“Please, please, please. Get this to the receptionist and tell her it’s for John Coffey. Samuel Pleasant’s Oscar statue is in there. He lost it last night. He needs to get it back,” she said, giving him a meaningful look. There was no room for error in this delivery or both their heads would roll.
“Oh shit,” he said, his eyes popping wide with horror. “Okay, got it. I’ll make sure I walk it right into her. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“Thank you.”
A smile forced her panic away as she watched him buckle the bag into the passenger seat beside him. He nodded to her with a little salute of his fingers and then pulled a U-turn back on to the street. She sent up a prayer for a safe delivery, then snapped back into work mode.
She headed to the front door and waved at the handsome face she saw through the thick glass doors. Francesco, the doorman, buzzed her in.
“Good morning, my Amanda,” he said with his warm accent as she nudged her way inside with her elbow. He was from New Jersey and his real name was Eric, but the tenants didn’t need to know that. The Italian lie seemed fancier. His secret was safe with her though.
“Good morning, my love. What’s the news?” she asked as she walked to the elevator. It was their little game. Fake headlines by Francesco.
“Hollywood starlet plummets to her death after heated affair ends in tragedy.”
“Oh no!” Amanda said dramatically. “Give me something more upbeat tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, my dear. Only sunshine for you from now on.”
Amanda winked at him just as the elevator chimed. Five stories above, she quietly let herself into Dru Anastasia’s apartment. As she made her way into the kitchen, Gus, Dru’s woefully neglected Ragdoll cat, emerged from behind the island and wove his way between her feet.
“Hello, my precious. I didn’t forget about you.” She grabbed a can of wet food from under the counter and fed the sweet creature whose body mass was 90 percent fur.
When Amanda moved to LA five years ago she was determined to make it as a screenwriter, but that’s the thing about dreams. They rarely work out the way you want them to. She tried to work her way into a writers’ room, but something was always off. A job promised suddenly taken away, a project canceled. She’d gotten work as a production assistant and after a particularly bad day on set had her reconsidering her whole West Coast adventure, she’d met Kaidence Kener. She’d remembered her vaguely from her own brief run on the nineties beach drama Bay Guards. Her acting days were long behind her, but her daughter Dru was just getting started and Dru needed an assistant.
Amanda had told herself the job would just be temporary, a paycheck to keep a roof over her head and food in her stomach. She made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t give up on her writing. And she hadn’t. She stole whatever moments she could, jotting down bits and pieces on her phone and on her tablet. She’d finished two more screenplays in that time, but this gig, it had turned out to be anything but temporary. Somehow, she’d become Dru’s Girl Monday thru Saturday and definitely on Sundays if they were traveling. Kaidence put her to work whenever she felt Amanda was idle, organizing her closet or researching new avenues for Dru to explore on social media.
The money was good and it covered her health insurance, but it wasn’t her dream. One day she’d move on. She just wasn’t sure when or how.
Her phone vibrated as she set Dru’s breakfast out on her favorite bamboo serving tray. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the text from Helene.
I know you’re working but text me as soon as you can. Ignacio said you he thinks you left with someone. I need deets!
Helene added an eggplant, a water-squirting, and a peach emoji, in that order. Amanda covered her snort, then slipped her phone back into her pocket. She grabbed the tray, then carried it into Dru’s darkened room.
“Nnhgggg,” Dru groaned as she covered her head with her pillow.
“Good morning.”
Dru sat up and tossed her pillow across the room. There were still a dozen more on the bed to keep her comfortable. “What’s so good about it?” she snapped.
“Oh, you sound so much better.”
“And you’re too fucking cheery. Dial it back like five notches, will you.” Dru rubbed her eyes, then grabbed the remote for her curtains. Sunlight flooded the room.
“Happiness keeps you healthy and I need to be healthy for you,” Amanda said. She was absolutely joking, but she knew her sickly sweet personality drove Dru crazy. Killing her slowly with kindness was part of her retirement plan. She set down the tray on Dru’s wide night table. “Here’s your breakfast when you’re ready. If you’re feeling up to it, Sage will meet you at the yoga studio in thirty minutes or I can call her and cancel.”
“No. I need to go. I’ve been in bed too long. My muscles are going to atropy.”
“Atrophy.”
“Whatever, you knew what I meant.”
“And I think it takes a little longer than a weekend for that to happen. I’ll text her and let her know you’re on your way.”
“Gee thanks, you’re the best, Mandy,” Dru said sarcastically, knowing full well how much she hated that nickname. Amanda let the insult slide off her back because she knew what came next. Dru pulled her soft purple blanket up to the bottom of her chin. “Tell the whole truth. Do I look that bad?”
“You look beautiful,” Amanda replied, and it was the truth. Dru’s stunning natural beauty was the thing that landed her on three successful television dramas back-to-back, a nearly unfathomable feat
