by Clare Naylor
“I’m glad.”
“I got Jason Blum’s e-mail this morning, and it’s because of you that we as a company now have this great opportunity to work with an exciting new director.”
“Well . . .” I said modestly, “I’m not sure about that.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” His voice rang out around the half-furnished room. “You have taste. You have judgment. And in a couple of years’ time, we’re going to be looking a couple of those Academy Awards in the eye, thanks to your ability to spot a good thing when you see it.”
“Oh, Scott, really, I think that may be a little premature,” I said. “But thank you.” I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his praise.
“Plus, we’re going to make a fair amount of cash on Jason Blum’s career, I’ll bet.”
“Well, yes, that’s probably true.”
“And you know me, Lizzie, I’m a fair guy.” He laughed. “Most of the time.”
“Well, you haven’t hit me with a deck of cards yet, so I’d say that’s pretty fair.” I shrugged and smiled. Embarrassingly, he didn’t laugh at this. He simply continued as if I’d never spoken.
“I’m a fair guy, and I believe in rewarding the loyalty of my employees. Now, you, Lizzie”—he pointed at me the way a sports coach might point at his star player—“you are something else. You’ve put your ass on the line for me. You’ve been a good friend to Lara, which I know only too well isn’t a piece of pie. You’ve worked hard and brought in new talent. And I don’t know how you came to work for me in the first place”—I wasn’t going to put my hand up at this point and tell him that it was Daniel’s doing—“but I am glad that fate brought you to my door.” He paused for a moment. Go, Scottie, I thought breathlessly.
“I’m glad I got the opportunity to work for you, too,” I assured him.
“I guess what I really want to say is that I believe in rewarding greatness. So I have an offer to make to you, Lizzie.” He sat up in his seat and beamed at me expectantly.
“You do?” My toes were fizzing with anticipation. A million thoughts raced through my mind, but, like swirling snowflakes, none of them settled.
“I do.” He leaned forward and looked me in the eye. I sat up straight in preparation for what he had to ask me.
“I also like you, Lizzie. You’re a great kid. You have a level head. You’re easy on the eye.” He winked. That would go down well with Human Resources, I thought.
“Lizzie?”
“Yes, Scott?”
“Lizzie, as you know, there’s going to be a vacancy in this office as of today.”
“Yes?”
“And I would really, truly love it if you’d agree to come and work for me.”
I held my breath and blinked. “Yes?”
“As my first assistant.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We would like to thank some special people who have helped to bring this book into being.
The Blonde, our éminence grise. You are a genius, a loyal friend, and the wildest, greatest girl in the world.
Barney Cordell, with loving thanks—for your poker expertise and all the other things you do so brilliantly.
Emma Parry, who miraculously manages to be Rumpole of the Bailey, Don King, and Mother Hen all at once. We’re so happy we found you.
Molly Stern, for your vision, enthusiasm, and generous ministrations.
Jon Levin, who is one of a rare breed—a dedicated agent and a lovely man.
Kamin Mohammadi, for your encouragement and for always laughing in the right places.
Meg Davidson, for your kitchen table, unerring hospitality, and the chats.
Marcie Hartley, for the joy with which you allow us to invade your life every time we descend on L.A.
Jason Blum, our favorite producer and greatest friend, who would never be seen dead in a yak wool sweater. Thanks for all that warm love from the West.
Lloyd Levin, unbeknownst to you a lot of this originated in your den. We promise to replace the Pop Tarts.
Richard Charkin, for the cocktails. We trust the adoption papers are in the mail.
Simon Amies, for your round-the-clock support and encouragement—even when you didn’t feel like giving it.
And thanks to all our friends, who put up with the panics and the flakiness with good grace and are always there when we need a margarita.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is
http://www.penguinputnam.com
