Page 4 of Reckless
I take a steadying breath as Catherine speaks, gathering my thoughts. “I’d like to get involved straight away to get a feel for the cast and crew. I’m a bit of an amateur photographer—I took some classes in college—and I’d like to work with the still photographer on set to get some background images of prep for a behind-the-scenes social media campaign to get started. Mr. Oswald will be a tough sell, but maybe we can work that to our advantage—hint at his presence to stir the older generation and wow the younger who grew up watching him act in films. Sort of a teaser campaign to draw interest while we begin filming.”
She considers for a moment, then says, “Why don’t you go to the pre-production meeting tomorrow morning? You can meet everyone and get your feet wet since you’ll be living and breathing this movie for the next several months. For the foreseeable future, you’ll need to be on set if you aren’t here or asleep. While you’re there, work with the photographer on what you have in mind for the social media campaign and, over the next week or so, draft up a proposal for your release strategy over the next several months.”
“I’m on it!”
“Additionally, I like to make it clear that employees are not to be romantically linked with anyone affiliated with a current contract. I’m sure you’ll understand that we like to keep our interactions strictly professional. There’s been... trouble with the lead, Griffin McNalley, in this respect on previous films. We’d like to discourage any negative press where he’s concerned.”
The thought of me being romantically linked with anyone, let alone someone I have to work with, is laughable. Men are so far off my radar, I forgot the steps to that whole dance a while ago. “Of course. I understand.”
She beams at me. “Wonderful. I have every confidence you’ll succeed here. I have another meeting, but you’ll be reporting directly to me for the duration of the contract. If you have a question and I’m not available, you can ask my assistant.”
I have a thousand questions and can’t wait to pour over the information in the folder. My inner film geek is squealing in delight. Trying to contain myself, I get to my feet, smoothing my serviceable black skirt with one hand, then transferring the folder to offer the other to Catherine. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mrs. Cole. I won’t disappoint you.”
“Catherine, please. We’re all friends here. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish. You can use the car service for transportation from the office to the studio. Location, contact information, etcetera is also all in the folder.”
Nodding, I clutch the folder to my chest and excuse myself back to my cubicle before I kiss her gorgeous designer pumps. One day I’ll have an office with a view, but honestly, this is already going better than all of my wildest dreams. I close my eyes for a moment as a negative thought bubble pops in my head, reminding me that something bad is sure to happen to balance out my good fortune.
You can’t think like that.
One breathing exercise later, I place the folder on my desk. Reverently, I open it to find a brief summary of the project, a bio of Whitmore Studios, and up-to-date information about Arthur Oswald. I weigh all three and decide to start with the studio and save Arthur for last.
Whitmore Studios is an up-and-coming venture, having put out three runaway blockbusters in the last five years. Their projects are all well-cast and well-reviewed. Not intimidating, considering I’ll be the coordinator between the studio and the film to take their publicity campaigns to the highest level. The assets I manage during filming will assist in making or breaking its release. No pressure.
I’m almost as excited to read about the film as I am to learn more about the illusive man himself. My foot jiggles as though I’ve mainlined three shots of espresso. It has everything. Passion, intrigue, action, emotion. Everything I’d expect from an Oswald project.
My breathing exercises don’t help at all once I set the other paperwork aside and dive for Arthur’s. Before I read the first line, I’m interrupted by a knock at my cubicle. I turn and find an attractive, petite brunette with a sunny smile, the kind of smile you can’t help but return.
“Hello!” she says pleasantly. “I wanted to pop by and introduce myself before you get busy. I’m Delilah Marshall, the marketing manager.”
“So nice to meet you! I’m Phoebe Hart, but my family calls me Bea.” We exchange a warm handshake.
She gives a sweet giggle. “I like you already. My friends call me Dee. I’ll be handling everything on the post-production end for the studio, so we’ll be coordinating a lot throughout the process. My number is in your info packet, so feel free to call me anytime you have an issue.”
“Thanks, Dee. I’ll definitely do that.”
She waves a little, and her hair sways as she glides away. Thank goodness she’s super nice. I’ve heard horror story after horror story about the industry, and I am happy she hasn’t turned out to be one of them.
My first day is off to a wonderful start. And I didn’t even need my new gun. My smile is a tad wry as I turn back to my desk. Dad would be so disappointed.
Chapter Two
Griffin
The long stretch of freeway between my home in Huntington Beach and Los Angeles beckons, a siren call. A hint of danger. My favorite temptress.
Seth punches my shoulder from the passenger seat without looking up from his phone. “Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warns.
“You know for my assistant, you sure have a filthy mouth,” I say, checking my rearview mirror. Empty.
There’s no one around. Rare for a Monday morning.
“So fire me,” Seth shoots back.
“Maybe one day I will.” Which we both know is a lie.
He snorts. “Yeah, right. Like you could survive without me. If it doesn’t have tits or an ignition, you’re clueless.”
I’d argue, but he’s not wrong. The speedometer inches towards eighty. It’s a shame to keep a beauty like a fire-engine red Nissan GT-R reined in. A damn shame.