L.A. Fire

by Sarah Bailey

  L.A. Fire

  by Sarah Bailey

  Copyright 2013ã, by Sarah Bailey

  Cover photo Copyright ã, by Shutterstock

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 1

  “You’re not seriously wearing that to work,” my roommate Angela said, peering over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirror. Our eyes locked, and she raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me.

  “Don’t mess,” I said. “The outfit’s good. Sleek. Conservative. Perfect for first impressions.” She critically raked my body with her eyes, taking in my fitted black dress, matching pumps, and silver, short sleeved jacket. Finally she shook her head.

  “Uh uh,” she said. “Perfect maybe for a Goth bar in Manhattan. But this is L.A. The black has got to go. It’s too depressing.”

  I let out a deep, exasperated sigh and started tapping my foot on the hardwood floor of my bedroom. “Fine,” I said, my voice skeptical.“Show me what you’ve got in mind. But remember that I’m going to be working as an assistant at a talent agency, not bartending on the Sunset Strip.”

  Angela smirked at me and put her hands on her hips. I couldn’t help noticing her very long, exquisitely manicured red nails. “Are you poking fun at my job?” she asked sternly, but the playful glint in her eye gave away her amusement.

  I flashed her a wide smile and said “No darlin’. I seriously appreciate your job. I mean, who else do I have to get me into one of the swankest clubs in town? It’s just, well, your closet is full of loud prints and slinky clothes. Not exactly professional, you know?”

  Angela cocked her head at an angle, giving me a questioning look. “So now I’m a one trick pony? Please. I know fashion. For any occasion. Give me a sec. I’ve got just the thing for you.”

  She disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with an amber sheath dress, a cream Prada scarf and beige suede Jimmy Choo peep-toe stilettos. I had about five minutes to get out the door to my new job, so I ripped off my dress and pulled on the amber number.

  “Check you out!” she said, nodding in approval. “That’s unbelievably hot. And professional. Now put on the pumps.” I did. She made a motion with her finger for me to do a twirl. “You pass inspection,” she said, looking satisfied. “Classic and smokin’ hot.”

  “Thanks babe,” I said, pulling her into a quick hug and then grabbing my purse.

  Have a wicked first day,” she yelled as I rushed down the hall to the front door. “I’ll see you tonight at the bar to toast to your fabulous new job!”

  “Sure thing!” I yelled back, grabbing my steaming coffee mug from the kitchen, and then bolting out the door.

  ***

  When I got to my car in the basement of the condo we were renting, I noticed that I had only fifteen minutes to get to work. I jumped into my blue Mini Cooper, a present from my parents for my twenty-third birthday, started the engine, and raced out of the parking lot, my tires squealing.

  This was it. The first day of my career. I’d landed my dream job. In my dream city. I’d been in LA for four years already, studying communications at UCLA. My parents wanted me to move back to Manhattan after graduation, saying they could help me find an internship at a respectable literary agency. But that’s not what I wanted to do. L.A. was the place for me.

  Gliding along the streets of West L.A., my windows down, I was reminded of everything I loved about the place. The warm, sensuous breeze in my hair, the endless royal palm trees lining the main streets, their leaves lit up by the scorching sun, the honey and mint smell of eucalyptus, so rich and seductive, swirling in the air. Even from several blocks away, I could also taste the brine of the ocean in the air with each breath I took.

  And then there was the crazy, vibrant mix and clash of cultures and lifestyles. And the glamour. And the whole place brimming with creative and talented people, some just waiting to be discovered. And that’s what I wanted to do. Discover talent. I already knew I was good at it. While in school, I’d gained a spot on a screenwriting competition judge’s panel because one of my profs said I had great instincts. I’d handpicked three student screenplays out of several hundred that I thought had great promise, and all three authors of those screenplays had gone on to sign Hollywood deals. None of the projects had made it to the big screen. They were all still in development. But still. My skills had gotten noticed. My new boss, Paul, was also impressed by that feat, which is probably the main thing that made him pick me out of hundreds of applicants for the job. And I really didn’t want to disappoint. Which is why I had to be on time.

  When I finally pulled into the parking lot of Cooper McGregor, I noticed I only had two minutes to spare. And there was a line up to get in. Damn it. I started tapping my hands on the wheel in frustration, all the while staring up at the imposing glass and steel building where I’d be working. Then I noticed parking for the day was $20, and I knew I only had $25 dollars in my purse. Great. I’d be late today, and I’d have to skip lunch. Fabulous start. I finally made it into the lot, and pulled my car into the first empty space. Grabbing my coffee, I raced toward the building, my heart slamming against my ribs, and the butterflies in my stomach doing a cirque du soleil trapeze act.

  ***

  I’d been so freaked out about being late for work, I’d forgotten to take a final appraising look at my own reflection. Luckily there was a mirror in the elevator, and I was the only one in it. Angela was right. The amber sheath dress was perfect. It made my 5‘4 frame look longer, and accentuated my curves in a way that wasn’t obscene or unprofessional. Right as I reached the eleventh floor, I quickly raked my fingers through my curly brown hair, wiped off some excess lip gloss, and then marched out of the elevator, ready to face the world.

  As I pushed through the glass doors to the office of Cooper McGregor, the receptionist flashed me a huge smile. “How can I help you?” she asked. She was new. Or at least this was the first time I’d seen her. I couldn’t help notice that with her sleek black hair, cherry colored lips, and dramatically lined almond eyes, she was a real stunner. She also had exquisite taste in clothes. She was dressed in a Kirna Zabete shift dress with billowing flower-patterned sleeves.

  “I’m Sarah Stevens. Today’s my first day working for Paul Cooper,” I said, trying to sound smooth and confiden
t, but the shake to my voice betrayed my nerves. She gave me another winning smile and then motioned towards a corner with a long brown leather couch.

  “Please have a seat. I’ll let Mr. Cooper know you’re here.”

  As I sunk into the plush couch, I took in my surroundings. The décor had the same impact on me as it did the first time I waited in this very spot for my interview. It was overwhelmingly elegant. The floors were made of Italian marble, the ceilings were high, and the walls were painted a rich beige. I could tell the leather armchairs across from me were antiques, as were the Chinese flower jars. Taking small sips of my coffee, which was as vital to me in the morning as breathing, I relaxed back into the couch, and took some deep breaths to help calm my nerves.

  I was just settling in when I heard approaching footsteps. I looked up, my eyes taking in powerful strides, and quickly travelling from an expensive purple tie up to the chiseled face of an absolute god. Our eyes met. His were a clear blue; breathtaking, and fierce. He held my gaze, and wouldn’t let go. I was taking a sip of coffee, and my lip started trembling, the coffee spilling down the front of my dress. I muttered ‘shit’ under my breath, and started rummaging in my purse for something to wipe myself off with. I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Black leather oxfords approached me, and came to a stop directly in front of me. I looked up, and when our eyes met again, my heart started slamming in my chest. Those eyes were magnetic. I couldn’t look away. He examined me closely, and I saw a flicker of amusement cross his face. He had dark wavy hair, a strong jaw line, and the most sensuous lips I’d ever seen on a man. His shoulders were broad, his arms and torso obviously muscular beneath his perfectly tailored Hugo Boss suit. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a monogrammed silk handkerchief. “Here. Use this,” he said, offering it to me. I hesitated for a moment, still dumbstruck by the devastating hotness of this man in front of me. When I finally took the handkerchief from him, our fingers brushed, and I felt my whole body shiver with pleasure.

  “Thanks,” I said, quietly, afraid that my voice would tremble and betray the effect he was having on me. Then I looked down, and realized the coffee had also dribbled onto my chest. I started trying to wipe myself dry, but I was a mess. The coffee had already seeped into the dress. As I dabbed away, I could feel his eyes taking in my curves, my body.

  “You’ll have to get that dry cleaned,” he finally said. “It’s such a lovely dress,” he added, his eyes once again riveted to mine, full of a new, darker intensity than they’d held a moment before. We stared at each other for a long moment, the sexual charge between us undeniable. Finally, I willed myself to break his gaze, and handed back the handkerchief. That’s when I noticed the initials. JM. Oh, hell. Julian McGregor. My boss’s partner.

  I heard more footsteps, and turned in their direction. “Hello, Sarah.” It was my new boss.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cooper,” I said, getting to my feet and reaching out my hand.

  “Please,” he said, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Call me Paul.” As he reached out to grab my hand, I marveled again at his warm, confident handshake. Dressed in a navy blue Armani suit, and standing at six feet, his posture full of quiet confidence, he was the picture of success and professionalism. He gave Julian a nod and then said, “I see you’ve met my business partner.”

  “Yes,” I said meekly, feeling excruciatingly uncomfortable. I was looking at my boss, but I could feel Julian studying me intently, with that unnerving gaze that made me feel as though he could see right through me.

  “We haven’t officially met,” Julian said. I noticed my boss take in my dress and frown slightly.

  “I had a little accident,” I said, mortified that Paul would think I came to the office dressed like this. “Julian lent me his handkerchief.”

  Paul nodded, but his brow furrowed slightly. “How kind of him,” he said, his tone containing a twinge of something I couldn’t quite place. Then he said, “Julian, this is Sarah. My new hire.” This time his tone was no nonsense, and seemed to contain a warning.

  Julian flashed me a huge smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Nice to meet you, Sarah. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” Then he nodded curtly at Paul, and went back over to the receptionist to ask her something, which was presumably what he’d come into the lobby to do in the first place.

  “Let’s get you set up,” Paul said, turning his attention back to me and gesturing for me to follow him. I grabbed what was left of my coffee, smoothed down my dress, and went after him. I was still shaken by my run in with Julian, but I had to keep it together. This was the first day of my career, and I was not going to blow it. As hot as he was, Julian was not an option. He was practically my boss. I couldn’t deny the intense attraction I felt for him the instant I saw him, but I’d just have to suppress it, or better yet, stay far away from him. We passed several cubicles, and finally arrived at an empty one. “This here is your office,” he said, pointing toward the long desk, computer, and empty swivel chair.

  I immediately noticed a huge stack of papers on the corner of the desk. It almost reached to the top of the cubicle wall. I shot Paul a quick questioning glance, then gestured with my hand toward the enormous pile. “Let me guess,” I said. “Slush pile?”

  Paul chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling again. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “The unsolicited scripts keep coming in. A big part of your job will be going through them, looking for a diamond in the rough.”

  I flashed him a quick smile. “I’m up for the challenge,” I said.

  Paul frowned slightly. “It’s good to be optimistic,” he said, his voice full of caution. “I don’t want to dash your hopes, but you’ll be reading a lot of trash. Once in a blue moon we find something worthwhile, but it rarely happens. Still, it’s your job to read through them and keep your eyes peeled.”

  I stared at the pile, and felt determination rise in me. “If there’s something decent in there, I’ll find it,” I said.

  Paul shook his head, then studied me for a moment. “We’re not looking for decent, Sarah. We’re looking for exceptional.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, looking down and feeling slightly embarrassed at coming across as such a beginner.

  “But that’s not all you’re here to do,” he said, his tone getting serious, even slightly stern. “You’ll also be writing up my notes, taking minutes at meetings, filing, photocopying, fetching coffee, you name it. The slush pile is the lowest on your list of duties. But I still expect you to get it through it. Even if it means doing it on your own time. Understood?”

  Paul’s eyes filled with a stern expression as he studied me closely, gauging my response. I knew when I accepted this job that he was a workaholic, and ran his new hires ragged. But he was also one of the best in the business, and I was ready to work my butt off and embrace this opportunity to learn as much as I could. “Understood,” I said, meeting his gaze with an expression I hoped conveyed firmness and confidence.

  His eyes crinkled again slightly, the warmth I’d seen earlier returning to them. “Good,” he said. He looked at me like he was debating something. “If I gain confidence in your abilities, I’ll consider including you in meetings with our clients and potential clients.” He eyed me again carefully. “But not until you prove yourself.”

  “Understood,” I said.

  “Great,” he said. “Now let’s get to work.”

  ***

  The whole day was a whirl of activity. If I wasn’t fetching coffee, or photocopying, I was writing up Paul’s notes, or reading a script from the slush pile. Paul was right. The stuff I was reading was abysmal. About an hour before it was time to go home, I was in the middle of a script about robbers disguising themselves as clowns and pulling off the ultimate bank robbery. The script read like a bad imitation of Point Break. As I was sitting at my desk, reading three pages of internal monologue that belonged in a novel, not a movie, someone knocked on my cubicle wall. I looked up. A
tall, lanky girl with straight brown hair, square-framed glasses, and a thick layer of blinding red lipstick poked her head in my cubicle.

  “Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said. Her tone was friendly, her smile was sugar-sweet, but her eyes were cold as they ran over every inch of me. “We’re both working for Paul, so I figured I should introduce myself.”

  I gave her a tight smile, and she smirked at me in response. “What are you working on?” she asked in a lilting tone.

  I hesitated for a moment, then figured, what the hell. It wouldn’t hurt to try to be friendly. “I’m in slush pile hell,” I said, shrugging helplessly.

  She gave me another sugar-sweet smile and then said, “Well, good luck with that. Paul is having a meeting with a client in three days, so I’m prepping for the meeting. It’s with a really talented screenwriter Paul signed.”

  I eyed her speculatively, then gave her a winning smile. “Wow, good for you,” I said enthusiastically. And I meant it.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, though,” she said. I gave her a confused look, and her lips twisted into a smirk. “I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve only been here three months and already Paul trusts me with the important stuff. In most cases, though, it takes years,” she said, giving me another sickeningly sweet smile. “So, don’t expect too much, okay?”