Chapter Seven
I still hadn’t unpacked my car at all, but I had my toiletries and was able to find the black shirt and black pants that I regularly wore to more casual red carpets and press junkets.
Surprisingly I enjoyed clothing. I liked colors and patterns and shapes that made me feel like someone’s eccentric art teacher.
But as Brody’s assistant, my job was to be so good at assisting that I was practically invisible.
If you were an assistant and someone noticed you, it usually meant you’d fucked up in a big way.
So black on black was a necessary wardrobe staple for industry events, and over time, I found that corner of my wardrobe felt a bit like armor.
Which was something I definitely needed to get through this interview today.
I walked out of Ruby’s bedroom, teasing up my curls a bit with my fingers.
“You look like you work as a hostess at a TGI Fridays,” she said.
“I guarantee you’ve never even been to a TGI Fridays,” I told her as I poured some dry food into a bowl for Marlon.
“Yes, but I once saw one on television and I’ve seen all I need to see.”
“Marlon should be fine while I’m gone, but if he needs to go out, I left his leash on the kitchen table. You just attach it to his little harness—”
“I remember how to walk a dog,” she said dryly as she scooped Marlon up in her arms. He was unfazed, happy even. And I had to say, an aging Pomeranian who preferred to be carried everywhere rather than to walk himself really did fit Ruby’s aesthetic.
“Okay, right,” I said. “Wish me good luck!”
She held up Marlon’s paw and they both waved. “Break a leg!”
* * *
“Salary is nonnegotiable,” Morgan said flatly. “Which is sort of a bummer, because I am pro friendly confrontation. I’m a Scorpio sun and a Leo moon,” she added as though that explained everything.
“Okay.” Considering this was my only potential job, I didn’t really have room to negotiate.
Morgan’s hair was perfectly wavy and impressively healthy.
It was hard to argue with people who had good hair.
She shrugged as she browsed her computer and based on the reflection of the framed photo of the original Starlight Palms behind her, it appeared she was currently toggling between bidding on a Garfield cookie jar on eBay and reading an article about a British girl who interviews celebrities in fried chicken restaurants. “You give up fast.”
“So it is negotiable?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Definitely not. Normally I would be able to offer you staff housing, but we’re totally full at the moment.”
That was a bummer, but I definitely hadn’t expected free or discounted housing, so I supposed that wasn’t really anything worth shedding a tear over. “So does this mean I’ll get a housing allowance in the meantime?”
She sputtered out a laugh, but kept her eyes on the screen. “So now you’re negotiating?”
“Is that okay?” I asked.
“My dad was in the car business. Everything is negotiable.”
“Except my salary?”
“I like you.” She nodded. “So you can start tomorrow.”
“That’s it?” I asked, relieved that she liked me. I’d never had a little sister, but I had been around a handful of actors around Morgan’s age and the need to be liked by her generation was daunting. “No background check or probationary period?”
“Yes on the background check and meh on the probationary period. This job requires you to essentially be a human complaint box, so if you can just last long enough for me to get your replacement lined up, I’ll be happy.
” She spun around and reached into the cabinet behind her.
“Here’s a four-year-old laptop and an iPad that can only be used when it’s charging.
I’ll see about getting you a replacement, but the last girl never returned her tech. ”
“Well, considering I accidentally left my personal laptop on my car before driving off earlier this week, this is an upgrade.”
Morgan grimaced a little. “Tragic.” Then she handed me a thick Starlight Palms–branded binder.
“These are the activities calendars for the last two years along with what we have on the books currently. You can change anything you want except Tuesday night book club with Dr. Buckley. It’s shockingly popular, which doesn’t make sense because he’s so boring and old.
Lastly . . . the residents can smell weakness. It’s really impressive, actually.”
I found myself sniffing, like I might smell it on myself, but all I got was a whiff of the partially melted deodorant I had liberally applied before walking over. Probably not liberally enough, though . . .
“I’ll need to get some documents together for you, but for now, sign this background check release.”
She slid a tablet across her desk and I used the stylus to sign without examining too closely for fear of looking uncool by being worried about silly things like legally binding documents.
I gave the paper back and then waited for her next instructions, but she had already turned back to her eBay auction.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” I asked.
“Unless you change your mind. Oh, and Vera, until we have any housing open up, you’ll have to find a place of your own.
Residents really aren’t allowed to have long-term guests and even though I definitely have oppositional defiance disorder, and love breaking rules—especially my own—this is one rule I am pretty strict on.
Otherwise, I’ll have a whole slew of residents with grandchildren leeching on couches.
Not that you’re a leech,” she added quickly. “As far as I can tell.”
Well, that sucked, but I needed to get off Ruby’s couch anyway. “It might take me a few weeks, but I definitely don’t want you bending the rules for me, and who knows? Maybe some employee housing will open up?”
She laughed and then coughed into her fist when she realized I didn’t get whatever the joke was. “Oh hey, before you go: What’s the deal with you and Dr. B?”
“We were friends in college . . . I guess.”
She nodded.
I stood up to leave but turned back to her and said, “It’s sort of a wild story, actually. I can’t believe he works here. It’s so random, but back in college, he was . . .”
But Morgan was already locked on to her screen and totally tuned out.
“See you tomorrow,” I said, and then headed back to Ruby’s.
As I walked through the maze of palm trees, step stones, and crosswalks, my phone chimed.
Brody:
Did I do something? Haven’t heard from you at all.
How could it take him nearly five days to come to the conclusion that just maybe I’d up and left because of something he had done?
My life would look so different if it took me days instead of seconds to consider that something could be my fault.
Ruby and Hollis were sipping gin and tonics on the couch/my bed when I got back. Marlon was curled into Hollis’s lap as she gave him the most delicate head massage and his eyes were little slits as he leaned into her touch. He didn’t even flinch when I walked in.
“Well, how’d it go?” Ruby asked.
“You are looking at an employed woman,” I told them.
Hollis hooted and Ruby lifted her glass before throwing back a sip.
“The good news is that there is staff housing,” I said.
Ruby slapped her thigh. “The good news? That sounds like the news!”
“Well, the bad news is that they’re full up, so I’ll start looking for a place.” With money I definitely didn’t have. “And maybe employee housing will open up soon.”
Ruby’s smile twitched.
“Still great news,” Hollis chimed in. “We’re going out for happy hour. My treat!”
I eyed them both, wondering how many gin and tonics deep they were. “I’m driving.”
“Oh no, no,” Ruby said. “We’ll take the minibus.”