Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,32

assistant. Didn’t even check out his ass as he turned and left the kitchen. Returned to packing Nicole’s bag and avoided Chanel’s critical gaze.

For a good little honest assistant who hadn’t lied, I felt filthy.

I was in Nicole’s trailer when I heard her scream. The sound faint, it came from outside and I locked my phone, almost grateful for the interruption. I had just started playing Vic’s voicemail, one left the night before, his words slurring but intentions clear. He loved me, he wanted me, would I please forgive him … the same message I had heard ten times before. The same message, just like the others, that I saved, too weak to hit the delete button. I’d already listened to it four times, my behavior bordering on pathetic. I stuffed the phone in my pocket and swung open the door. Jogging down the steps, I followed the sounds of a Nicole Brantley hissy fit, rounding a set stage and almost running into the drama.

Set 5. Lights were on, cameras up, and bodies were gathering, every person within a hundred feet gathered around like it was free queso day. Nicole was screaming at Joey, her arms waving, fingers pointing, and he was laughing, a combination that lit her anger on fire. Hannah passed me a bottled water and giggled. “She flubbed a line,” she whispered. “Joey made fun of her. It didn’t go over well.” I took the water and realized the opportunity I was missing. Grabbing for my phone, I recorded the second half of the fight. Then Paulo waded in, avoiding the stabby motions Nicole was making with her finger, and stopped the drama. I ended the recording, and stuck my cell back in my pocket.

“Planning to sell that?” Hannah whispered in my ear, giving me a whiff of her granola breath.

“No!” I hissed.

“The gossip mags will pay bank for that shit.” She nodded toward my pocket. “Just don’t let anyone see you. You’ll be banned from set quicker than it takes Joey to jack off.”

I made a disgusted face and she laughed, pushing on my shoulder. “Lighten up. Come over to Makeup with me. I need to introduce you to the new girl there.”

I let her pull me through the set, sending a final glance back at Nicole, who was getting a shoulder massage from Paulo. The woman needed to be careful. I hadn’t heard any whispers yet of an affair, but someone would catch on. That was all she needed, for everyone to realize it wasn’t Nicole’s bank account that landed her this role but something else.

In my pocket, my phone burned hot against my butt. Hannah had a good point, one I hadn’t thought of. Once I used the video, I needed to delete it.

I texted the video to Clarke. It seemed like a good idea. The video protected Nicole while putting to rest any of Clarke’s concerns about an affair between her and Joey. A brilliant move on my part, if I could say so myself.

Clarke texted right back.

Thx. Sorry I was paranoid.

A harmless text, one he’d probably sent during a meeting, his attention half on the words as he nodded in response to something an associate said. I opened the text in a corner of Makeup, sitting Indian-style against a wall as I listened to Hannah barter Joey memorabilia for free makeup.

It’s okay. I understand. I typed the reply, then locked my phone and stuck it in my pocket. I understood, all right. More than he knew, not that he cared about my baggage. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. Wondered how late today’s schedule would go. The prior night, we’d been on set until eleven, my feet physically aching by the time Dante dropped me off at home. And our mornings had been starting at 6 a.m. There weren’t enough lattes in the city to make me a morning person. I started to doze against the wall when my phone buzzed again.

You just made my day. This has been haunting me.

I typed back. No problem. I thought of u when they started yelling. It’s not really her fault. Joey’s been an ass.

Well … she can be a diva. Thanks for putting up w/ her. How’s ur week going?

I smiled. Wondered how much to share. It’s good. Exciting. I like being on set. Are u going to come by?

I stared at my words, the dots indicating his response pending. Why had I asked that? It was a horrible idea to