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I fiddled with a curl, puzzled by what she was saying. "So he's not happy being in the public eye?"
It didn't make sense--the reality TV show, the high profile celebrity clients, the glitz and glam that I'd been bombarded with since I agreed to be his assistant. None of it seemed to match up with someone that didn't love the flashing lights and everything they bring.
"What is happiness?" She didn't wait for an answer. "You are too young to be familiar with his father's work. He was huge in the pictures back in the 70's. Well, huge in Europe, anyway. His father, Carlton, came from nothing, so he invested, saved every penny so Jacob could have more." She shrugged her shoulders. "Jacob grew up in wealth. He knows nothing else."
"So, poor little rich boy?" As soon as it came out I regretted it and Allegra's eyes darkened. "I didn't mean that as harsh as it came out."
"It's alright," she said, but I could tell from the way she gripped her glass that I'd just lost some major points. "The world has no sympathy for the lot of those with money. We forget that money can't buy happiness."
Not knowing what to say to that, I stuffed a corner of bread in my mouth and chewed it nice and slow. I was hard on him, but the truth was I had no idea what it would be like to have my success, failures, loves and catastrophes to be broadcast for public consumption. I figured it was something I should say out loud so she didn't think I was completely rude when the chatter around us reached a fever pitch. Shouts in Italian mixed with other words, but there were two that I, and most of the free world, were familiar with. ‘Rachel Laraby’.
The sound of my chair creaking back met a chorus of others as everyone's attention turned to the front and gawked at the statuesque woman at the hostess desk.
Rachel Laraby—America's sweetheart since she played a plucky high school dropout alongside George Clooney. From there it was a string of romantic comedies and a sprinkle of indie films to maintain her street credit among the critics.
But it wasn’t all red carpets and Oscars for Rachel. At twenty-six, she'd been in and out of rehab three, no, four times. Unlike most celebrities that never fully recovered in the public eye, after each stint, Rachel regained the hearts and minds of anyone that set their eyes on her.
It made sense, I guess. She was the perfect Hollywood star with impossibly beautiful bone structure paired with bright green eyes and a smile photogenic enough to sell whatever it was tacked onto. Her ebony colored hair was always glossy with the right amount of body. Her curves made her relatable, but she was thin enough that she could wear the hell out of anything. Every woman wanted to be her and every man wanted to take her to bed.
And she was our client.
I glanced back at Allegra, the stars wearing off and confusion setting in. "Was there a meeting tonight?" I looked down at my outfit. "I can't meet Rachel Laraby wearing this."
"There is no meeting," Allegra said darkly. "Only trouble."
"Trouble?” I asked, even more confused. “But I-"
"Allegra De Luca!" If the flashes of cameras and phones intensifying around us was no indication, there was no mistaking Rachel's signature Southern drawl. "If you don't stand up so I can hug your neck!"
I'd seen the real thing enough to know the smile Allegra slathered on as she rose to her feet was far from genuine.
"Rachel," she said, wary edging her voice. "I didn't think we'd be seeing you until tomorrow morning."
Rachel waved a manicured hand, dismissing that whole notion. "I just had to come and say hello to my favorite woman in Venice!" She spun in a circle and swiped a nearby chair, managing to squeeze the wicker thing between the two of us and completely ignore my existence. Allegra flashed me an apologetic smile and when Rachel lowered her lean frame into the seat, began the pleasantries.
"Rachel," she began. "This is-"
"Any friend of Al's is a friend of mine!" Rachel cast a phony smile at me before she flipped her hair and leaned in toward Allegra. "I wanted to ask you about Jacob's new assistant. He's been keeping it so hush hush, so she must be something special."
"Allow me to introduce Leila Montgomery," Allegra said with a smug glimmer in her eye. "Jacob's lovely new assistant."
Rachel turned her head so hard I was surprised she didn't get whiplash. She inspected me, nice and slow, and from the snort that fell from her lips, I came up wanting.
"You can't be serious." She jutted a finger in my face, literally inches from my nose. "She's the new assistant?"
I felt anger sparking all over my body, but I tried to breathe through it. Maybe she didn't mean it as jack ass-y as it came out.
"Yes," I said placidly. "I'm the new assistant. And, uh, your finger-"
"Is this some sort of joke?" She gave me a sly smile. "Am I being Punk'd?"
"Get your hand out of my face," I growled, nostrils flaring.
She finally dropped the pointer, but not her shock at someone like Jacob hiring someone like me. For choosing someone like me. I glanced at Allegra and she was clearly struggling to hold her tongue too.
"Well, maybe after the others he finally went with someone that can do their job." Rachel gave my hand a sympathetic pat. "Someone...bookish."
"Bookish?" I fired back. I'd had my fill of people judging me by my employer and job title, and celebrity or not, I wasn't gonna lay down and let her denigrate me. "I don't know what your problem is-"
