Page 29 of Sizzle Reel

I’m sure my face is bright red right now, and honestly, I’d love to grab her paper from the printer and run so far from this building that I end up in the ocean and swim to Japan. Or go back in time and tell the version of myself from ten seconds ago to shutup.

But I’m here in my shoes. I did a white-boy confidence move. Now it’s time to fake the white-boy confidence.

There’s one piece of paper sitting alone in the industrial printer. I’m guessing it’s Valeria’s. Valeria, who still hasn’t spoken, who is driving me to pull my hair out with this—this fucking ability of hers to just not emote while thinking. How does that help her act?

“I think my producer said we filled the P.A. positions, but I’ll check,” Valeria finally says.

Usually anything that isn’t yes isn’t good. But she hasn’t run out of the room yet.

I hand her the piece of paper, unable to hold back a smile. “Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means.”

She finally smiles. “Don’t thank me yet. I made a huge deal about paying all the P.A.s above minimum wage, and everyone’s a stickler for a tight budget, but one of my best friends is an E.P., so…” She winks; I force myself to stay upright. She glances at the paper. “And thank you for this.”

“Yeah, of course.”

The world almost seems stable as Valeria and I walk back to the assistant pod.

That is, until I see Alice standing outside her office, arms crossed. Wyatt’s back at his desk, typing. His eyes are heavy on the screen.

“I’m sorry, Luna, is something more pressing?” Alice asks me. “I forgot I share you with Steven.”

Valeria, looking more like a deer caught in headlights than I think I even do, turns to Wyatt. Wyatt mouths, Talk later, and shoos her out. She mouths something to me before she steps down the stairs, but I can’t make it out. The room has seemingly tilted.

I glance at Alice’s closed office door as the heat falls over my face. “Wyatt’s printer connection was down so I was just—”

“And John’s latte? Have you gotten that?”

I glance at Wyatt’s desk, where a coffee is sitting, still steaming. I pick it up and am halfway to handing it to her when she gives me the deadliest death glare. My muscles freeze.

“He gets a latte from the café. You know this,” Alice says, her voice wavering.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I scurry back to my desk. “I asked Wyatt to get the coffee while I worked on the printing thing. I can get—”

“And why did Steven’s assistant get this? What’re you off doing, huh? Bothering someone else’s clients?” Alice strides across the space between us, stopping two feet from my face. She’s so close, I can see the way her lipstick doesn’t quite follow the curve of her lips, the red in the whites of her eyes. “Steven’s assistant works for Steven. You work for me, and I needed a simple latte for a major client. And you couldn’t even do that.”

My chest is collapsing on me; the room is going fuzzy at the edges. I know I deserve this. (Even though Alice has told me to give John regular coffee before and he didn’t care. He literally doesn’t care about any of this.) But I can’t have Alice this close. Her anger is palpable, turning the air to steam. It’s choking me. This whole fucking place is choking me.

I move to get up.

“I’ll get him his latte right now,” I say.

“No, sit down!” she yells.

My heart stops. Every pair of eyes in the assistant pod looks to me. Not in confusion; not like what happened when Wyatt outed me. They look at me with pity, with self-satisfaction. The Hollywood look of Glad I’m not stupid like her.

I drop into my seat.

“I’ve given you so many chances,” she says, gesturing wildly. “You have no idea. I can’t run with an assistant who can’t keep up. And look, you’re not built for this. But I can’t be your fucking babysitter.”

The tears burn in my eyes before I realize they’re even welling up. It’s like holding water about to spill out of a cup. I’m not sure if I can keep it together. This makeup isn’t waterproof either.

“Alice, I can—”

“I should fire you.”

The moment flows like molasses. A log stuck in a roaring river, stopping everything in its path.

She wants to fire me? After months of catering to her, fulfilling her unreasonable requests, and being the most easygoing assistant on the planet? All because Wyatt got John the wrong coffee? We were on fire this morning. Alice said I was a great assistant last week. Alice said women have to look out for each other in Hollywood. She has a fucking pride decal on her office window because of me. And she still looks indignant. Like I’ve said something that’s shattering her world.

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