not trouble. Typing illegible contracts is trouble. Dodging calls from strung-out, two-bit comics who can’t get booked for free into a retirement home is trouble. Putting together a small buffet for a few hungry friends of yours is no trouble at all.”
The doorbell chimed. “I’ll get it,” she said, curious who would show up at this weekly card game. Rhett had set up the table for six players but he said sometimes a few more came. It depended upon who was working or who might be out of town, and in this case, it was getting close to the holidays.
Cassie opened the door to two men. One she had seen on the cover of GQ and in Ralph Lauren ads for several years. The bespectacled other man looked like a serious version of Chris Rock.
“Come on in, guys. I assume you’re here for the game. I’m Cassie.”
“Are you new cook?” asked the Chris lookalike. “Please tell me it’s not pizza again. I live on that four other days a week since Rhonda can’t cook. Please tell me Consuelo’s brought the tribe back.”
“No pizza, no Consuelo, but I think you’ll be happy.” Cassie led them back to the game room. The doorbell rang again, so she circled back around to answer it.
This time she knew two of the three men standing there. "Welcome to Casa Corrigan, gentleman. You know where the game is.”
She ushered in a tall, muscular actor with the number one crime drama on the networks and a tall, lanky redhead who was a rising new comic she and Jolene had watched for two years at various clubs.
As they moved inside the foyer, Cassie said, “Loved you on Kimmel last week, Zak.”
He turned, a smile breaking out across his face. “Hey, thanks. You new?”
“Yeah. I’m Cassie, Rhett’s assistant.”
“You look a little familiar.”
“I room with Jolene Farrell. She drags me to a lot of the comedy clubs, checking out the competition. Maybe you’ve seen me there.”
“Yeah, I know Jo. So you’re working for Hotshot now? Hey, if things work like I hope and this HBO special comes through, I think I’ll need to hire an assistant. You interested?”
Cassie laughed. “You don’t even know me and you’re trying to steal me away from Rhett?”
“Hey, if Hotshot thinks you’re good enough for him, you’d be good enough for me.”
“Let’s see if HBO comes through first, Zak. Then we’ll talk salary. You might not be able to afford me.”
The comedian laughed. “You’re right about that. I just got my back rent paid off. On Kimmel one night and still trying to find two coins buried in the couch to rub together the next day.”
“I can relate.”
Cassie walked with Zak Mercury to Rhett’s game room. Loud applause greeted her, causing her to blush to her roots.
The Lauren model raised his beer bottle. “Here’s to Cassie, queen of our hearts.”
The men gathered all toasted her.
Zak looked at the spread along the long countertop. “You cook, too? I am so gonna hire you away from Hotshot.”
“Come on, guys. I threw together some subs, a seven-layer dip, and baked some cookies. You act like you’ve never seen food before.”
“In this house, it’s feast or famine. Maria’s either filling us with enchiladas or we’re eating crumbs off the floor,” Breck said.
“Or fighting over the last piece of greasy pizza,” Ken Cameron added. Cassie thought he looked even more handsome in person than he did on TV each week.
Rhett touched her elbow. “Cassie, I’d like to introduce everyone. This is Darin Hart. We modeled together. Chris Whittaker moved here in third grade, and he and Breck and I were like the Three Musketeers.”
Cassie smiled at the Chris Rock ringer, glad she could just think of him as Chris.
“That’s Ken Cameron of Crime Time fame and Leo Parker, my trainer. He promises we’re both off the clock on poker nights and we can eat whatever we want.”
“Cassie already knows me, Hotshot. She actually recognized me.”
“Oh, yeah. Zak Mercury.”
“Of Kimmel fame,” Zak interjected. “She saw me there and in person with her roommate.”
Breck asked, “So you like the comedy clubs, Cassie?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. My roommate, Jolene, is an aspiring comic. I catch her act and also check out the competition with her.”
“Jolene’s good,” Zak said. “As raw as they come, in that Amy Schumer unfiltered way.”
“You haven’t heard raw until I’ve asked for her share of this month’s rent,” Cassie quipped. “They haven’t come up with a rating that covers Jolene’s mouth when the topic’s money and how much she owes.”