Darcy in Hollywood

by Victoria Kincaid

  His reaction only added fuel to the fire. “He only mocked my intelligence and my appearance. I can’t imagine why I’d think it was personal.”

  He gave a little chuckle. “You know how these movie stars are. They think a different set of rules applies to them.”

  Because they do. “Yes, I understand that,” Elizabeth said from behind gritted teeth.

  “He’s powerful in Hollywood, and his family is even more powerful. Like it or not, we need to keep him happy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Dad, do you see me removing his kneecaps with a rusty spoon? No? That’s me keeping him happy.”

  Her father grinned. “Good call.”

  He was getting way too much pleasure at her expense. “Will you transfer me somewhere else, or should I quit?” She could find another way to earn money.

  The smile slid off her father’s face. “Over something like this? Lizzy—”

  She wasn’t interested in a guilt trip or a lecture. She was an adult, and she was also her father’s most competent PA. He needed her. “Bottom line, Dad.”

  He sighed. “All right, fine. Roberta needs another PA, so she can have you. I’ll assign Kurt to Darcy.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth stalked away; she needed to talk with Jane.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, a new, fresh-faced guy appeared in the makeup room. “Hi, I’m Kurt, your new personal assistant.” His voice radiated so much enthusiasm that it almost hurt Darcy’s ears.

  Darcy’s head whipped around, creating a smear of highlighting on his check. “Sit still!” the drill sergeant complained.

  “What happened to Elizabeth?” he demanded. “Is she sick?” She had left early the day before. Maybe it was something serious.

  Kurt shrugged. “She’s been reassigned, I think to the director.” In chinos, a button-down shirt, and a goddamned bowtie, he was seriously overdressed to be a PA.

  Darcy’s stomach plummeted into the basement. Perez already had an assistant. Did she need two? “Why?”

  Kurt shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe she wanted to learn directing?”

  Was Elizabeth upset about Darcy’s words the day before? Throwing cold water on her ardor had been his intention, so he should be relieved. But relief didn’t materialize. He hadn’t expected her to go this far. Maybe he’d hit her harder than he’d intended.

  Well, that was inconvenient. She was a good personal assistant, and he didn’t want to break in someone new. He was simply experiencing a mild sense of frustration. That was all.

  “Stop scowling!” Marge barked.

  “I’m not—”

  Marge twirled his chair to face the mirror; deep scowl lines were etched on his forehead and around his mouth. “Stop it!” she commanded. He did his best to arrange his face into a neutral expression while she finished contouring.

  Had Elizabeth somehow managed to turn off her crush like a light switch? Shaken off her infatuation just like that? Was that even possible? Surely not.

  Obviously when she’d heard Darcy’s remarks Elizabeth had realized that he couldn’t be hers, but her feelings were too intense. She must have determined to put some distance between them as a way of sparing her tender heart.

  It was just a shame her reaction was so…drastic. Her infatuation had been unfortunate, but it had also been rather endearing. He hadn’t meant this…

  At least she would still be on the set. He would see her; they would chat. He was actually looking forward to it. Of course, he couldn’t apologize, but maybe he could make it up to her somehow.

  Kurt interrupted his reverie. “Sir, what would you like me to do?”

  The “sir” sounded rather foreign to Darcy’s ears. “Er…yeah. Can you give me today’s shooting schedule and then ask wardrobe when they need me?”

  “Sure!” Kurt grinned agreeably but didn’t move. After a moment he asked, “Uh, what’s a shooting schedule, and where is wardrobe?”

  Darcy sighed. “Just go get me a cup of coffee.”

  ***

  Elizabeth didn’t miss being Will’s personal assistant. Not one bit. Okay, he wasn’t painful to gaze upon, and she missed seeing those sky-blue eyes in the morning, but it wasn’t like she needed it.

  She had more interesting responsibilities now. Roberta had asked her to develop a charity partnership. Her father’s company had a policy of working with a different charitable organization that coincided with each film’s theme. For The Zombies Ate My Homework, they had worked with afterschool educational organizations, and for Captain Succotash, they had given to charities that benefitted migrant lima bean and corn pickers.

  A bit frazzled, Roberta had admitted she didn’t have any ideas for charities relating to In the Shadows, but apparently the screenwriter did. So Elizabeth set up a meeting with the guy. He was a first-time screenwriter and rather young; his big break had come when Tom Bennet picked his script out of the slush pile. Elizabeth hadn’t met him before, but Jane had talked to him about the script once over coffee, gushing afterward about how nice and smart Ricky was.

  She met him in the studio canteen mid-afternoon when it was all but deserted. On the short side, Ricky McWilliams had sandy brown hair, soulful eyes, and a personable manner. Elizabeth regarded him over her turkey sandwich. “So, what made you want to write this screenplay?”

  His eyes didn’t waver from hers. “It’s actually based on personal experience.”

  “Really? What part?” Or was that too personal a question given the content of the screenplay?

  Ricky stared at his coffee cup. “I was homeless for nearly four years, although I was in a shelter for two of them.”

  “And now you’re a Hollywood screenwriter.”

  He smiled. “I guess I am.”

  There was a long silence. Elizabeth’s brain bubbled with questions, most of which she deemed too intrusive. After all, Ricky’s gender identity was his own business.

  She was drawing breath for a question about charities when he cleared his throat. “The scene in the beginning where Jordan’s parents kick her out…that was from my life, too.”

  That scene had nearly brought Elizabeth to tears when she first read the screenplay. That kind of thing shouldn’t happen to anyone, particularly the sweet guy sitting across from her. “Your parents kicked you out when you were sixteen?”

  “Fifteen, actually. They, um, didn’t like the idea that their daughter turned out to be a son.”

  That answered another of Elizabeth’s questions. “That…that sucks.”

  Ricky laughed, a musical sound. “Yeah, it did. I boarded a bus to L.A. with a vague idea about getting some kind of job in the movies, but nobody would hire me for anything. I was fifteen and didn’t know the first thing about obtaining a fake ID.”

  Elizabeth’s fingers clenched around her fork. “So that part of the movie is real.”

  “Yeah, I also got beaten up and ended up in the ER, but I didn’t meet any sympathetic doctors, unfortunately. The real story is that I finally found a shelter specifically for LGBTQ kids, and they helped me get my GED and a job with health insurance so I could get the necessary meds. But that wouldn’t make a particularly interesting or dramatic movie.”

  “Not unless you threw in a murder or an alien invasion.”

  Ricky laughed again. “Maybe you should be the screenwriter.”

  Elizabeth made a warding off gesture. “No way. I want less Hollywood in my life, not more.” Ricky regarded her quizzically, but she barreled on. This meeting wasn’t about her life story. “I hear you have an idea for a charity that would fit the movie’s theme.”

  “Yeah. I’d like to find a way to benefit the shelter that took me in: True Colors.”

  “I like that idea. You know, our contribution doesn’t have to be just monetary. In the past we’ve had the actors visit schools or wildlife sanctuaries or had students visit the set.”

  Ricky leaned forward in his seat, watching her intently. “You think someone from the cast
would talk to the kids at the shelter?”

  Various possibilities popped into Elizabeth’s mind. “I know Jane would, and I’m betting other actors would volunteer. We might even be able to set up a mentoring program, like a big brother/little brother kind of thing.”

  Ricky’s eyes were shining. “I would have loved that when I was at the shelter. God, that’s the kind of thing that could change a kid’s life.”

  Elizabeth glowed with warmth. This project could make a real difference, unlike collecting coffee for overpaid, self-centered movie stars. “Can you contact the director of the shelter and see if they like the idea?”

  “Definitely.” Ricky pushed his chair from the table and started to rise.

  “The kids at the shelter would probably be thrilled to meet you, too.”

  He froze. “I’m just the screenwriter, and it’s just a little indie film.”

  “You’re a Hollywood screenwriter. And it’s a little indie film directed by Roberta Perez and starring William Darcy and Caroline Bingley. That’s a big freaking deal.”

  “I guess.” He shrugged, staring at the table.

  “You know, you’re going to have to get over the modesty thing if you want to make it in Hollywood.”

  Ricky laughed but nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Actually, you’re probably the most important person for the kids at the shelter to hear from. You’ve been where they are—and look what you’ve accomplished.”

  He pondered this for a minute. “Are you saying I can be a role model?”

  “I’m saying you are a role model, whether you admit it or not.” Needing to hurry off to another meeting, Elizabeth pushed her chair back and stood.

  Ricky shook her hand. “Okay, you’re scaring me a little, but I’ll think about it. And I’ll call you once I talk to the shelter’s director.”

  Elizabeth left the canteen feeling lighter than she had all week. At least one part of her job would be fun.

  ***

  Upon returning to Building 4, Elizabeth hurried to her father’s office to let him know about the plans. When she opened the door, he was throwing his phone onto the desk in frustration. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  Tom Bennet swiped his hand through the thinning hair on his forehead. “Brody Smith dropped out.”

  “Damn.” Brody had been hired for a small but pivotal role in two scenes that were due to shoot in a few days.

  “Where are we going to find someone with the right look on such short notice?”

  Elizabeth thought about who would be right for the character. “I might know someone.”

  “Can he get here tomorrow to read some lines for Roberta? The casting agency is sending over their candidates in the morning.”

  She shrugged. “I can ask him.”

  After explaining the charity partnership idea, Elizabeth darted out of her father’s office and pulled out her phone. She had exchanged a couple of text messages with George, the friendly EMT, but hadn’t spoken with him since he’d deposited her at the hospital.

  Getting George into the movie would have a certain irony given how badly the Darcys had treated him. Obviously he’d been kicked around by life and deserved a break. She opened her phone and texted his number.

  Elizabeth: The movie has a part to fill ASAP. You’d be just right. Can you come for an audition tomorrow?

  George texted right back: Awesome! Yeah, I can be there, no problem.

  Elizabeth: You don’t have a shift? If so, we can probably work around it.

  It took a few minutes before he replied: No, I don’t have that job anymore.

  Elizabeth: Oh no! What happened?

  George: Stupid misunderstanding with my boss. I got blamed for something not my fault.

  Elizabeth: That sucks! I’m so sorry.

  George: Yeah, well, I was sick of that job anyway. But I’m psyched about the audition! I knew you’d come through for me. You’re like my guardian angel.

  Elizabeth was glad he couldn’t see her blush. She responded: You don’t have the part yet.

  George: Yeah, but I have a good feeling about it. I know you’ll bring me good luck. What time should I be there tomorrow?

  Elizabeth: 10 a.m.?

  George: See you then! Thanks for thinking of me.

  Elizabeth signed off with a smiley face emoji, reflecting that it was nice to be appreciated.

  ***

  The next day Darcy was leaving the makeup room when he turned a corner and received an unpleasant surprise.

  Wickham, complete with a self-satisfied smirk.

  Darcy stared, trying to comprehend why one of his least favorite people in the world was in the building. And why was Elizabeth standing beside him?

  “Darcy.” Wickham nodded as though they were casual acquaintances.

  Screw that. Darcy wasn’t going to pretend politeness. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m auditioning for Roland.”

  Darcy closed his eyes briefly. Could his luck be any worse? His character had two scenes with Roland. Pivotal scenes, and very emotional. A deep loathing for the man playing the part would not make those scenes easier; it could ruin them. Darcy knew the original actor was unavailable, but he hadn’t imagined—

  “You’re not an actor,” he spat, his stomach churning. This movie was Darcy’s opportunity for redemption. His chance to revive his career. Please don’t let Wickham ruin this the way he has ruined so many other things.

  The other man faked a wounded expression. “You don’t have to be so cruel. Just because I don’t have well-connected parents—”

  “As far as I know you never even played a tree in an elementary school pageant. How did you worm your way in here?” It was no coincidence that Wickham had shown up on this particular set.

  Elizabeth was frowning; no doubt she didn’t like to see Darcy so upset. “George was one of the EMTs who treated me after my fall,” she explained. “He said he was looking for acting gigs. So when we needed someone for Roland, I thought George would be perfect.” The man could charm anyone onto Team Wickham, even someone as infatuated as Elizabeth. For some reason that made Darcy’s blood boil more than anything.

  Wickham regarded Darcy with an innocent expression. “See? Perfect.”

  Darcy’s hands clenched into impotent fists. He fixed his gaze on Elizabeth. “I doubt he has any training as an actor—or an EMT for that matter. I wouldn’t trust the man to shine my shoes.”

  Elizabeth sucked in a breath, but Wickham just laughed. “Enough with the compliments! I’m blushing.” Damn it, that made her chuckle.

  “George has also offered to help out with the True Colors shelter project,” Elizabeth said with a meaningful glance at Darcy.

  Ugh. Elizabeth had described the project before the start of filming that morning. Darcy didn’t have anything against homeless LGBTQ kids; he was sure their lives were very hard. But people who were gung-ho about charitable endeavors tended to be judgmental or pie-in-the-sky optimists. No doubt that described Ricky, the screenwriter whom Darcy had yet to meet. Elizabeth was enthusiastic about the project because she was young and didn’t know how much crap life could pile on your head.

  “How very generous.” Darcy regarded Wickham with murder in his eyes.

  Wickham smirked. “I’ve been through some rough patches in my life, and I want to give back as much as I can.”

  Darcy was a little worried his breakfast might make a repeat visit. He wasn’t sure which was more nauseating: the man’s total lack of sincerity or the havoc he could wreak on innocent teens. God knew what lies he had told Elizabeth.

  “Are you helping out with the shelter?” Wickham’s tone suggested he already knew the answer.

  “No,” Darcy answered. “I…unfortunately, my schedule will not allow it.” Being roped into charity events always made him feel like a fraud. “Is Tom in his office?” he asked Elizabeth.

  “I think so,” she said slowly, “but you don’t have casting approval.” Wic
kham really was screwing with her head.

  “I know that,” he said shortly. Darcy hated when stars threw around their weight to interfere with casting but picturing those scenes with Wickham left him distinctly queasy. Yes, he didn’t have casting approval, but he did have leverage. He was the film’s biggest star. If he insisted, Bennet wouldn’t hire the guy.

  Elizabeth’s body was rigid as she stared at Darcy, and he found himself not wanting to do anything that would lower her opinion of him. He had already insulted her appearance and intelligence; he just didn’t have the heart to further disillusion her. Maybe I rather like that she has a crush on me…no that’s silly.

  However, if Darcy had to spend one more second with Wickham’s smug smile, he might change his mind. “If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded to Elizabeth and stalked away, hearing laughter float on the air behind him.

  Before he was completely out of earshot, he heard Perez call Wickham into her office. Now Darcy could warn Elizabeth. He doubled back down the corridor, where he found her reviewing papers on a clipboard. She looked up when he cleared his throat.

  “I won’t discuss Wickham with Tom, but please don’t take everything he says at face value. He’s not a trustworthy man,” Darcy said.

  Elizabeth directed her eyes back to the clipboard. “Do you really believe he’s that bad? I thought it was nice to have someone like George mentor the teens since he has been homeless himself.”

  Darcy laughed. “Homeless?”

  She drew herself up straight. “I think he’d be an asset to the project. The PR people would love having someone so personable and with first-hand experience to do publicity.”

  “George Wickham has never been homeless to my knowledge.”

  “It’s possible you don’t know everything about him.” She made a note on the clipboard with unnecessary force. He knew she was exaggerating her annoyance to conceal her attraction to him, but damn, she was doing a good job.

  Darcy’s hands curled into fists. If only he could tell her the whole story! But there was too much at stake. “I certainly know him better than you do, and I know he is not to be trusted.”