burst into the reception area on day one and announced to Damien that she was taking me to lunch “because the way to an executive’s ear is through his assistant.”
Not that she needed me to have Damien’s ear. A former actress, Evelyn Dodge has held pretty much every job in Hollywood that it is possible to hold, and a few that I’m certain she invented herself. Recently, she’s returned from semi-retirement to agenting.
She’s known Damien since his tennis-star days, and represented him in endorsement deals and all the rest of the celebrity nonsense that comes with being a hot, good-looking athlete. And even more so when he became a hot, good-looking athlete surrounded by scandal.
Of course, I didn’t know either of them back then, but I do know that not only is Evelyn mama-bear loyal to Damien Stark, she’s also one of the funniest, brashest, most engaging women I’ve ever met. And I am limp with relief that she’s materialized right in front of me.
“I had no idea you were coming,” I say. “Do you rep someone here?”
“Not yet, but the night is young.” She takes my arm and leads me toward a waiter with a tray of tiny puff pastries topped with sour cream and caviar. “No, I’m here because of Michael.”
“The director?” I take the napkin and appetizer she passes me, then try to decide how I’m going to eat it since I’m still holding my wine in my other hand. “Do you know him well?”
“Not as well as I thought.” She takes my wineglass and downs the last of my cabernet, then hands the empty glass to a passing waiter. “We used to be married.”
“Oh.”
I think of Blaine, the flamboyant younger artist who now shares Evelyn’s bed. He’s about as opposite to Michael Prado as it’s possible to be. And despite their age difference, I have to say that I can’t imagine Evelyn on anyone’s arm but Blaine’s.
“So where’s Blaine?” I ask, then blush when she laughs because I am absolutely certain she has watched my train of thought play out across my face.
“Working in his studio.” She winks. “He thinks Michael’s a twit.”
I laugh. “Is he?”
“A bit, but a harmless one. And he’s a very good director, not to mention an excellent fund-raiser and board member. His failings are more concentrated in the domestic arena.” She shrugs matter-of-factly. “Then again, maybe the failings were mine.”
“Or maybe it’s nobody’s fault. Maybe you just didn’t click.”
“I like the way you think,” she says, but I’m barely listening. My words have unexpectedly resonated with me. Because Jackson and I did click—fully and completely. And the reason we’re not together right now is entirely my fault.
“You haven’t told me why you’re here,” she says. “Personal or professional?”
“You know I’m working on the Santa Cortez project, right?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hit a little snag.” I tell her about Glau, and about my hope that I can convince Jackson Steele to get on board. I don’t mention our past. Evelyn may be in the mood to overshare about her relationship, but I’m not feeling that chatty.
“You’re here to do the business mingle,” Evelyn says. “A time-honored tradition. I’m doing a bit of the same since I’m here.” She glances around the room, pointing out a few of the actors and actresses she has on her radar. “Well, there’s someone I didn’t expect to see.”
I follow her gaze and see Jeremiah Stark, Damien’s father. I glance at Evelyn with a frown. “Guess it’s a good thing Damien’s not here,” I say, then immediately regret my words, afraid I’ve overstepped my bounds. It’s no secret that Damien and his father do not get along, but as his assistant, I really shouldn’t be commenting on that. Even to a mutual friend.
Evelyn is completely unperturbed by my comment. “I’ve seen him at a lot of screenings lately—he’s determined to get a foot in the Hollywood door. But I’m surprised
Not that she needed me to have Damien’s ear. A former actress, Evelyn Dodge has held pretty much every job in Hollywood that it is possible to hold, and a few that I’m certain she invented herself. Recently, she’s returned from semi-retirement to agenting.
She’s known Damien since his tennis-star days, and represented him in endorsement deals and all the rest of the celebrity nonsense that comes with being a hot, good-looking athlete. And even more so when he became a hot, good-looking athlete surrounded by scandal.
Of course, I didn’t know either of them back then, but I do know that not only is Evelyn mama-bear loyal to Damien Stark, she’s also one of the funniest, brashest, most engaging women I’ve ever met. And I am limp with relief that she’s materialized right in front of me.
“I had no idea you were coming,” I say. “Do you rep someone here?”
“Not yet, but the night is young.” She takes my arm and leads me toward a waiter with a tray of tiny puff pastries topped with sour cream and caviar. “No, I’m here because of Michael.”
“The director?” I take the napkin and appetizer she passes me, then try to decide how I’m going to eat it since I’m still holding my wine in my other hand. “Do you know him well?”
“Not as well as I thought.” She takes my wineglass and downs the last of my cabernet, then hands the empty glass to a passing waiter. “We used to be married.”
“Oh.”
I think of Blaine, the flamboyant younger artist who now shares Evelyn’s bed. He’s about as opposite to Michael Prado as it’s possible to be. And despite their age difference, I have to say that I can’t imagine Evelyn on anyone’s arm but Blaine’s.
“So where’s Blaine?” I ask, then blush when she laughs because I am absolutely certain she has watched my train of thought play out across my face.
“Working in his studio.” She winks. “He thinks Michael’s a twit.”
I laugh. “Is he?”
“A bit, but a harmless one. And he’s a very good director, not to mention an excellent fund-raiser and board member. His failings are more concentrated in the domestic arena.” She shrugs matter-of-factly. “Then again, maybe the failings were mine.”
“Or maybe it’s nobody’s fault. Maybe you just didn’t click.”
“I like the way you think,” she says, but I’m barely listening. My words have unexpectedly resonated with me. Because Jackson and I did click—fully and completely. And the reason we’re not together right now is entirely my fault.
“You haven’t told me why you’re here,” she says. “Personal or professional?”
“You know I’m working on the Santa Cortez project, right?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hit a little snag.” I tell her about Glau, and about my hope that I can convince Jackson Steele to get on board. I don’t mention our past. Evelyn may be in the mood to overshare about her relationship, but I’m not feeling that chatty.
“You’re here to do the business mingle,” Evelyn says. “A time-honored tradition. I’m doing a bit of the same since I’m here.” She glances around the room, pointing out a few of the actors and actresses she has on her radar. “Well, there’s someone I didn’t expect to see.”
I follow her gaze and see Jeremiah Stark, Damien’s father. I glance at Evelyn with a frown. “Guess it’s a good thing Damien’s not here,” I say, then immediately regret my words, afraid I’ve overstepped my bounds. It’s no secret that Damien and his father do not get along, but as his assistant, I really shouldn’t be commenting on that. Even to a mutual friend.
Evelyn is completely unperturbed by my comment. “I’ve seen him at a lot of screenings lately—he’s determined to get a foot in the Hollywood door. But I’m surprised
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