked like she was about to say something but stopped.

“Yeah?”

And then it happened; she lunged at me. You know the kind of lunge that happened when you were sixteen and the boy next door, who your mom made you go out with, was dropping you home after a movie. I was so stunned I just sat there as she kissed me on the lips. But when she stuck her tongue in my mouth, I quickly snapped back to reality. I pulled away and shook my head.

“Emerald . . .” I didn’t know what to say as she looked like a puppy dog and I didn’t quite have the heart to crush its little head.

Emerald was focusing on her hands now, embarrassed.

“But you went to bed with the basketball player and Jake Hudson,” I said, stupefied.

“Yeah. So what? Anyway, it never hurts to have a studio head in your back pocket if you need one,” she said honestly.

“So you’re gay then?” I asked, even more confused. “Not really. Just bicurious I guess.”

“Do you have a crush on me?” I was really struggling to understand what was happening here.

Emerald went silent and thought for a while. “I just really like you. You’re the first person who has been honest with me in years. I don’t want you to leave me.”

“So you thought if we had lesbian sex I’d stay?”

“Yeah, basically,” Emerald said, like it was the most logical thing any-one had ever said.

“Emerald. Sex doesn’t make people stay.” I considered the sentiment for a second. “Well, not for any period of time,” I corrected. I could tell Emerald didn’t quite believe me.

“So you’ll stay with me and be my friend as long as I don’t kiss you again?” she said and looked up at me hopefully with her big green eyes.

“Exactly,” I said firmly.

But that wasn’t true, either. The last twenty-four hours had made me really miss home. I’d run away from everything I’d built in the last two years. And though it had been the distraction I’d needed, being the per-manent playmate for a damaged nineteen-year-old wasn’t my goal in life. My face was clearly an open book as Emerald seemed to read my mind. Again.

“I know being my assistant isn’t enough for a smarty-pants like you. So why don’t you be my producer? Warner Bros. wants to give me a producing deal and you can have whatever job you want. We’d have so much fun as a team. We’d be like sisters. Come on, Lizzie. What do you say?” Emerald said persuadingly.

What could I say? This was what I’d been dreaming of since I came to Hollywood, but not really.

“You don’t need that silly Luke Lloyd,” Emerald continued. “Even if you did get back together, you’d always worry that he was kissing some ex-girlfriend behind your back.”

As quickly as the fantasy had blossomed, it withered on the vine. Emerald may not want to have sex with me, but she wasn’t happy with anything less than ownership. It just made her feel too insecure. I could never work for Emerald and have a life of my own at the same time.

“You can’t refuse this offer, Lizzie. I’ll give you five minutes to think about it. Don’t talk to me until you say yes,” she said with that edge in her voice that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

I looked around for a distraction, but it was dark and there was nothing to interrupt us but the stars, sand, and swaying palm trees. I couldn’t even get up and scurry away. I cursed my crutches. Then it happened. Scott saved me. Emerald’s phone rang.

“I’m not answering it.” She let it go to voice mail. But then a second

later my phone started to ring. Emerald looked at me challengingly as I grabbed it.

“Emerald. It’s obviously important. I have to. It’s my job.” I put the phone to my ear. “Lizzie Miller,” I said. Scott’s voice boomed through the receiver. I held it away from my ear.

“Lizzie, what the fuck are you doing? We have a crisis here. Pictures of America’s teen sweetheart drunk on the bar in the American Airlines lounge doing a striptease have just appeared in
Star.
And it happened on your watch. This is a media nightmare. Disney withdrew their offer for her next film. And I’m guessing Warner is about to do the same. And her cosmetics contract has just been canceled too. Is she with you? Put her on the phone.” I handed Emerald the phone in shock.

How did those pictures get out, I wondered. I’d taken the film from the paparazzo’s camera and sent it to Scott to destroy properly. I’d have to ask him about it when I got back. Maybe someone else was there photographing the incident. I was clearly in over my head. I looked at Emerald, who had suddenly gone very pale. I’d never heard her so docile. She just kept saying, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Then she hung up the phone and turned to me. “Lizzie, you’re going home. Anyway, it doesn’t look like I’ll have a job to offer you anymore.” I felt immense relief, but also horror. Did that mean I was fired from The Agency too? How was any of this my fault? I couldn’t imagine go-ing back to LA without a job or a home. And if this did mean I was axed, what was I going to do with my life now? Thank God I’d been stashing away that per diem. Maybe I’d just make a clean break, throw in the towel, and move back in with my parents in D.C. I could try to get in touch with some of my old contacts in politics. But the thought of mov-ing back east really depressed me. I’d become addicted to the manic pace and excitement of Hollywood life. I didn’t want to leave yet. Anyway, I still had so much to accomplish.

“Scott says he needs you in the office. You’re going back home on the first plane tomorrow. He’s sending in a professional to do damage control,” Emerald said as she picked up a handful of sand and let the grains run through her fingers.

A sigh of relief slipped from my lips.

“I guess it’s for the best. Who wants to hear the truth all the time anyway? If I did I wouldn’t have become an actress,” she said with a lit-tle shrug.

I wrapped my arms around her in a big sisterly hug. “Emerald, I’m sorry. But if you ever need a friend, you can always trust me. I promise I’d never sell you out.”

Emerald gave a hard laugh as I struggled to get up on my crutches. “No, of course you wouldn’t. You signed a confidentiality agreement. I’d sue you.” So that was going to be the way it ended. I tried to make eye contact, but she wouldn’t look up.

“I should go and pack. Are you okay?” I said.

“I’m fine. See ya.” This was a clear dismissal. I stood there for a sec-ond, but she still didn’t look up. I turned around and was about to walk away when I noticed my bracelet glinting in the moonlight. I took it off, turned around, and held it in front of her face.

“You might want this back,” I said.

But Emerald shook her head violently. “No. It was a gift,” she said. I could hear the tears in her voice. “Have a safe trip, Lizzie. You better go. You’ve got a lot of packing to do.”

“Well, thanks.” I stood there wishing she’d at least come back to the hotel with me. “ ’Bye again.”

There was nothing left to say, so I turned around and hopped off down the beach on my one good leg. I stopped to catch my breath and looked back over my shoulder at the solitary figure of Emerald sitting in the sand.

Emerald Everhart was one of the most desired woman in the world, yet she was one of the loneliest people I’d ever met in my life.

Thirteen

Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you a thousand dollars for a

kiss and fifty cents for your soul.

—Marilyn Monroe

It was strange being back in Los Angeles. Right after I’d left for Thailand, Lara had gone over to Luke’s and piled my belongings into a duf-fel bag or three and slid the key back through the mail slot. So now, as I sat on the plush double bed in Lara and Scott’s guesthouse, where I was staying until I found somewhere new to live, I rummaged through the remnants of my former life as the girlfriend of Luke Lloyd. A life that seemed so far away that I’d almost forgotten who that girl was. The Lizzie Miller sitting here now was a slightly more cynical, much more resourceful and worldly creature than the girl who’d hopped on a plane to Thailand a month ago. Which had its drawbacks—now I was also less sure than I had ever been in my life of just what direction my life and career should take. Which wasn’t a state I was given to. So maybe this was the moment—maybe I’d finally grown up enough to know that you can’t always know.

Fortunately I wasn’t due back at The Agency until Monday—three days away—so I had a little time on my hands to ponder my future. Unfortunately this process was more painful that I could ever have anticipated. Most significant, it was the first time since I’d first laid eyes on “that photograph” in
People
magazine that I’d had to listen to myself think. For the past five weeks I’d endured an unending cacophony of demands from Emerald, so silence had never been an option. Now, though, in the still of the afternoon, it was deafening. Forget facing the music, now I was forced to face the silence.

I pulled out my black Azzaro dress. The night I had worn it I’d gotten my first hint that Luke and I had not been alone in our relationship. Emanuelle had glued herself to Luke’s side during the premiere and my insecurities had bubbled to the surface when he’d almost proposed to me. I should have gone with him to Prague, I should have given up my dumb, meaningless job and followed him. I could have read Russian novels all afternoon, learned rudimentary Czech, volunteered at a local school, and looked pretty and ready to take to dinner when he came back from a cold day’s shoot. Then all this would never have happened. Luke was a man like any other and he wanted his woman by his side, I thought with the lunacy of heartbreak.