“Yeah, so?”
“I guess the electrics of the home didn’t want to provide the extra juice.”
“They have their own generators.”
“Two of them blew.”
“Holy crap, one of those days,” he grimaced.
“Yep, one of those days. Looks like they’ll be getting underway fairly soon.”
“That means Anna has been sitting around twiddling her thumbs for three hours,” Zach muttered. “She’ll probably be a wreck again by now.”
“I feel bad for her having to do a passionate love scene with that guy. I know Jackson Wardlow is a total dirt bag.”
“You’re telling me,” Zach mumbled, then after a pause he added, “that almost sounds as if you’ve had a run-in with him.”
“Not exactly,” she said sitting down in front of his desk.
“Okay, Martha, what do you know?” he asked leaning forward.
“It’s something I saw,” she said slowly.
“Why are you being so cryptic?”
“Hang on. I need to get something.”
She hurried across his office and out to her desk, and when she returned she was carrying her phone. Closing the door she sat back down and began tapping the screen.
“You’ve got me totally intrigued,” he grinned.
“A couple of months ago I was visiting a friend in West Hollywood, and there’s that seedy stretch on Sunset Blvd. Hookers, strip clubs, you know the area?”
“It’s not one that I frequent, but sure, I know where you mean.”
“I was stopped at a light, and this is what I saw,” she said handing him her phone.
Taking it from her hand he stared at the tiny screen.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe what I’m looking at. What an idiot. I’m amazed no-one else got this.”
“It was very late,” she remarked, “past midnight, and he was only there for a few seconds before a cab pulled up. In that baseball cap and long fake hair no-one would have guessed it was him, but you know me and faces. If I hadn’t been at the light, and my headlights hadn’t hit him just right, I wouldn’t have seen him.”
“Wow. That is something.”
The photograph showed the usually dapper and meticulously groomed, Jackson Wardlow, dressed in a crumpled trench coat and a black baseball cap from which blond locks were spilling out and laying on his shoulders. Draped around his arm was a heavily made-up street prostitute in skin tight leopard-print spandex pants, a black leather tank-top that barely covered her extremely large breasts, and spiked high heels that Zach thought could be classified as lethal weapons.
“Scroll on down, that was the first picture. The second one will blow your mind even more, and the third one shows him handing her a wad of notes as he climbs into the cab.”
Moving on to the next photograph, Zach let out a low whistle. Jackson had his hand down the front of the girl’s top, and hers was on his crotch.
“How did you resist the temptation to sell these for a zillion dollars? You could retire on what these would bring.”
“I could retire right now,” she quipped, “and you might want to remember that.”
“Martha, you know you are irreplaceable,” he said quickly.
“I do know that, and I could never, ever leave you,” she smiled. “You’d be lost without me. As far as selling them, it did cross my mind but it’s not my style.”
“Can you trust me and print one of these out? I promise it will only be used for good, and only once.”
“Hah, with photo’s like that you only need to use them once. I’m happy if you can put the squeeze on Wardlow. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I know Anna Lee is a bit of a pain, but she’s just a kid. If you can use something to make sure he treats her right, you have my blessing,” she said getting to her feet and taking her phone back. “Just give me a couple of minutes,”
“Martha, you’ve just got yourself a very big Christmas Bonus,” he declared. “Not sure how I’ll justify it to Sam, but I’ll think of something.”
A little while later Zach reached the location where Anna Lee was shooting, and backed his car into a parking space a short distance from where the production vehicles and mobile dressing rooms were set up. The wagons took up most of the street, and the neighbors, some pleased, some irritated, were standing behind taped off areas watching the action, hoping to glimpse one of the stars. Jogging down the sidewalk, he introduced himself to the security guard who stepped up to block his path.
“I just need some I.D. Mr. Taylor,” the guard said formally.
“Sure, no problem,” Zach replied pulling out his wallet and business card.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Which is Jackson Wardlow’s dressing room?”
“The second one, with the green stripe.”
“Thanks.”
Not wanting Anna Lee to see him, Zach continued to scan his surroundings as he approached Jackson’s trailer. There was a beefy bodyguard standing by the door, and Zach showed him the same credentials he’d shown the security guard.
“Thank you, Sir. I think he’s taking a nap,” the bodyguard said.
“He needs to wake up,” Zach said firmly. “This can’t wait,” and before the hefty man could respond, Zach banged on the door.
“Who is it?” the famous deep voice demanded.
“Zach Taylor.”
“Oh, hang on.”
Still worried Anna Lee was going to see him, he banged again.
“I don’t have much time,” he called.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
The door opened, and the tall, rugged superstar stared down at him.
“Hey, Zach, what’s so urgent?” Jackson frowned.
“This won’t take long,” Zach replied walking past him into the luxurious dressing room. “You’ve got a big scene to shoot, a very hot scene, a sexy scene, with Anna Lee.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m looking forward to it,” Jackson grinned shutting his door.
“We’re just two guys having an informal chat, right?” Zach said dropping into a chair at the small table that sat against the windows.
“Yeah, sure, if you say so,” Jackson mumbled sitting opposite him.
“Anna Lee is a friend of mine. I need you to be cool, you know what I’m saying?”
“Hey, I’m a pro. If the script says grab a tit, I’m grabbin’ a tit, and shit, even if it doesn’t I might feel the need,” he chuckled. “I’m an actor, I get inspired, especially when I’m making out with a hot number like her.”
“I see,” Zach muttered, and you are just as gross and disgusting as I thought. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, or to change-”
“The hell you’re not,” Jackson shot back in a sudden and unexpected flash of temper. “Who the hell do you think you are, comin’ in here and givin’ me orders? I’m talkin’ to Sam about this.”
“Hmmm, I think not,” Zach said calmly.
“Oh? Is that so? I’ve had enough of this!”
“I did try to ask you politely,” Zach said reaching into his pocket. “Please remember that when you look at this.”
Placing the photograph on the table in front of him, Zach watched the man’s face contort as he stared down at the innocent looking piece of paper. It was the picture showing his hand down the front of the prostitute’s tank-top, while she was clutching his crotch.
“Holy fuckin’ shit! Where did you get this?”
“It doesn’t matter. With the click of a mouse it can be on the internet, or the front page of the tabloids first, then on the internet.”
Grabbing the picture he tore it into shreds and threw it into Zach’s face.
“What do you want? Money? What?” he growled.
“No, Jackson, nothing like that. I just want you to treat Anna Lee with respect and dignity. I don’t want you pawing at her, or sticking your tongue down her throat. Treat her properly, make her feel safe and respected,
and that photograph will never see the light of day. Not ever.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I told you, Anna Lee is a friend of mine. She’s not my girlfriend, I’m not dating her, but she’s a friend of mine,” Zach said standing up. “Make it happen. Act like a professional for once in your life.”
“Fuck!”
“I’m sure you have many women you can slobber over, but take Anna Lee off your list. Don’t hit on her, don’t be crass, no vulgar comments, nothing. Play the part of a gentleman. You think you can do that?”
“Get out of here.”
“I’ll be getting a full report, so…up to you.”
Rising from his chair, doing his best to appear calm and collected, Zach moved across to the door, and without looking back he opened it up and stepped outside.
“Anna Lee Pickford?” he said to the bodyguard.
“Three trailers down,” he replied.
Quickly reaching her trailer Zach knocked on the door, and when she answered he could see the three hour wait had not been easy.
“Zach! Oh, I’m so happy you’re here,” she exclaimed.
Stepping inside he gave her a hug, then holding her hand he led her to the couch and sat down.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess. I’ve been napping, thinking about Angelo Frattiano.”
“That should help,” he smiled. “I have some news, and I think you’re going to like it.”
“I am?”
“This is just through the grapevine, but I heard that our movie star asshole is going to be on his best behavior with you.”
“You’re kidding? Details, give me details,” she said her eyes lighting up.
“I don’t have any. It was just something I overheard at the office. When I found out shooting had been delayed I came over here to tell you in person, and after three hours I thought you could use some support.”
“I hope what you heard is right,” she hopefully.
“It was a very reliable source,” he assured her squeezing her hand. “I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t think it was for real. Take a deep breath, collect yourself, and as long as you’re Miss Professional I don’t think you’ll have a thing to worry about.”
“I will be, I absolutely will,” she promised.
“Good girl,’ he smiled kissing her on the forehead.
“Zach?”
“Yes, Anna?”
“I don’t mean this in a romantic way, but I love you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I love you too, and not in a romantic way,” he said giving her a hug. “Call me when you’re finished and tell me how it went. I have to get moving. I’m having a dinner with an agent about a script.”
“When aren’t you having dinner with an agent about a script?” she giggled.
“Sad but true,” he sighed, “now go break a leg.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The agent representing the writer of Moonbeams and Fairy Dust, Steven Levy, was leaving for New York the following day, and convinced the script had the makings of a hit movie Zach didn’t want to wait until the man’s return to meet with him.
Given the last minute invitation Zach was surprised the agent was able to join him, and over steaks and red wine Zach wasted no time launching into his ideas. Steven Levy listened, commented, they threw some numbers around, and by the end of the meal they had reached a general understanding.
“My client will be very happy,” Steven smiled, “but I’m crazy superstitious so I’m not going to say anything until I have deal memo in my hand.”
“I’ll have it to you by tomorrow afternoon. It will be in your email when you land in New York.”
“That would great,” Steven said rising from the table. “I hate to eat and run but I’ve still got some last minute things to do before leaving in the morning.”
“I get it,” Zach grinned. “Safe travels. We’ll talk soon.”
Zach watched him hurry out, then sitting back he sipped his coffee. Things had been hectic, and wanting to catch his breath he ordered some brandy. As his mind wandered back through the events of the day, he found himself wondering why Sam had been in such a hurry for him to meet with Kylie Hartman. Squeezing her into his schedule with so little notice was unusual.
I guess he wants to keep her father happy. I can’t blame him. Will and Testament will be an important picture for Titan, and chasing a director like Justin Hartman isn’t easy. Everyone wants him.
The restaurant was in the heart of Pacific Palisades, an upscale community above Pacific Coast Highway just north of Santa Monica, and after finishing his drink, finally feeling relaxed, Zach paid his check and stepped out into the cool night air.
It was late, the streets were empty and quiet, and walking towards his car he hit the remote. The sleek, expensive automobile beeped, the tail lights flashed, and it reminded him of the incident with Kylie’s car alarm. He started chuckling at the memory. She’d been so flustered.
I don’t think you were angry. You would have made one of your smart ass remarks and driven away. No, I think you were rattled because I hit a nerve. It’s going to be very hard not to tease you tomorrow, but I won’t. I’ll take my own advice and be professional.
Climbing into his car he retrieved his phone, and checking his messages he was delighted to see a text from Anna Lee.
The scene totally changed and Jackson was amazing. He suggested that it be more romantic and seductive rather than all hot and heavy so we tried it that way and James went nuts. Said it was a stroke of genius. Everyone was stoked. I hope you can come to dailies tomorrow. I think you’ll be blown away. Call me. Love you.
James Worthy was the director. He was from Australia and had an artistic, almost film noir style. Thinking about the script Zach could understand how a softer, more subtle interaction between the lead characters in that particular scene would create a deeper, more intense feel.
Pushing the button that would start the car, the headlights flicked on casting their bright light into the darkness. He was about to pull out and head home when he saw a group of people leaving a restaurant just ahead of him. It was a French eatery, and he had almost suggested it to Steven Levy, but thought it too intimate and dimly lit for a business dinner. As he idly watched the merry group he realized the tall man surrounded by a bevy of women was Justin Hartman, and Kylie, dressed in a scarlet dress, was hanging off his arm.
“Talk about a small world,” Zach muttered.
He didn’t recognize any of the other women, but he spotted Angelo Frattiano stepping out of the restaurant to join them. Moments later a limo appeared from around the corner and Kylie began hugging her father.
Zach could see him trying to disengage his daughter’s arms. They were locked around his neck and she was determined to hang on. Angelo stepped up, took her by the elbow and pulled her off, then began to lead her to the limo, but she was staggering so badly he had to pick her up and carry her. He was almost to the car when a sudden flurry of flashbulbs began popping around them. With Kylie in his arms there was nothing he could do to avoid the paparazzi as he bundled her into the car.
Zach looked back at her father. He had managed to corral the other women around him and get them back inside the restaurant. Zach guessed he’d probably get them out through a back entrance.
Damn photographers, but why did she have to get so drunk, and why would her father stand for it? It’s one thing to celebrate, but to allow her to get so plastered? Talk about being indulged. No wonder she’s such a brat. Be interesting to see what condition she’s in tomorrow, assuming she shows up.
Still surprised by what he’d seen, he dropped his car into gear and headed home.
It was a short drive from Pacific Palisades to Kylie’s home in Venice, but Angelo’s limousine driver took a winding, circuitous route until he was confident there was no-one following them. Only then did he pull up outside Kylie’s complex
In the back seat she was half-asleep, slumped ag
ainst Angelo’s shoulder, and shaking her awake Angelo stared down at her bleary-eyes.
“What time is it,” she mumbled.
“Time to put you to bed,” he replied.
The driver was already at the car door waiting to hold it open, and Angelo lowered the window.
“Do you see anyone around?” he asked.
“No, Sir, I believe I either lost them, or they were satisfied with the photos they snapped.”
“Thanks, what’s your name?”
“Stephen, Sir.”
“Thanks, Stephen. Okay, Kylie, let’s get you inside.”
The driver opened the door, and Angelo managed to get Kylie out of the back seat and on to the pavement, then holding her around her waist he helped her up the steps to the front door.
“Where are your keys?”
“In here, of course,” she replied waving her Chanel evening bag.
Taking her bag he found the keys, but it wasn’t easy keeping her upright as he did. They made it across the lobby to the elevator, then down the hall to her door, but halfway there she started talking in an obnoxiously loud voice.
Finally inside her condo he swept her up, carried her to her bed and laid her down. As he stood back she groaned and began babbling about Titan pictures.
“This is not working for me,” he muttered. “Too many things, Kylie. I’m sorry, but we’re done.”
Wandering into her large walk-in closet he found an empty tote bag and began packing up the few things he’d left there. It didn’t take him long, but when he returned he found her passed out. Pulling off her shoes, he rolled her on to her side and covered her with a blanket, then settled on the edge of the bed.
“Sorry, Kylie,” he repeated moving the hair off her face, “you’re impossible, and after your threats I can’t keep trying to make this work. I simply can’t trust you. I hope you find a man who can make you feel happy and secure. I certainly couldn’t.”
He checked the living room and kitchen, making sure he hadn’t left anything behind, then headed out, choosing to trot down the stairwell rather than take the elevator. Hurrying through the lobby he made his way quickly to the waiting limo, and dropping into the back seat he felt a wave of relief as he let out a heavy sigh.
Disciplining the Director's Daughter (Hollywood After Dark Book 1) Page 4
