5. The Assistant

Honey - the past

“There. I made the call,” I said to Delta after hanging up from talking with Buddy Rodgers. By voice, he seemed a little too eager to come to L.A. I hoped the first impression in person would be better.

Worried, I wrapped my arms around my middle, wishing life could be easier, for once. Cal’s pressure continued. Even having his lawyers start drawing up the contracts with Kings and Edward, Delta had informed me.

He left me little choice. I needed a man. Now. I glanced at the photo of Buddy on my computer.

“Perfect. This will work. I have a good feeling,” Delta assured. “When Cal told me this morning to set an appointment to meet with his lawyer, who handles his will, I knew we had to accelerate this plan.”

“Do you really think he intends to change the will, so Edward gets it all?”

She gave me a sad, sympathetic twitch of her lips. “Sweetie, I know how long you and I have been working to keep Dream Waves alive for your mother’s sake, but I think it’s time to face facts. If this doesn’t work with Buddy, then we’re out of options. Look, I’ll delay the lawyer as long as I can to give you time to get Buddy on board.”

“I don’t know about this.”

Delta checked something off in her planner she was holding as if she had a checklist specifically for this occasion. “Relax. Buddy is an unknown in this town, making him the perfect long distance boyfriend. And, since our private investigator found out he comes from old money, he really is rich. What a bonus.”

“It doesn’t mean he’ll agree to be my fake husband. I can’t bribe him with money when it means nothing to him.” I regarded her salt and pepper short hair with bangs, the lighter streaks of which complimented her signature silver jewelry.

She’d always been a handsome woman back in the day. As best friends with Mom, they took the bus here together from their hometown somewhere in Iowa after they finished high school. Delta never achieved mom’s success as an actress, though.

With soft makeup, and a beautiful black body con dress, these days Delta painted a lovely picture of aging gracefully. With the help now and then of the best plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, of course. Would Mom have done the same if she’d been able to live a longer life?

“Maybe if I get him so excited about his project being filmed, then tell him it’ll happen only if he helps me with this one thing?” I chewed my cheek.

“He’s a man. Turn on your charm, bring out the goddess within, and you’ll have him under your control. You’ll be engaged in no time. If you play your cards right, there might be nothing fake about it,” she grinned.

I smirked at her and rolled my eyes. Getting married has never been a top priority for me. I liked my work and being an independent woman. My future belonged at the helm of Dream Waves Studios, even if it meant sacrificing love and marriage and children. Not a tough decision for me.

I never had the greatest examples of love in my life, anyway. With Mom’s tragic ending in Hollywood, how could I believe in it? And what man could I trust? They were all the same, in my opinion, at least here in L.A., and I dared anyone to tell me otherwise.

“If Buddy won’t go along with it, then I could lose everything to Cal’s whims. And to Edward.” I lamented and groaned.

“Well, there’s a simple way to avoid that. Use the proverbial casting couch when Buddy gets to town, and spread your legs, honey.” Her shriek of laughter pelted through my office as she returned to hers.

That couch proved the only way for Mom to get noticed as a young actress back in the day, according to a journal I’d found tucked into a box of her things Cal gave me after her funeral. I could only assume one of those auditions resulted in me.

Somewhere between the productions of Baja Beach Party and Plenty of Fish in the Sea, she hid away in Mexico to give birth to me. She would never admit who my father was, and I grew up raised by nannies while watching her act on the big screen.

There might have been a point where Cal cared for her, at least enough to take us in and marry her. For a while, they were the “it” couple in tinsel town, throwing lavish parties and turning Dream Waves into a highly competitive and successful studio.

But it wasn’t long before Hollywood, drugs, and politics mixed like a dangerous cocktail, and a scandal erupted between Mom and two senators. Cal threw her out, then she got gravely ill. After she passed away, the company had a string of bad hits, and that was the end of the golden era.

At least, as far as I knew. The actual truth probably contained a few more details. I’ve seen every documentary ever made about Mom, all of them alleging she’d contracted an incurable disease from her many partners. Some claimed the Senators’ people killed her to keep her mouth shut about deals they were working on. Cal kept me sheltered from it all as I grew up, and at least I had that to be grateful for with him.

Everything I did was to avenge my mother’s life, and to get back at the patriarchy that kept women down. Dream Waves Studio would be mine if it was the last thing I did.

I peered down at Buddy’s script. Quite a good one, actually. Better once our writers could revise it some. One that should make us a killing at the box office and in-home streaming. All this marriage business aside, I still had a studio to run, and of our latest round of script reviews, Buddy’s was at the top of our list, green lighted by Dad to make a deal.

But what if things went sour? If the situation turned Buddy against me and we were mid-production on his project. Contracts for this one would need to be solid—and a detailed marriage of convenience agreement worked up as well.

On my computer screen, I perused the file on Buddy once again, bringing up his photos and taking in every detail of him. Cute in a rich guy next door kind of way. At least I wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with him while parading him around town.

A week later,I arrived at LAX in time to pick up Buddy. I held a simple sign with his name on it and stood poised and professional in the baggage claim area, ready to meet the man who I hoped would help me save my company.

Would he have good breath?

A friendly laugh that I could stand?

How about his scent? Something just right, not overpowering, not cheap?

Nice teeth?

Ugh. As the seconds ticked away, waiting for him, the nerves hit me. This could be worse than going on a blind date. I knew what he looked like from photos, but they could cover up all kinds of sins, whereas in person he could be quite different.

I kept my eyes peeled until, finally, a man approached, nodding and smiling at me. Holy hell, the photos did not do him justice. Forget cute and the guy next door. Buddy Rodgers and all his gorgeous swagger had my knees almost giving out the closer he came to me.

Where has he been all this time? I could have made him a star based on looks alone. If he could act or not, no matter; we hired coaches to develop our talent. Like judging a book by a cover, most movie goers loved a good-looking leading man, and Buddy missed his calling.

I drew in a quick inhale through my nose to steady myself, and his scent hit me. Unlike any soap or aftershave, the pleasant aroma held a chemistry all its own, and words failed me to describe. Fake or not, the first chance I got, I’d steal a t-shirt of his if I could.

“I’m Buddy Rodgers.” That deep voice, minty breath, white teeth, and a rumble in his chest of a chuckle—all better than any date I’d been on, and we were only a few seconds in. And it’d been far too long since my last proper date; well-timed appearances on the arm of my leading men for publicity never counted.

I cleared my throat with a scolding and a reminder. I needed Buddy to perform a particular service for me. That was it. But it’s too damn bad I wasn’t here to find a real husband.