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She has to be referring to the scene that hit the tabloids.
“When I’m up in the tree . . . well, all my lines . . . they just evaporate from my brain. I’m not a fan of heights to begin with. I’m afraid that after last week, with how dangerous it was, I won’t be able to—”
“Do you want help running your lines?”
The key to getting rid of her nerves rests in diverting her train of thought. If we can get her focusing on the lines, she won’t be thinking about the height. We can’t have her working herself up before she’s even in the tree.
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not, Teagan. That’s what I’m here for.” I smile wide, hoping to ease her discomfort. “I’m here to make your life easier. I’ll do whatever is in my power to ensure you’re comfortable and able to fulfill your commitment.”
I stress that last word, hoping it hits home. She signed a contract, and a breach wouldn’t be good for any of us.
Her forehead crinkles, and two lines form between her eyebrows, then she nods.
“I appreciate you. You really are one of a kind.”
At least someone thinks so.
12
Paxton
@Stargossip: What would you do to have one night with Brad Wright on a remote island with nothing but the stars as witnesses?
@GunsandPoses: I’d give up my cat . . . and my Pokémon collection!
@Lacklusterlover: No thanks. I need a challenge . . .
@SunshineDaisy: Can I trade him for Teagan? I’d switch teams for that!
@Deathtothesystem: Brad’s a pig. Pass!
By the time I find my way to craft services, a crowd has already formed to get food.
With a tilt of my head, I search the area, my gaze landing on Brad. He’s across the clearing, talking to Stefan.
I have no desire to speak to him this early in the morning. I don’t deal with idiots before coffee. Before I’m seen, I make a beeline in the opposite direction, my eyes landing on Mallory.
She’s got her coffee cup in hand, but she doesn’t get far. Within a few steps, Jeffrey, the executive producer of the film, steps up to her.
I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but I can only imagine. As a part of the elite, surely, Jeffrey knows exactly who she is. Despite not working for her father, she is still Hollywood royalty, and this little world of glitz and glamour is rather small. I have the perfect view of him, and I don’t miss how quickly he juts out his hand to introduce himself.
I pivot away, not wanting to watch that any more than I want to talk to Brad. It’s yet another reminder of nepotism in Hollywood and how birth elevates the lucky few.
I’ll work my ass off to rise to the top on my own. Thank you very much.
I’m not interested enough in their budding relationship to stand here gawking at them. They’ll shake hands. She’ll bat her long eyelashes. The next thing you know, she’ll be booking Teagan left and right because of all the connections the last name Reynolds makes.
The truth is, for the next few days, I’m gonna have to deal with a lot of shit, and starting my morning off being reminded that she’s the daughter of a man I hate, isn’t helping my surly attitude.
I head over to where the food is set up, grab a piece of bread, and take a bite before making my way to get some coffee. I’ll need it before speaking with Michael.
He’s standing next to an attractive blonde who’s overdressed for this neck of the woods. I vaguely remember her as a publicist, which makes sense, but who does she represent?
She certainly doesn’t represent Brad. Although it would be good for his reputation, Brad does not employ women, not for the publicist role, at least. I’ve often wondered why, but for the sake of my working relationship with the asshole, it’s best I don’t understand his inner workings.
My job is to negotiate the deals, keep him busy, and ensure that he follows through with his contractual obligations without causing too much shit in the process.
I know Teagan has a very modest staff, which leads me to believe this woman is the publicist for the movie.
Good idea to bring her here, considering the lousy PR the film is already getting in the tabloids.
I’m sure they are hopeful whoever was leaking information on set is gone with the round of firings, but having a publicist in place, just in case, could give the film enough time to spin it for the greater good. Or at least one would hope. By the time I’m standing in front of them, Michael is about to leave.
“Morning. Got to run. But I’ll see you on set,” he calls over his shoulder, rushing off to be at Stefan’s beck and call.
