The First Assistant (33 page)

satin shirt and black skirt. “I wonder who she’s fucking?”

“Amber,” I said, and stopped in my tracks. She put her phone down on the counter and picked up a drink without missing a beat. “How are you sleeping at night? I hear the guilt becomes harder to bear with time.”

“Guilt, are you joking?” she scoffed. “I’m loving every minute behind your desk, and in a couple of weeks I’ve got an interview at Paramount for a development executive position.”

“Great, well maybe you’ll be working on Lizzie’s next movie,” Lara said with a snide grin. “Or haven’t you decided whether you’re going to take the deal at Paramount yet, Lizzie?” Lara turned to me.

“Well, let’s just say it’s between Universal and Warner Brothers at this stage.” I shrugged. “Though if Paramount comes through with some great offices and a golf cart, then, who knows.”

“Guess you wouldn’t want to go to Paramount in case you ran into Luke Lloyd,” Amber said with all the ease of a pro tennis player serving an ace. “I hear he’s only dating the most beautiful women in town these days. It wouldn’t exactly help rebuild your shattered ego after that humiliating dumping, would it?”

“Oh, that was a long time ago.” I managed a smile, even though I felt as if I’d just received a body blow. “Before Jason.”

“Oh yeah, Jason Blum. Well I guess he has a few weeks left of anonymity before he hits the big time and realizes he’s saddled with a loser. But by then he’ll have ‘people’ to get rid of you, so it won’t matter. He won’t have to dump you to your face. But then I suppose you’re used to that, aren’t you?”

“Oh well, nice running into you, Amber. I hope whoever’s husband you’re fucking finds out really soon,” Lara said as we walked away, leaving Amber as speechless as I’d ever seen her.

“Do you really think she’s having an affair with a married man?” I asked Lara as we followed a waitress with a tray of cocktails onto the balcony.

“I
know
she is,” Lara replied. “She’s wearing expensive but unsexy clothes. A man never likes his mistress to look cheap or available so he’d have bought those for her. She looks ‘kept’ but off the market. She has very discreet but insanely expensive little diamonds in her ears and she’s lost her puppy fat so obviously spends all her weekend at the gym. Which means her married man probably has a family, too. Remember, I know these things. I was a mistress once.”

“That’s genius.” I laughed as we watched Amber tuck her hair primly behind her ear and look riveted by Nathalie’s conversation. “And she did look completely thrown when you mentioned the married man.”

“Thank God those days are gone,” Lara said. “So this party’s kind of bor-ing. Shall we make a break for Souplantation and get an ‘all you can eat’?” “Sounds great,” I said, and abandoned the idea of the cocktail I was

reaching for.

We were heading for the door, trying not to let our hostess see that we were making a break for the border, when Lara remembered she’d left her cardigan on the balcony.

“Wait, I’ll just be a minute,” she said and fought her way back through the Mojito-sipping millionairesses. I was standing in the doorway to the kitchen and fiddling with my purse so I wouldn’t be engaged in conversation with some woman about the merits of the birthing pools at Cedars Sinai, when I heard one of the caterers shout out, “Hey, ladies, someone’s cell’s going off in my face!” He was clearly having a stressful moment because he picked up the phone and held it aloft. But nobody came forward. A few of the women looked up from their Mojitos in an affronted fashion—how dare staff interrupt their inane ban-ter? But he persisted as the phone rang again. “Okay, it’s 555-723-5698. Who’s phone is it?” he called out. Clearly feeling a little premenstrual. “Oh, that’s my husband.” I saw Katherine Watson look slightly embarrassed as she waved her hand in the air and stepped forward to re—

claim her phone. “Sorry about that, guys.”

“No problem,” the caterer said as he handed over the offending item and spun around to deal with the more serious business of canapés.

“Oh, hang on a minute,” Katherine said as she looked at the phone. “It’s not actually my phone.” For a second she seemed puzzled. Then Amber appeared out of the bathroom.

“Oh, is that my phone? I must have left it on the counter.” She didn’t seem to notice that a curious hush had fallen over the party as everyone half-watched Katherine wrestle with some unidentified conundrum. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom. Was it ringing?”

“Yeah.” Katherine scowled and kept holding the phone, still staring at it as if she were expecting it to tell her something. “Amber?”

“Yes?” Amber now looked equally curious. In fact, the only person who looked as if she knew exactly what was going on was Lara, whose face had suddenly lit up with anticipation.

“Why was my husband calling you?”

“Your husband?”

“Michael. He just called on your phone.” Katherine stared hard at Amber, but she remained inscrutable.

“Maybe he was trying to get a hold of you?” Amber shrugged and made as if to return to her cocktail chatter. Katherine pulled her phone out of her purse.

“He didn’t call me,” she said, looking at her slick black cell phone as if she were computing the facts very quickly.

“Oh I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason.” Amber started to fluff her lines slightly and waved her hand around too much, as if trying to dust away invisible evidence.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Katherine looked at the phone and pressed the unfamiliar buttons. “Let’s call him and see what he wants.”

“Okay,” Amber said in a casual way that reeked of insincerity and panic. “I’ll call him back.” She put her hand out to take the phone from Katherine’s grasp, but Katherine held on tight.

“I’ll call,” Katherine said calmly, though standing as close as I was I noticed that her hand shook as she pressed the Call button and put the phone to her ear. The entire room had stopped what it was doing and was now blatantly engaged in the drama that was unfolding.

Though I’m certain that, as the last actor to have appeared on this particular stage, I was relieved, not only that I wasn’t the center of attention this time, but also that whatever sordid tale was unfurling be-fore us, Amber was looking very unlikely to come out of it smelling of roses. An embalmed silence enveloped the room, and from where I stood I could hear the ringing tone.

“Hi, sweetheart, you done yet?” A man’s voice was unwittingly broadcast through the receiver.

“Michael?”

“Amber?” The man’s voice could be heard even more clearly than be-fore now, as everyone held their collective breath.

“Actually, Michael, it’s Katherine,” Katherine informed her husband, then continued coolly. “Did you want Amber?”

“I... er...I.. .”

“I thought so,” Katherine said and snapped the phone shut. Then she handed it back to Amber.

“We were discussing your birthday present,” Amber said with all the conviction of an accomplished pathological liar. “It was going to be a surprise.”

“Oh, it
was,
” Katherine replied. And you had to admire her compo-sure. The only sign of agitation she displayed was brushing her hair off her face with a hint of the obsessive compulsive. Otherwise she didn’t miss a beat.

“How long have you been sleeping with my husband?” Katherine asked with no emotion. Amber didn’t flinch.

“I told you, we were planning your birthday present.”

“Where did you first meet?” Katherine persisted, and it was all the women in the room could do not to lean too far forward and fall off their proverbial seats.

Finally it appeared as if Amber had met her match, and if any of us had underestimated Katherine Watson and mistaken her sweetness and fairness for lack of mettle, we had our minds altered swiftly. The look in her eyes was one of ferocious determination, her will was like steel. And Amber, despite being Mussolini manqué, didn’t come close to being a worthy opponent of a girl from New Jersey who’d paid her own way through Harvard and survived years as the pretty protégée of one of Hollywood’s greatest agents and most legendary shits.

“We’ve been having an affair for a year,” Amber said, and actually raised her chin in a defiant manner. “And you can’t fire me for it.”

“I know. But I will find something to fire you for.” She smiled.

“It wouldn’t be very good publicity for The Agency when I sue,” Am-ber said, still with the same shameless sneer on her face.

“No, but it would be so much fun.” Katherine smiled. Then she turned to Nathalie. “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to leave now. I have to go home and scream at my husband. Great party.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” Nathalie said and gave Katherine a kiss on the cheek. It was definitely an impressive display of coolness under fire, but then I suppose that was the least one would expect from women who regularly underwent nostril-hair waxing.

As Katherine walked by Amber, she hesitated a moment, and then reached out both hands and tore the diamonds out of her ears. “Oh, and I’m sure you’ll understand if I have these back, but they’re my children’s

college education. And before you think of suing for them back—they were bought with my money because my lazy bastard husband hasn’t done a day’s work in five years.” And with that Katherine made her way to the door without looking back. Amber just stood there with bleeding ears and a faraway expression on her face.

“So what do you think’s going to happen to her now?” I asked Lara as we sat in the lounge at the Chateau and celebrated the preposterously satisfying exposure of my nemesis with a round of cocktails. We’d decided to change venue from Souplantation when it became apparent that tomato-and-rice soup with a side salad was never going to cut it as a victory supper.

“Amber?” Lara asked. I nodded.

“Well I guess they’ll find out about the blackmail eventually. Then she’ll get arrested, get a trial date, and find herself a gazillionaire to pay her legal fees, then dump him when she’s acquitted. She’ll be the head of an agency or studio within three years.”

“Seriously?” I said as our cocktails arrived looking good enough to dive into after a night of deferred alcohol. “I thought she’d at least get deported.”

“You’re so naïve sometimes, Lizzie.” Lara shook her head and we raised our glasses. “Here’s to Mr. Katherine Watson.” We clinked and sipped. “No, sadly, she’ll probably just find her career’s accelerated because she’ll become a minor celebrity for wearing great clothes to her trial. Then she’ll be invited to even more parties than you and every company in town will want to hire her because she’s ruthless and fa-mous and famous for being ruthless.”

“Fuck, this place is twisted.” I shook my head.

“I know, but her downfall’s going to be so much fun to watch.” Lara grinned. “But you know you’ll never get rid of Amber. She’ll be snapping at your heels for the rest of your life in Hollywood.”

“Well, best just enjoy it while I can, then, and make sure that when I give evidence at her trial it makes her sound as boring as possible.”

“Exactly,” Lara said, as we finally tasted our first Mojito of the night, though it was saving nobody’s lives but our own.

Twenty

In Hollywood, brides keep the

bouquets and throw away the groom.

—Groucho Marx

This was supposed to be one of the most exciting days of my life. I was invited to the hottest ticket in town and yet I could barely muster up enough enthusiasm to get in the shower. I had always thought that the Oscars were a big deal or that Elton John’s birthday party was the pin-nacle of invites, but I was wrong. Nothing seemed to compare to the amount of hype surrounding the wedding of Emerald Everhart to Jizzy James. The difference was that both those parties were events that your above average punter could get into with the right connections but this wedding was for a select group of three hundred only. And no amount of begging, borrowing, or stealing was going to get you an invite at the last minute. And I knew right from the horse’s mouth that it was all be-ing done as a publicity stunt, so I was damn certain the guest list wouldn’t be overloaded with Jizzy’s great aunts from Texas or Em’s hairdressing cousins from Missouri.

A wedding invitation had arrived in the mail a month ago and I’d kept it for my scrapbook. Not because it was a celebrity wedding, but because it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. The paper weighed as much as a small child and was the most magical shade of green that made you dream of fairies and secret gardens. The names of the bride and groom were spelled out in tiny pressed flowers and they were even scented with something that smelled like a combination of moss and night-blooming jasmine. But no matter how many times I looked at it, I couldn’t find the location of the wedding. I searched the

eighteen envelopes within the envelope for a missing bit, but nothing was there. Poor Emerald. She’d gone to all this effort and obviously hadn’t caught the printer’s mistake.

I wandered over to the main house to discuss the disaster with Lara, and she just laughed at me. Apparently leaving the location blank was the only way to show you mattered in the world. It was intentional in or-der to throw off the paparazzi. Scott had told Lara that Emerald and Jizzy’s publicists were planning four different mock weddings for the same day in different locations around the globe. They were casting a group of Emerald look-alikes and using mannequins as guests. I was impressed with Emerald’s efforts at privacy until Lara explained that they’d sold the story to
Vanity Fair
and were getting the costs of their multimillion-dollar wedding covered, but the deal was contingent upon no pictures sneaking out in the press.

When a courier in an armed vehicle arrived the day before the wedding, I had an absolutely terrifying moment thinking the police had come to arrest me. Lara and I had spent the last few days since I’d been fired sitting on the guesthouse floor going through all my bills, receipts, schedules, and notes looking for something that would prove that I hadn’t tried to blackmail anyone. But the result of all our efforts had the opposite outcome. The closer we studied it, the more guilty I appeared. Due to the award nomination, I had been spending like I’d just married Donald Trump. I was even moving into a bungalow in Venice next month that I could barely afford, and to make matters worse, I’d paid them first, last, and security in
cash
—my per diem, of course, but to avoid the taxman, the production had given it to me under the table. Lara and I were at a loss. She had sweetly offered to pay for a detective to follow Amber, and I was seriously thinking about taking her up on the offer. I would pay her back no matter how long it took, but I couldn’t think of any other way to clear my name. It occurred to me that if I ever saw Katherine Watson again, I could ask her if she wanted to go half-sies. I bet she was longing to see Amber go down more than I was. I hadn’t even told Jason yet, because he’d called from a press junket in New York and was so excited about everything that I didn’t want to freak him out. And to be honest, I was ashamed to even repeat the accusations.