Alex flew from New York to Nice on the twelfth of July to spend two weeks at a hotel in Cap d’Antibes that she had read about and never been to. It was the height of luxury, and she wanted to be pampered and lazy before she started work in London. And the hotel lived up to all her expectations for fabulous food, a great spa, a beautiful room, and private cabanas where she could lie in the sun and read without anyone seeing or bothering her.
She arrived in London on the thirty-first of July with a honey-colored tan, looking rested and relaxed when she checked into Claridge’s for one night. She was picking up the keys to the house the production company had rented for Mr. Green the next day, and they hoped it would be to his liking. There were six bedrooms for himself and his alleged entourage. She needed the house to keep up the charade that he and his staff would be there, although all she needed was the master bedroom for herself. She planned to have her own cleaning service like the one she’d had in L.A. And she called Fiona as soon as she got to her room. Alex had left London almost exactly a year before. Since then, Fiona had gotten married and was pregnant. They had agreed to have dinner that night, and Alex couldn’t wait to see her.
They met at Barrafina in Soho for dinner, and Fiona told her all about married life and how happy she was with Clive, and they were over the moon about the baby.
“What are you doing back here?” She wanted to know.
“I have a job as a production assistant, working on a TV series,” she said humbly. “It’s a low-level job, but I thought it would be fun. It’s only for three months.”
“It sounds terrific.” It never dawned on Fiona that they could have hired a production assistant in London, and didn’t need to bring one out from New York. She was just happy to see her friend. She had changed jobs after Alex left, so she hadn’t seen Ivan in over a year. She had heard that he’d gotten fired, but didn’t know if it was true or not.
Fiona dropped Alex off at the hotel on her way home, and they promised to get together soon. Alex had told her the production company was paying for the hotel and she’d be moving to a house in a few days. Alex said she’d call her with the number.
The next morning, Alex reported to work on time, wearing jeans, a tee shirt, and a leather jacket. They had provided a car and driver to take her to the television studio. And they gave her an office as soon as she got there, and showed her around.
“I don’t suppose Mr. Green will be coming in himself?” the head production assistant asked discreetly. “We have an office for him too, if he wants it.”
“That won’t be necessary, he won’t come in,” Alex said crisply. “He does all his work at home, and has me bring the notes in, or email them.”
“Of course.” They treated her like royalty and introduced her to everyone. The screenwriter was a woman, and had a big reputation. And the director was very jovial. Alex was at her desk, trying out the computer, when the producer stuck his head in the door to meet her.
“Hello, welcome! I’m Miles McCarthy,” he said with a broad smile. He looked younger than she’d expected, although she knew from his bio that he was forty-one years old. He strode across the room to shake her hand. He was tall and lanky, wearing the same outfit she was, with a baseball cap on backward that he’d gotten at a concert the night before. “Everything the way you want it?” he inquired with a smile. “Give a shout if we forgot something. My office is just down the hall. And my assistant is in the one next to mine.”
“No, it’s been perfect,” she reassured him, and he disappeared. She went to the house they’d rented for her and “Mr. Green” after that, to meet the realtor and get the keys. It was a beautiful old house near Hyde Park, immaculately furnished and decorated, with drawings of horses and fox hunts everywhere, a formal dining room, a remarkable wood-paneled library, an elevator, and a very elegant master suite. Alex realized that, given the location, it must be costing them a fortune.
She barely had time to move her things from Claridge’s and rush back to the office for a production meeting that afternoon.
There was a large group of people at the table, and the producer and director took turns discussing various aspects of the show. They introduced Alex to everyone, explaining that she would be their liaison to Mr. Green. No one seemed troubled by it, and after the meeting Miles came over to talk to her, and explained that the actors were starting rehearsals the next day. They had gotten everything on track very quickly.
“Is the house all right?” he asked with concern.
“It’s fantastic. He’s going to love it.”
“My assistant picked it,” he said, pleased. She noticed that he had sandy blond hair with gray in it, and striking blue eyes. “When is Mr. Green arriving, by the way?”
“Late tonight, by private plane, with the staff.” It was the same story she’d told in L.A., and everyone believed it.
“We’re so glad he agreed to do the series. It’s going to be really great. And the screenwriter is excellent. I’ve worked with her before, on two shows. She does crime and mystery particularly well.”
“I’m sure he’ll be very happy,” Alex reassured her.
The producer left her then, to take care of a thousand details, and she discovered that he had an assistant just to attend to the needs of the actors. It was an impeccably run operation. She went to see the soundstage then, and was impressed by that too, and then she went home to relax in the fabulous house they had rented without knowing it was for her. While she was unpacking, an enormous bouquet of flowers arrived to her attention, and a magnum of champagne for Mr. Green. She was sorry she couldn’t give the magnum to Bert, and told him about it on the phone when she called him.
“Well, it won’t do me any good if it’s in London,” he complained. She told him about the production company and the house, and he got off the phone after that. He had a leak in his kitchen, and the plumber had just arrived. And Alex went to finish her unpacking and set up everything she needed on her desk. She was all set to start work in earnest the next day, and she couldn’t wait to see the script they were going to give her in the morning. They wanted Mr. Green’s notes on it as soon as possible, which she had assured them she could arrange.
When Alex got to the office the next day, the place was buzzing. The actors were in their dressing rooms. Catering had set up a breakfast buffet for anyone who wanted it. Hairdressers and makeup artists were everywhere, and, as promised, one of the producer’s assistants handed her two scripts, one for her and the other for her employer, and Alex went to her office to read it. It was extremely good. She made notes as she was reading, but had very few changes or comments.
“How does it look to you?” Miles stuck his head in and asked her when he saw that she was reading the script.