“He hasn’t seen it yet.” And neither had she.
“They were supposed to give it to you yesterday.” He said something to one of the production assistants and she scurried off to get two copies for Alex. “That reminds me, there’s something in it I want to show you, so you can ask him how he feels about it. It’s a piece of dialogue I lifted from the book, but I put into another character’s scene.” He opened his dog-eared copy of the script to the correct page and showed it to her. She read it and nodded.
“That should be fine,” she said to him. “I like it.” And he looked at her dismissively.
“I didn’t ask if you like it. I want to know if he likes it.” She had almost forgotten her role for a minute as the assistant with no authority to make decisions, and she apologized immediately.
“Of course. I’ll ask him tonight.”
“Will he take calls during the day?”
“He won’t answer a cellphone,” she said simply, and Malcolm nodded. He was willing to accept any quirk his idol had.
The meeting was long and wasted a lot of time. A catering group set up an enormous buffet at noon, and they were trapped in the room till six o’clock, going over meaningless details, but Alex had no choice but to sit there. She had a list of questions to ask her alleged employer, and had promised to email the answers that night. She knew the answers to all of them obviously, but had to play dumb. She was getting into the Escalade when Malcolm walked over to her. He had a swagger, and a great body, and his muscles rippled as he walked. He had thick dark hair to his shoulders, a tan, and blue eyes. He looked like a beach boy in the standard flip-flops and shorts.
“Tomorrow is going to be rough,” he warned her. “The actors always come in with a list of dumb questions and complaints about the dialogue. Tell Mr. Green not to worry about it and don’t take it to heart. I’ll run interference for him.”
“That will mean a lot to him,” Alex said reverently, trying not to laugh as he lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“Look, I know what the ground rules are here, but if I swear not to tell anyone, do you think you could get me in to see him for a few minutes? It would be the best day of my life.” She decided to squash his pretensions early so as not to run into problems later on, with him, or anyone else.
“I can’t do that. He’s my employer, and he would fire me on the spot.”
“As one writer to another,” he whispered, “maybe if he likes the script…”
“He doesn’t see anyone,” she said firmly. “He never makes exceptions. He’s been a recluse ever since a family tragedy. I wouldn’t dare cross that line with him.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t know…who died? His wife? A child?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it, and actually I’m not sure.” She wanted to get off that hook quickly now that she had made it up. “It happened long before I came to work for him. I’ve only heard rumors, and I don’t know if they’re true.”
“Well, if you see an opening, put in a word for me, will you? I want to meet him just once before we finish the film.” She wanted to scream, “You have, you idiot,” but she continued to look respectful and in awe of him, with no authority of her own.
“I’ll email you tonight, with the answers to today’s questions,” she said efficiently.
“Do you know when? I have a date tonight. Should I cancel it? Will he talk to me on the phone?”
“No, he won’t. Don’t cancel your date. I’ll be meeting with him as soon as I get back to the house. And I’ll let you know right away.”
“Thanks.” He sauntered away again, and Alex got in the car, set the GPS, and drove home. None of the staff or crew was supposed to know the location of the house that had been rented for him, and she hoped there would be no slips, or worse, paparazzi at the gate. She was beginning to see how complicated it was going to be on the set. It was workable, but she was going to be lying through her teeth constantly.
She headed for her computer as soon as she walked in the door, to put Malcolm out of his misery. She knew all the answers he wanted, and she reeled them off in five minutes and hit send.
He responded ten minutes later.
“Wow! He’s amazing. Thanks for the quick answers. Please thank him for me. This is going to be a piece of cake.” But not for her.
“No problem, I’ll tell him,” she sent back, walked out to the patio, peeled off her clothes, and dove into the pool. It had been a long, incredibly boring day full of inane questions and people puffed up with their own self-importance who had nothing to say. The director was the only one in the room worth listening to, and Malcolm’s gushing praise of Alexander Green was so excessive that it made her feel slightly sick, like eating way too much chocolate cake.
The next day was even worse. With four major stars in the room, each one was competing for attention, wanted to be heard, had problems with almost every page of the script, wasn’t sure “they really felt the line in their gut” or if “it just wasn’t them.” Sam handled them masterfully, Malcolm just got into arguments with them, and all Alex could do was make notes about things to complain about later in the voice of her alleged employer.
There were several heated arguments, the female lead and a supporting actress hated each other, and the male lead lightly touched Alex’s breast when no one was looking when he walked by and then winked at her. “Are you kidding?” she muttered after he left, and Malcolm walked over to her.
“I saw that. He does it all the time. It wasn’t about you.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” she asked him and he laughed.
“Maybe both.” He complained about the female lead to her then, who he claimed was a bitch to work with. He’d been on a film with her before. But in Alex’s opinion, at least she was honest and outspoken about what she didn’t like. The other woman and the male lead seemed worse to her, more wheedling and passive-aggressive. And Malcolm had his hackles up over the script. So far what he’d written didn’t bother Alex, although it wasn’t great. But it wasn’t terrible either, and she realized you had to compromise in the movies. Every word was not going to be true to the book, and she didn’t expect that.
Each of the stars left earlier than they were supposed to. They had costume fittings and rehearsal the next day. And Alex’s head was spinning by the time she left at eight o’clock, after wasting two hours with Malcolm, talking about himself, and then asking her again to arrange a private audience with Mr. Green, which she told him again she could not do. And Rose Porter called her that night.
“How’s it going?”
“I’m not sure. A lot of temperaments and personalities, a lot of maneuvering for position, and the screenwriter thinks Alexander Green is God.”
“That must be nice to hear.”