His Assistant - Alexa Land Page 0,16
were running even later than we were, that took some of the pressure off.
I flipped open my messenger bag and pulled out a plastic case stuffed with over-the-counter medicines, everything from six different types of painkillers to allergy meds and cold and flu remedies. I shook two ibuprofen tablets into my palm and handed them to Harper, who washed them down with coffee before asking, “Can I have a bottle of water?” I handed him one from my bag. “How about a granola bar?” I produced a gallon-sized zip-top bag with five different varieties. “Do you have any earplugs?”
When I pulled out a box of disposable earplugs, Harper started to laugh. I asked, “What’s so funny?”
“You and that bottomless bag of wonders. Just so you know, you overshot being the greatest personal assistant of all time and landed squarely in type-A-mom-with-a-diaper-bag territory.”
“Since every client I’ve ever worked for has basically been an overgrown toddler, that’s pretty apt.”
“Except for me, right?”
I shot him a look and asked, “What do you think?”
He flashed me a smile. “I love the fact that you don’t feel you have to sugarcoat anything with me.”
“Oh, believe me, normally I’d be sugarcoating the hell out of everything I said to you. But since I’m planning to quit the second we land in California tomorrow, I seem to have zero fucks left to give.”
He exclaimed, “You can’t quit! Why would you even suggest such a thing?”
I lowered my voice, even though the privacy window was up between us and the driver. “Because of what happened last night.”
“Last night, two consenting adults enjoyed the hell out of each other,” he said. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Plenty, since one of them signs the other’s paycheck.”
“What difference does that make?”
I frowned and asked, “Do I really have to explain this to you?”
After a moment, he conceded, “Okay, I can see why that might make things a little awkward, but I have a solution. From now on, I’ll fire you right before we fuck, and then I’ll rehire you afterwards.” He was joking, but I could tell part of him actually thought that was a good idea.
“We’re not going to have sex again, Harper.”
“Of course we are.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“This.” He slid his hand around the back of my neck and planted another earth-shattering kiss on me. As my cock swelled and my heart started pounding, I threw myself at him and returned the kiss like I needed it to live. When I finally pulled back to catch my breath, I realized I was straddling his lap, and his hands were cupping my ass. He sounded slightly breathless when he said, “You want this as much as I do, Phee. For once in your life, don’t overthink everything. Just let yourself have a good time.”
I scrambled off his lap and took a deep breath. As much as I wanted to take offense at that bit about overthinking, he was right. That was exactly what I did, all the time.
It startled me when the door to our right opened, and I looked around. We’d arrived at the studio, and the driver was holding the door for us. Harper slid out of the backseat with the garment bag, and I quickly repacked my messenger bag and followed him.
The schmoozing began the moment we set foot inside the building. I took the garment bag from Harper as he shook hands with the show’s producer and chatted with her. Meanwhile, an assistant issued me a pass to wear around my neck, then directed me to Harper’s assigned dressing room.
It turned out to be fairly large, at least as far as dressing rooms went, with a couch and chairs, a makeup station with a large mirror, and a table that held fresh flowers, a gift basket, and an array of snacks. I checked and confirmed that the dorm-size refrigerator was filled with Harper’s beverages of choice.
Most stars had a clause in their contracts that specified what they wanted waiting for them on set, whenever they agreed to do a show or make a public appearance. Some of the requests were absolutely ridiculous. I knew of one musician who claimed to only like green M&Ms and required a huge bowl of them in his dressing room before each of his gigs. That meant some poor assistant would have to go through several bags of candies and pick out all the green ones, just because some asshole found it funny. Stars like that were on a power trip, plain