“Get your hands off me!” a man roared.
Poppy, Greta, and Trent all hustled back in the other direction, rounding the corner and entering the bar to see what all the commotion was about.
Timothy, the production assistant, was manhandling another man, in his early thirties, on the shorter side, thin, stylishly dressed in a Hugo Boss suit and tie, with close-cropped blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The man was trying to push Timothy away, but the young PA was determined to hold on to him unlike the last guy who crashed the set.
“If you rip this jacket, you’re paying for it, you little creep!” the man bellowed.
Poppy did not recognize the well-dressed man but Greta certainly did.
“What the hell are you doing here, Fabian?” Greta snarled. “How did you sneak your way onto this set?”
Fabian ceased grappling with Timothy, who finally let him go, allowing him to brush himself off. “I have my ways. I had to do something. You don’t return my calls, you ignore my requests for an interview. I am trying to be fair to you in my story, but you don’t make it easy. Why not just cooperate?”
“Because you’re a self-serving, muckraking journalist on a single-minded mission to destroy Hal Greenwood with a fake news hit piece.”
“I wouldn’t call fifteen on the record sources fake news, Greta,” Fabian sniffed.
A lightbulb went off in Poppy’s head.
Fabian.
Fabian Granger.
Poppy had seen the handsome young reporter interviewed on CNN. He was a bright, up-and-coming investigative journalist known for his hard-hitting stories of egregious behavior in both Hollywood and Washington, DC. His other claim to fame was being the answer to a Jeopardy! question. “Who is a distant relative of Hollywood film star Farley Granger?”
Fabian was despised by the Hollywood and DC establishments, but his stories resonated with the public. Corruption, sexual misconduct, everything was fair game. He had recently begun writing about entertainment moguls like Hal Greenwood, who had a history that at best could be described as “bad boy behavior” and at worst, criminal offenses including assault and battery, harassment both sexual and otherwise, and financial malfeasance. Hal Greenwood raged in the press that he was being unfairly targeted, and also made a point of banning all reporters, especially Fabian Granger, from his film sets.
“So will you talk to me?” Fabian asked, hopeful.
Greta didn’t blink. She just stared daggers at the appealing young man with expensive taste in suits. “Timothy, escort him out and make sure he doesn’t find his way back in, do you hear me? If he gives you any trouble, call security.”
Timothy nodded, reaching out to grab Fabian’s arm, but Fabian moved away from him. “Don’t you dare touch me. I’ll go on my own.” He then turned back and spit out, “You have twenty-four hours before my story goes up online, Greta. Tick tock.”
And then he stormed off.
Greta signaled Timothy to follow Fabian and make sure he actually left and didn’t try to double back to get a few more juicy quotes from the cast and crew.
“What kind of story is he writing?” Poppy quietly asked.
Greta was clearly shaken by Fabian’s unexpected presence, but tried to brush it off as if she was unconcerned. “Typical character assassination. Hal’s weathered them countless times. Granger’s angling for a Pulitzer so he’ll write about anything provocative, true or not, just to get himself some attention.”
Poppy resisted the urge to excuse herself and chase after the young reporter to find out what kind of trail he was following, but she never had the chance because at that moment Danika burst into the bar, eyes wide with fear, her face pale. “Please, somebody, stop them before they kill each other!”
Danika spun back around to lead the way, and Poppy, Greta, and Trent all followed her back outside to the pool area in time to see the male lead on the film, Chase Ehrens, grappling on the tiled floor with a man whose face they couldn’t see because Chase, who was now throwing hard, violent punches at the man’s face, was blocking him. The man underneath Chase managed to knee him in the groin, causing Chase to howl like a wild animal, which allowed the man to roll away from him. When he jumped to his feet, Poppy gasped. It was Matt, his nose was bloodied and there were scratches on his neck. Matt wiped the blood away with his shirtsleeve as Chase dove at him, relentlessly pummeling him with more blows.
Trent sprang forward to pull Chase off Matt, and got elbowed in the cheek for his effort.
“Chase, what’s going on here?” Greta cried, although she made no move to stop the brawl.
“Somebody do something!” Danika cried.
With Trent moaning, holding his face with his hand, Poppy knew she had to try and break this up. She was about to physically intervene and risk damage to herself when suddenly Matt reached up and planted the palms of his hand on Chase’s rock-hard chest and shoved him as hard as he could. Chase stumbled backward, tripping over a lounge chair, and went hurtling into the swimming pool near the deep end. When he emerged, his face was a deep red from the humiliation and embarrassment. Two crew members, who had sauntered in during the fight carrying some klieg lights, dropped everything to haul a soaking wet Chase out of the pool.
Chase waved them away and marched up to Greta. “This lunatic attacked me for no reason! Call the police, Greta! I want him arrested!”
Greta tried adopting a motherly tone. “Let’s just calm down, Chase, and—”
“No! He could have messed up my face, put the whole production, my career, in jeopardy!”
Trent whispered under his breath next to Poppy, “He’s right about that. His face is his biggest asset. It’s not like he can rely on his acting skills.”
Poppy resisted the urge to laugh. She raced over to
