The First Assistant (12 page)

“But we’re in Thailand. There is no drinking age,” she whined.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Obviously she kind of liked being told what to do. Still, it was an experiment I reminded myself not to repeat too of-ten. I’d seen something in her eyes for a brief second that had made my blood run a little bit colder than usual. I decided to soften my approach. “That’s not the point, Emerald. I can’t deal with a repeat of the airport. I only brought so many clothes and I don’t like the smell of puke,”

I told her.

She didn’t seem to get the irony as she opened the minibar and started routing around. “Oh is that all? I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe. Yours was looking a bit boring, anyway.”

I walked to the minibar and slammed it shut. Practically taking her perfect little nose with it. “I like my wardrobe. And if we’re going to go out in Bangkok together I need you to have just one of your wits intact. Okay? Listen, I’m not your mother, but.. .”

“That’s obvious,” she interrupted with a guffaw. “Mom was the one

who gave me my first cocktail when I was ten. She said it kept me quiet. You’re not one of those Christian Right kind of people, are you?”

I was having a moment of empathy for Emerald’s mother when this latest insult knocked me sideways.

“Fuck no!” I had to put in the fuck to emphasize my heathen morals. “You can have a drink when we get to the club. Okay? I just don’t want to have to carry you there.”

This seemed to make sense to Emerald. “Oh. Okay. Why didn’t you just say so?” she said as she opened the fridge again. I was certain I’d lost the battle until she pulled out a Diet Coke and gave me a mischie-vous wink. “I think we’re going to have a really good time, Lizzie.” Her smile was contagious and for a brief second I almost believed her. She did have a point. We were only in Bangkok for a night and though I felt like an old lady compared to Emerald, I was under thirty and did have a vague recollection of how to have a good time without a boyfriend.

“Okay, Emerald. Why don’t I meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes and we’ll hit the town,” I said, and glanced at my tightly zipped suitcase. “If I can find anything in my bag, that is.”

Emerald was halfway to the door when her eyes lit up like a birthday cake. She spun around with a big grin. “You so don’t want to unzip that bag. I can just tell that it’ll take you hours to get it packed again,” she warned, and she wasn’t wrong. I really didn’t relish the idea of getting up an hour early tomorrow to repack my bag, only to unpack it again an hour later when we reached Phuket.

“Oh my God! I have the best idea in the world! I’ll dress you tonight!” Emerald squealed with delight. My face must have registered shock and horror as I examined her micro mini and sequined top. Don’t get me wrong, she could carry it off, but either my boobs weren’t as young or hers weren’t as real. I think I gave an audible gag.

“Please, Lizzie, it’ll be so much fun. And the good thing is you won’t run into anyone you know!” She wasn’t as dumb as she looked. “It’ll be so much easier. Then you won’t have to open your bag and you’ll get to sleep an extra hour in the morning.” She was reading my mind and I was teetering dangerously.

Part of being a star is having absolute confidence in what you put on

your body. If you have the attitude, you can get away with almost anything. Hence dresses that make a woman’s career: Liz Hurley and her Versace safety pins. Jennifer Lopez and her handkerchief outfit. Lizzie Miller and her split minidress?

I stood there on the street corner looking like a prostitute. A very expensive one, as the piece of fabric I was wearing was worth three thousand dollars. Though I was certain someone somewhere must be rolling with laughter, because the black piece of jersey that barely skimmed my behind must have cost all of ten cents to make. It wasn’t the length that made me self-conscious, though I’ve always hated my knees, but the fact that there was no material from my neck right down to my belly button and a repeat down the back. The entire thing was actually strung together at my shoulders by a fat-link silver chain. My boobs were stuck in with some tape and every time I moved, the draped bits swung in a way that suggested a game of peekaboo wasn’t far off. Thankfully Emerald and I had different shoe sizes so I got to wear my combat boots, which gave the whole thing a slightly rocker vibe that I preferred to the Peninsula hooker look.

Not only had Emerald dressed me, but she’d done my makeup as well. All the while assuring me that she’d gone to school to be a makeup artist before she’d started acting. When I looked in the mirror and asked a few more questions, I realized that “school” was the beauty counter at Bloomingdales. Hence the overabundance of slightly orange foundation and the plethora of green eye shadow.

But as we climbed into the tuk-tuk, a form of cart on the back of a moped and the only mode of transportation in Bangkok, I was filled with a sudden rush of excitement. Though Luke and I still hadn’t spo-ken and he had no idea where I was, in my head we’d already broken up. So as far as I was concerned I was single, I was young, and I had the world at my feet. It was time to enjoy and experience life. Who knew what would happen with Luke in the future, but for now I was free and it was time I took full advantage of it. Instead of looking at this trip merely as a means of escape, I was going to look at it as a way of broad-ening my horizons. I had to think of this as a get-out-of-jail-free card. If

Luke was off canoodling with Emanuelle, I’d be a total fool to just sit here in Thailand pining over someone I’d never had in the first place. Zac’s tennis instruction had been even more helpful than I’d thought. I was going to approach this trip like I’d just emerged from the womb. I could be whoever I wanted, forget the past. And tonight I was going to be Lizzie Miller, friend and playmate to Emerald Everhart. Hell, I looked the part, I might as well act it.

Riding side by side in the tuk-tuk we were speechless. It was eleven o’clock at night and the sheer multitude of people on the street was overwhelming. The cars were backed up, honking, and the tuk-tuks were swerving treacherously in and out of the stand-still traffic. Our driver’s name was Klahan, which he happily informed us meant “brave” in Thai. And by the way he was driving, I didn’t doubt it. When he’d picked us up outside the hotel, he’d looked us up and down and had smiled knowingly. “
Patpong. Patpong.
Ladies want good time.”

I wasn’t sure if he was suggesting we buy a good time or sell a good time, but I decided to go with it.

“You famous, right?” Klahan smiled his toothy grin as he drove along. Emerald preened. There was nothing that a movie star liked more than being recognized, especially in a foreign country.

“I didn’t know my movies played in Thailand. I guess it’s probably no surprise, though, since I have been in twelve films. I know. I know it’s hard to believe as I am only nineteen. But—”

Klahan interrupted Emerald in midgush. “You in movies, too?” He looked at Emerald briefly and then turned to me. “You with the split dress,” he said, staring down at my crotch while almost steering us into a parked truck. “You in that movie where naughty girl show your nono on camera.”

Emerald, who’d been looking rather irritated at not being recognized, let out a guffaw.

“No. I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m not an actress of any kind. Would you mind just keeping your eye on the road, please?” My newly found enthusiasm vanished. I just wanted to go home and put on some clothes. I waited a moment and then turned to Emerald.

“Emerald. Maybe I’ll just go back to the hotel and pull on a pair of

jeans,” I said, trying not to sound like being mistaken for a porn star by a Thai tuk-tuk driver meant anything to my obviously fragile self-image. But Emerald was thrilled and had bonded with Klahan as a result.

“Don’t be silly, Lizzie. We’ve got the best driver in Bangkok and I bet he’ll show us around if we ask nicely. Right, Klahan?”

Klahan was now completely uninterested in me and only had eyes for Emerald, which was better for all concerned. Emerald dug a hundred-dollar bill out of her purse and waved it in Klahan’s face. He grabbed it, smelled it, and fell in love for life.

“Sure, little missy. I be your guide and bodyguard as long as you in Bangkok.”

Great, I thought grumpily, as I tried to pull down my skirt and take in the sights at the same time.

Klahan kept his word and was the best tourguide two scantily-clad Americans could have. I even asked him about the history of the area, and he happily launched into a bit of local lore, much to Emerald’s disdain. I was fascinated and I couldn’t believe the entire area was owned by one family. It had once been a plantation and now the four acres was the center of the biggest sex industry in the world. There were over a hundred clubs and the family who owned it made over ten million baht monthly on rent alone.

“The Patpongpanichs are a very wealthy family,” said Klahan reverently. “They bought Patpong from bank of Indochina for sixty thousand baht. Very smart.”

Emerald started to giggle as he parked his tuk-tuk on a main street. “Patpon
garich
? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

I started to laugh, too, as did Klahan, after he finally caught on. “Yes. Patpongarich. I get it.”

We stepped out onto the street and were immediately sucked into the flow of people. There were so many neon lights, it felt like Vegas. I was holding on to Klahan’s arm hoping not to lose him when I realized Emerald had disappeared.

“Lizzie! Over here!” I saw her standing in front of a window, waving me over. I hurried toward her and we both stared in confusion. In the window were twenty girls sitting on stools in various stages of undress.

Each one had a number hanging around her neck. They were chatting and generally looking bored.

“Why are they sitting in there?” I asked naively.

Klahan smiled widely. “They hooker. You order up the number inside.

See?” He pointed around the alley to the door.

“You mean it’s like takeout?” Emerald asked baffled.

“Exactly! Saves time picking girl and hopefully the girls so cute it pulls you in.” He gave us a sly look. “If you interested I know much bet-ter place. Much prettier girls.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re girls. Let’s go!” I said. The scene was unbelieveable. It was four acres of sex. So overwhelming that the human body began to lose its appeal. Well, certainly its novelty. On sale right next to the sex was an enormous outdoor market hawking every imaginable designer rip-off. Now this was something I could get excited about. “Emerald, look at these!” I held up a perfect copy of this season’s

Chloe handbag.

“Amazing!” Emerald said as she bought a dozen in every color. “I’ll send them to all my cousins back home. They’ll never know the difference,” she said, thrilled with the deal. To be honest I couldn’t tell the difference, either. And I was looking closely. The leather was soft and the label in the right place. Even the big chunky gold lock was deadly heavy. “Are these fakes?” I asked stupidly. The woman at the stall shook her

head convincingly.

“Nah, fake. Real leather.” I decided I was fighting a losing battle and handed over my twenty dollars. Then I emptied my scruffy Coach bag and tossed it into the trash. It was oddly liberating.

But then I saw the Rolexes and my heart plummeted. There in the pile of imitations was the same watch that Luke wore. The green bezeled anniversary edition that he’d so proudly shown me when he’d first bought it. “How much?” I asked on impulse. Just then Emerald walked over.

She looked at me oddly as I negotiated for the man’s watch.

“Why the long face?” she asked perceptively. I had no intention of pouring my heartache out on my boss, but at that particular moment she felt like a girlfriend and I needed to tell someone. The man handed me the watch and I slid it onto my wrist.

“My boyfriend had one just like this. We broke up two days ago, though I haven’t told him yet. No big deal.” I looked at the watch and burst into tears. I hadn’t cried since seeing the picture of Luke and Emanuelle and it felt really good to let it all out. And before I could see it coming, Emerald threw her arms around my neck and gave me an enormous bear hug.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said genuinely, as she embraced me like a little child, burying my face into her ample bosom. I had promised my-self that I wouldn’t discuss my private life on the job and here I was on our first night out already sobbing in my boss’s arms. I really had to get a handle on things. I gently pulled away, swallowing my tears.

“Thanks for the support, Emerald. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said bravely as Emerald gave a big sigh.

“Of course you will. Fuck him. There are plenty of fish in the sea. I bet he wasn’t worth the ground you walk on.”

I wished for a second that that was the case. “I don’t know. He was pretty great. I think it was probably my fault. . . .” And the problem was I believed every word I was saying. I’d practically driven him into Emanuelle’s arms. He had wanted me and somehow I’d made him want her.

“Come on. Let’s go get wasted.” Emerald grabbed my hand and gave it a tug.

“Sure. Why not?” In for a penny in for a pound, I decided. Alcohol was probably the only way to soothe my broken heart, and at that very moment I really didn’t care how much my head hurt in the morning.

Eight

You can’t find any true closeness in Hollywood because everyone does the fake closeness so well.

—Carrie Fisher

“A Slow Screw, please!” Emerald bellowed to the bartender with a flick of her flaxen locks. The bartender looked perplexed and just stood there staring at her blankly. I usually wouldn’t have intervened, but I knew that Emerald had no idea what a Slow Screw was. She’d only ever had the fast variety in club bathrooms. The order had been placed solely for optimum shock value. And shocking this bartender was not going to be an easy feat. First, we were standing in a bar called Screw Boy Go-Go and up and down the streets were establishments with names like Super Pussy’s and Pou Pee. And second, there were ladies removing their panties while circling their legs like windmills at his eye level. And not even this distraction made the bartender overpour a sin-gle shot. So nothing Emerald Everhart could do or say would surprise anyone tonight. It was this realization that set me free. And I needed a night of forgetting—to be anonymous and drown my sorrows without having to worry that it would be posted on the message board at The Agency the next day by Amber and her little team of spies and back-stabbers. Or that I’d turn a corner and see another picture on the newsstand of the perfect and sexy Emanuelle with her fangs in the neck of the man I loved. Well, at least thought I’d loved until he’d turned into a rat.