Page 1 of Hot For Her Assistant

CHAPTER 1

Natalie

The minute my phone rings on my way into the office, a foul mood settles over me. It's rare to get a call at seven in the morning for anything good. A quick glance at the screen shows one of my most successful actresses who's on set for a national commercial.

Shit.

"Chanel my bell," I answer in the most chipper tone I can muster. "What's wrong?"

"Nattie," she huffs with a dramatic pause. "You sent Tyler to meet me on set this morning."

"Yes. Is he late?"

Tyler's one of my management assistants. He's a bit young at 23, but the talent I manage prefers youth to my 40 years of life and 20 years of experience in the entertainment management industry. Chanel Bell is a rising star who has me to thank for landing her auditions for the roles that make her a household name. So when she calls me before I even get behind my desk, it raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

"He's not late. I sent him away." Chanel's tone is low as she complains. "He's not being the dutiful assistant I'm accustomed to having. Where did you get this guy?"

"He's new to Radiant Talent Management. I apologize that he's not working for you. Give me a half hour to get a hold of my other management assistant. Worst case scenario, Anderson will be on set with you by ten at the latest."

"That's fine. Just make sure he brings my goodies to set. Thanks tons. Smooch, smooch." Chanel ends the call without giving me a chance to reply.

After taking a deep breath, I get on the phone with Anderson. He's too cocky for my own liking, but the ladies I manage love him. It only takes a few minutes to open up my small commercial space masquerading as a talent agency, sandwiched between a florist and a bank.

It's a quiet street, reminiscent of all the Main Streets in Little Town, America. However, this town is about 45 minutes outside of New York City where I can get my biggest stars to audition and land roles that pay me a percentage. By the time I settle behind my desk, Tyler Robert strolls in with anger etching across his face and it's barely 8 a.m.

The way his black hair falls around his blue eyes makes him delightful to look at. However, my irritation as the owner of this agency trumps whatever he's feeling and he's not going to simply start this day like nothing's wrong with his behavior.

"Tyler, I need to see you," I tell him. The phrase is stupid when I think about it since there aren't any walls or doors in this place. It's an open office with three desks, a closet, and a bathroom. There's a small bench near the large glass window where people wait to be seen and a small desk where I keep coffee and pastries.

Tyler grunts as he sits down behind his desk and spins around to face me. Asshole.

"Good morning, Miss Logan. What can possibly be wrong, now?" He sighs with an attitude.

"Listen, I don't know who rubbed you wrong this morning, but you were supposed to be assisting Chanel on set at that commercial. You know the shoot is scheduled to go for at least 14 hours. She can't simply be there without an assistant, orwithan assistant that makes her job difficult."

"Before you hop on me about some shit I'm not doing, don't you care why she told me to leave?"

"Not particularly." I don't care. The minutiae of his job is the exact reason I hired him. I don't focus on those small details. I focus on getting my talent work.

"She wanted drugs," he says.

I blink a few times, waiting for more, but when he doesn't speak, I ask him, "And what's the problem, Tyler?"

"The problem is I didn't feel like getting arrested, harassed, or jumped because I had to scour the roughest neighborhoods in New York City looking to score some D-list actress coke."

"Well, why didn't you call me or Anderson before you told her you couldn't get something done? Did you even try?"

He chuckles, running his fingers through his hair with his eyes glancing at the ground before shifting back at me. "Are you fucking kidding me? You condone this kind of behavior?"

"Careful, Tyler, your age is showing. The older you get, the more you need to get through the day. If one of our best clients needs a little bump, that's why you're there. She cannot leave the set to go searching for whatever she needs. Why the hell do you think I hired you?"

"I'm not some gopher?—"

"Wrong," I interrupt him. "You're the gopher, the grunt, the sex on a stick that keeps these over-praised and over-paid starlets in line. So the next time Chanel or any one of my clients tells you to go fetch, you go fetch. You bring back coke and a smile. If she wants you on your knees kissing her feet, you'd better get so low you know what color toe polish she has on."

"Get the fuck out of here. There's no way in hell you expect a man?—"

I cut him off again. "There you go thinking again, Tyler. You believe that my expectations are gender-based. They're not. I expect you to grovel and pay your dues like every other asshole in this industry. You don't get a pass to skip the line of grunt work because you swing a dick between your legs."

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