Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
ACCORDING TO AN ANONYMOUS SOURCE, A CERTAIN B-LISTER IS A DISASTER TO WORK WITH. WE CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER HOW LONG BEFORE THE OFFERS RUN DRY…
GREER
This is not a good start…
And it just got worse.
Up until that point, I’d been the only person in the waiting area of Hullywod—Tripp’s agency.
There were about a dozen other lush chairs and couches in the expansive room.
Despite that, a familiar older leading man collapsed into the empty one right next to me.
From the corner of my eye, I could see him scanning me as he waited expectantly for me to fawn over him or to delight in his attention.
I didn’t feel the urge to do either.
I felt the urge to hit him with my heavy portfolio.
Him and Tripp freaking Carter.
Pretending to scan in the other direction, I shared a quick look with the receptionist who waited with a resigned expression I felt down to my soul.
Poor woman. I hope she’s paid well to deal with this shit.
I continued actively ignoring him.
He didn’t return the favor.
“So, darlin’, you a new Hullywod client?” the man asked me. I couldn’t remember his name, and I didn’t care enough to think about it. I did know that he’d done a recent stint on a popular western drama because I’d caught enough of his previous interviews to know his new accent was fake.
And a bad fake, at that.
“No,” I said simply as I checked the entrance, willing Tripp to hurry up. To my shock, it worked, and his tall frame filled the doorway.
I will use this power for good.
Mostly.
If he was anyone else in the world and not my boss, I might’ve thought about how good he looked. The sleeves of his dark gray Henley were pushed up to expose his tanned forearms, and his torn black jeans looked worn and soft. His whole vibe was effortlessly cool.
And that was before his gaze landed on me like I was the only person. Not just the room. In the whole universe.
But I was immune to his charisma and stupidly handsome face, so I didn’t notice.
Okay, fine, I noticed. I had eyes. But it was strictly observational, and not in a way that would let him run circles around me until I was just as useless as every other assistant he’d had.
The smile that began to form when he spotted me dropped at my glare.
Or maybe he had a rivalry with the man next to me because I was pretty sure his sudden scowl was aimed at him.
I didn’t have time for pissy fights about lost gigs or whatever.
I gathered my belongings and stood, closing the distance between my new boss and me.
If I was smart, I would’ve remembered that last part. That not only was he my boss, he was a new one. I would’ve let his rudeness go unless it became a habit.
I didn’t.
I did manage to keep my attitude in check—barely—as I pointed out, “You’re late.”
“Tony always books buffer time since he’s used to this happening,” Tripp said like it wasn’t a big deal.
“He might be, but I’m not. I’ve been here for over an hour.”
His gaze moved to the other man’s retreating back as he finally followed after the waiting receptionist. “Seems you had some company to keep you occupied.”
I choked back a snort. “Something like that.”
He returned his focus to me and had the good grace to look sheepish. “I’m sorry. My meeting ran long, and I lost track of time.”
Some of my irritation deflated. “I understand that things come up. You run behind. Whatever. But try to text me next time so I can do something other than sit around waiting.”
“Won’t happen again.”
I didn’t believe that, but I appreciated the sentiment.
Since we were already running behind, I thought he would move to the elevator, but he didn’t.
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he asked, “How was class today?”
“Good,” I drawled slowly, wondering if he was upset that my schedule hadn’t allowed me to attend the earlier mystery meeting.
But his expression wasn’t annoyed or pouting. It was open and curious. “What did you have?”
“For what?” I asked, totally lost.
Thankfully, he didn’t think I was a dumbass. His smile was amused as he clarified, “What classes did you have today?”
“Oh. Responsibility in Business Ownership. Why?”
He didn’t answer but asked, “Is that what you want to do? Own a business?”
My confusion at his questions quickly shifted to an uncomfortable amount of dread at the topic of my unknown future. I suppressed it and evaded his question by reminding, “Tony is waiting.”
“And he’ll keep waiting.” But when I just blinked up at him, he gestured toward an elevator with a muttered, “Fine.”
Contrary to my insistence we get to the meeting, nerves suddenly rocked through me. Doubt reminded me that I was woefully unqualified and entirely out of my element. Fear crept in as images of his agent demanding he fire me in a very public way flitted through my head.
That last part was unlikely if Alex had survived as long as he had, but still.
I thought I was doing a good job hiding my emotions, but I’d barely taken two steps before large hands gripped my upper arms.
It wasn’t the first time Tripp had touched me.
He’d held my waist on the roof top while I’d tried my best to ensure he didn’t stumble over the ledge.
Him touching my arms was nothing compared to that more intimate hold.
But something about the feel of his hands wrapped so firmly around me tightened my chest—and areas farther south—in a way I didn’t expect.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Before I could sort through the unexpected rush of heat, Tripp spun me to face him and quickly removed his hold. “There’s no reason to be freaked.”
Yeah, there is. My body just lit up like the Fourth of July from your hands on my arms, of all places.
But, of course, that wasn’t what he was talking about. “This is a check-in so you can meet Tony. No pressure. You’ll be great.”
My anxiety wanted to dismiss his words as empty platitudes from someone with low expectations of assistants, but I couldn’t. The genuine reassurance in his voice lit me up almost as much as his hands on me had.
Not taking my silence as an answer, he dipped his head to meet my gaze. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Getting annoyed.
Being a nervous little baby.
I am not nailing this first job thing.
Reaching out to give my arms one last comforting squeeze, he dropped his hold and led me to the elevator.
When I’d done my research on Hullywod—named after the rundown Hollywood Sign in the seventies—it was labeled as a boutique talent agency. I’d anticipated a small but well-run place.
I’d been wrong.
According to Tripp, Hullywod occupied all twenty stories of the tall building. If the theory that the higher the office, the more important the person was rang true, then his agent must’ve been one of the top dogs since his office was on the nineteenth floor.
Or should I say, his office was the nineteenth floor.
Because when the elevator doors slid open, it was into another waiting room lined with a handful of chairs. A desk was positioned opposite us in front of open double doors.
Tripp lifted his chin at the pretty woman at the desk but otherwise ignored her as he walked through the doors behind her.
The man I’d briefly seen at his party stood from behind a massive wooden desk. The sheer size of it—along with the plethora of framed photos of him with celebrities, politicians, and influencers—made me wonder if he was overcompensating for something.
And then I felt like a giant bitch for being judgy.
I need to let my hostility toward the famous go if I’m going to make this work.
I felt even guiltier when he approached with a wide grin he aimed at Tripp and me. “My favorite client. And you must be Greer. I’m Tony.”
I accepted his outstretched hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”
He moved his focus from me to Tripp. “She didn’t call me dude or bruh. Already an improvement.” He gestured to where two plush couches faced each other at the side of the room. “Sit. Would you like anything? Coffee, tea, water, whiskey?” He added that last one like it was a joke.
But also not really one.
Assuming he was only talking to Tripp, I remained silent.
But Tripp answered for me. “She’ll have a water with fruit in it.”
How does he know what I like?
Oh. Right.
Maddie.
Pushing away thoughts of my blabbermouth bestie, I contradicted my new boss. “I’m all set.”
“Nonsense.” Tony looked over his shoulder to where the pretty woman waited expectantly in the open doorway. “Fruit water, Suze.” He glanced back at Tripp. “You want anything?”
Tripp shook his head, making me the only one being a pain.
A pain with a fussy drink preference.
“I’m fine with plain water,” I tried, but it was too late.
Suze was gone with an efficiency I would need to learn.
Tony gestured again to the couch, and I sat at the very far corner to observe from a distance.
Or so I planned.
But Tripp sat close.
Too close.
Not actually. He was closer than he needed to be since there was a good chunk of free space on the other side of him, but it was his tall, muscular body that made him dominate the space.
Suze rushed back into the room with a lidded cup filled with ice water and citrus slices. She could’ve easily handed it to me, but Tripp took it and passed it over.
Weird.
I shot him a questioning look, but his focus was aimed across the way as Tony crossed one leg over the other so his ankle rested on his knee.
Unlike me, he wasn’t irritated at the late start. He didn’t even look surprised by it. His tone was filled with teasing humor when he asked, “Busy day?” His eyes darted to me with a look I didn’t understand. “Or we can talk about this a different time.”
Tripp didn’t share his caginess, and his tone sounded like he was reminding Tony of something he already knew.
“Today was the meeting with the director for Summer.” I thought he was talking about the season before he added, “The table read is next, and as long as there’s no script overhaul, we start filming in a month or two. ”