“Birdie Harris. I’d like to spend a little time with her, lay down a good foundation, before we start filming.”
Both Damien and Blake look at each other skeptically.
“What?” I ask, and my assistant’s skepticism turns into outright laughter.
“Lay down a good foundation?” he asks obnoxiously. “Surely, you don’t think we were born yesterday.”
“I think you work for me,” I respond. “And when I tell you I want you to do something, you should probably fucking do it.”
“Uh oh,” Blake responds, the glow of amusement still dewy on his skin. “Someone’s getting fired up…”
“Or maybe someone’s getting fired…” I challenge, but Blake is unaffected. He’s worked for me for too long.
“As if you could live without me,” he claps back. “But in the name of keeping things simple, I’ll get something set up with Miss Birdie Harris so you can, how did you put it? Lay down a good foundation?” His voice drips with sarcasm, but I don’t give a shit. At least he’s doing my bidding.
“That’s more like it,” I say with a victorious smile and stand up from my seat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to fit in a workout. Feel free to see yourselves out.”
“But we haven’t gone over—” Liza starts to say, but I quickly cut her off.
“Surely, we need something to discuss for next week.”
“God, you’re impossible.” Liza sighs. “Tell me you’ve at least read the scripts I sent you.”
“I have, and out of ten damn scripts, there’s only one that’s a possibility,” I answer swiftly. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if you got a little pickier with the scripts you choose to send me?”
She ignores my question completely. “Which one did you like?”
“I’ll tell you next week,” I deflect, and then I head out of the kitchen, down the hall, and far away from the Hollywood peanut gallery in my kitchen.
But just before I step into the workout room at the back of the house, a lingering shred of Blake’s voice carries down the hall. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Amy, but I have a feeling you’re going to have your publicist work cut out for you with this movie.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time Andrew has gotten involved with a costar,” she responds without hesitation.
Me getting involved with Birdie Harris? Fuck, I wouldn’t have any complaints about that.
Luca might, but shit, I’ve dealt with him before. Just the thought of her tight little body and hot-as-hell attitude wrapped around me while we fuck is enough to make me feel like risking Luca’s wrath wouldn’t be so bad. All he said was to be nice. And it goes without saying that my cock is the utmost gentleman—always putting a woman’s pleasure before his own.
I smirk to myself and head inside the large room, hopping on the treadmill first to warm up my muscles.
A few minutes into my warm-up, I snag my cell phone out of the cupholder of the treadmill, ignore the numerous missed calls and text notifications and emails, and shoot off a quick message to the one person who can help give me the lay of Birdie land.
Obviously, I’ll need to keep my motives to myself, but that’s easy enough.
Me: You owe me dinner, fucker. Free this weekend?
His response chimes in a minute later.
Luca: I don’t owe you shit, but I can probably swing dinner Saturday.
Per-fucking-fection.
Me: Meet me at Tao around 8.
I switch up the speed on the treadmill, moving out of warm-up mode to a full-on run, and sprint like Birdie Harris is a couple miles away, waiting with her ass in the air at the other end.
Birdie
If Vegas were going to make a show about our lives, they’d call it Cirque du So-Hey-This-Is-Hollywood.
One good thing about moving to LA temporarily while filming Grass Roots is that Billie and I have finally managed to carve out some sisterly time. After years of busy schedules and quick visits, it feels like a gift to be around to spend this most special period in her life together.
She’s pregnant! With my little niece or nephew! And she’s engaged to one of our biggest childhood crushes.
When we were little girls, giggling about guys and life and babies one day, I don’t think either one of us had this in mind.
My sister peruses the racks of dresses, and I glance over my shoulder and toward the front doors of Grace, the cute boutique bridal shop on Melrose, and spot her two burly security