She quickly but quietly began to search the room for her things. Her jeans and shirt were back at Helene’s house up in the Hills. She’d have to worry about that later. She grabbed her sequin jumpsuit and her silver strappy sandals, then slipped into the bathroom, dressing in record time. Her bladder was screaming, but there was no way she could risk flushing the toilet. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to be the nasty ass who peed in Sam Pleasant’s hotel room and didn’t flush. She telegraphed the message to her bladder, just wait five more minutes, then she checked her face in the mirror. Thank God her makeup was barely smudged.
Normally she was good at being invisible. Every Hollywood assistant had mastered the skill—ever present, but never seen, never heard, and definitely never photographed. She hoped being Black, a size twenty, and not at all famous would reduce the chances of anyone noticing her walk of shame. Or should she say, strut of triumph? She’d definitely had sex with Sam Pleasant and that was worth celebrating. In any event, smudged makeup would attract someone’s attention. For now she was just your average Oscar night partygoer on their way home. With eighty-five minutes to spare before she had to be at work.
She crept back into the room and grabbed her clutch off the hotel desk, then grabbed the swag bag she’d received from the only post-award-show gifting suite Helene had managed to sneak her into. No way Amanda was leaving that behind. She’d investigate the full extent of her spoils once she got home. She did one final visual sweep of the room, then fled into the morning.
In the elevator she called for a Lyft. Jerod was five minutes away.
In the lobby things were still quiet. No one but people like Amanda woke up this early, the first-shifters who got other people’s days started for them. Amanda would be lying if she said she didn’t find a little thrill in it. Yeah, the work was thankless, but often she was the first to witness so many things. Things she couldn’t talk about, but still, she was always in the know.
She used the restroom, then stepped out into the predawn morning just as Jerod pulled up to the curb in front of the W Hotel.
“Fun night?” he asked as she buckled her seat belt.
“It was a great night. Thank you.”
“Well, let’s get you home.”
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to her place in Beverly Hills. Technically it was Beverly Hills, but not the rich, fancy, big mansion part most people thought of when they pictured the famous zip code, and the adorable cottage facing the street definitely wasn’t hers. She lived in the back. She tipped Jerod in the app, then hurried inside. She had just enough time to shower and shovel down a quick breakfast before she got on with her day.
She threw a frozen breakfast burrito in the microwave, fixed her triangle braids up in a high topknot, then hopped under the hot spray, where she scrubbed the night off her face. Quick lotion up and wardrobe change and she was almost ready to go.
She flopped down on her bed to pull on her Converse and accidentally knocked her after-party gift bag to the floor. It landed with a sickening thud that she was sure had dented the old hardwood floors. She picked up the bag and glanced inside, just to make sure her brand-new bits of expensive swag were okay.
And that’s when she realized her mistake.
She’d grabbed the wrong bag.
There was an iPhone in its crisp white box. Beside it was another box and beside that was a pristine Oscar statue.
“No, no, no, no, noooo.” Amanda carefully pulled the beautiful golden knight out of the bag and examined the envelope that had been lying beneath it.
Best Performance by an Actor
in a Supporting Role,
Samuel Pleasant, The Sky Beneath Our Feet
“Oh my gosh. No!” This was not the time to panic, but of course she was panicking. She had to get the award back to Sam or Sam’s team, and she had to do it now.
Amanda fell back on the bed and googled frantically, looking for the name of Sam’s agent. She knew everyone who represented everyone in prime-time TV, but film stars were not her area of expertise. Not while her boss Dru Anastasia was still employed in the world of teen paranormal dramas. It took a few clicks and swipes, but she managed to find it. John Coffey at TCA. He shared an agency with Helene. Great. She swiped over to JackRabbit, the courier app she used at least twice a day, and scheduled a pickup for right outside Dru’s apartment building on Sunset. Hopefully, Sam was a late sleeper and the missing statue would be back in the right hands before he wondered where she’d gone.
With the pickup confirmed, she packed her bag for the day, making sure she didn’t forget Sam’s swag bag or his award, and hurried out to her midsize SUV parked out on the street.
Traffic and the parking gods were on her side. She made it to Delightly, Dru’s favorite restaurant, and found an empty meter right in front. She ducked in and grabbed Dru’s breakfast, then booked it over to her apartment building on the west end of the Sunset Strip. She had to park two blocks away, but if she power walked at just the right speed she would be two minutes early. Dru didn’t like to see her sweat.
She made it
