Jeopardy in High Heels (High Heels #12) - Gemma Halliday Page 0,20

prop trailer.

"Nice outfit," I said, listening to her squeak as she walked.

"I'm roasting. I need to peel this thing off," Dana said.

"Sounds like it could take a while. It looks pretty tight."

"You're telling me! I had to baby powder my thighs just to get into this thing. I swear if I gain a pound it won't fit."

"Luckily you'll probably sweat it right off the next day," I said, looking on the bright side.

She chuckled. "Gimme ten minutes," she said, disappearing into the trailer.

A few minutes later she emerged wearing street clothes—white shorts, a baby blue tank top, and a pair of espadrilles on her feet. "Ready?" she asked, slinging a tote bag onto her shoulder.

I nodded. "So how well do you know Rupert Blick?" I asked as she led the way toward the Bob Hope building.

She shook her head as she pulled a water bottle from her bag. "Not well at all, to be honest. I mean, everyone on the lot knows his name, but I think he's only been by the set once. To wish everyone good luck when we started filming."

"You think he'll talk to us?"

Dana shrugged. "Maybe?"

We opened the double glass doors of the executive's building to a large lobby decorated tastefully but simply with muted colors of grey and purple. One wall consisted of three television sets that were all currently tuned in to today's episode of All My Husbands. There was a closeup of Angela arguing with a blonde in a nurse's outfit.

I turned away from the TVs to find a woman with short salt and pepper colored hair seated behind the front receptionist counter, a headset on. She gave Dana a perfunctory smile.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you?"

"I'm Dana Dashel," my friend offered. "I'm shooting the Charlotte's Angels pilot in studio thirty-three."

The woman maintained her pleasant smile, though no sign of recognition crossed her features.

"I was hoping to speak to Mr. Blick?" Dana went on.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

"Uh, no."

"One moment please while I call up to his office," the woman said, pushing a couple of buttons on her computer before she quietly spoke into her headset mic. After a brief conversation she turned back to face us. "I'm so sorry, but Mr. Blick's assistant says he's unavailable this afternoon."

"All afternoon?" I pressed.

The woman nodded. "I'm sorry, but he's had a lot going on today. Damage control." She licked her lips. "You might have heard about Doggy Z."

Dana and I both nodded, trying to look appropriately solemn. "I was so sorry to hear of his passing," Dana said.

"Yes, well, Mr. Blick's been rather busy fending off the media. We all have, truth be told."

"Have you had a lot of press calling?" I asked, thinking of Tina.

She paused as if not sure how much to share. But considering we were industry people—or at least Dana was—she nodded. "We have. They've been relentless. As if we have any more details than they do about what happened." She shook her head. "So tragic."

"Do you know when Mr. Blick might be available?" Dana asked.

The woman pulled her pleasant smile back out. "No, I'm sorry, I don't. Is there a message you'd like to leave for him?"

"Yes," Dana said. "If he could call me at his convenience, that would be wonderful." She recited her phone number.

The receptionist nodded, typing it in on her keyboard. "And may I tell him what this is regarding?"

Dana shot me a look. "Uh, I have a few concerns about the pilot that I'd like to discuss."

The woman typed it out, seemingly disinterested in the details. Good for us, since there weren't any. "I'll make sure he gets your message, Ms. Dashel."

"Thanks," Dana told her as we turned to go.

We pushed outside into the sunshine again, and I immediately shielded my eyes from the bright afternoon glare off the white stucco buildings.

"So what are you going to tell Tina?" Dana asked as we backtracked through the lot toward the parking structure.

I shook my head. "I don't know. I suppose I could still float her the idea that Rupert Blick had a beef with Dog, but it would have been nice to have something a little more concrete to shove her in that direction."

Dana shot me a grin. "You just like the idea of shoving Tina, don't you?"

I laughed. "I don't hate it."

We were almost to the parking structure when I spotted a pink Jaguar pull into a reserved spot up front. An older woman got out of the car, and as she