Page 3 of Hot For Her Assistant

"User or buyer?"

"Both," he replies with a side eye as if this is regular conversation. "Listen, man, I don't know how you get through your day, but working for Natalie as long as I have, there's no way you're doing this sober."

"That's the only way I've been doing it."

"Ouch," he replies. "No one should fuck with Natalie or any of her clients sober. I seriously don't know how you lasted this long. If it really bothers you to get shit for clients, you can always do what I do."

"What's that?"

"I lace their shit." He shrugs with soft laughter.

"What?"

"I … lace … their … drugs," he repeats slower as if I can't comprehend. The fact is, I'm shocked anyone would say it out loud. He huffs out a breath. "Look, if you're going to judgea motherfucker for making his job easier, maybe this isn't the industry for you."

"Wait a minute. Forget about me not fitting into this industry mold for a second and tell me how lacing someone else's shit makes your job easier."

"Alright, I'll spell it out for you in case you land a gig with another agency before Natalie gets on her shit to blackball you. Or shit, if you fuck around and start your own agency. Take Chanel. I just came from seeing Rodney and on my way to set, I'll stop to see my guy, Pete. I'll get some ex and some shrooms from him. I take that concoction and grind it up with the coke. Pink elephant coke will have Chanel hallucinating."

"Won't that fuck up her commercial shoot?"

Anderson shrugs. "That's not my fucking problem, is it? She shouldn't take drugs from strange men. I'm a strange man. She doesn't know me. She only knows that I work for her agent. If she's stupid enough to do hard drugs on set, then fuck her. That's not my problem. My goal is to make her happy. She's going to be so happy she'll forget she's on planet Earth."

"That's insane, man." I laugh.

"Not as insane as trying to find a job in this market right now. Good luck, man. Oh, and if you do decide to start your own agency, give me a call. I'll roll some of my contacts over to wherever you go if you hire me as a full agent rep."

I nod and extend my hand, which he shakes. "You got it. Thanks for the contacts, too."

"Drugs will be needed while you search for a new job. Take it easy. And don't worry. A good-looking guy like you is bound to get something quick. Just talk loud and brag about shit." Anderson walks away from me, winking with a pep in his step like he's not about to poison famed actress, Chanel Bell.

Our conversation stays with me for the rest of the day. As I sit home in my studio apartment wondering how many weeks Ican go without calling my brother for a loan or something. Shit. I can't believe that bitch fired me.

I find myself flipping through apps and channels looking for some way to entertain myself while thinking of what the fuck I’m going to do next. That's when it hits me. Anderson said I should look into starting my own agency. One of Natalie's clients is a retired basketball player. I can probably snag him away from her since she doesn't know the first thing about landing him decent work.

The first problem I run into is when I scroll through my phone looking for his contact information to see I don't have it stored. It's on the tablet that I normally keep on my desk at the office. There's a ton of contacts and industry information on that tablet. If I can grab that, I'll be set and won't have to search for a job. I can cherry-pick clients that I know are tired of Natalie's poor management.

Determined to end this day better than it started, I glance at my phone to see it's after nine. No one should be in the office and the bulk of the retail stores are closed for the night. I can pop into Radiant, grab the tablet, and skip down to the bar down the street to enjoy my newfound success.

It doesn't take long to get back to Main Street where I stand on the corner near a bar to not seem out of place. I should go in and grab a drink. Or even better, text Rodney to get me something that will make me so high, I'll break into the office like I'm floating on a cloud.

Instead of going to the bar, I stick to my plan and make my way toward the closed office of Radiant Talent Management. There's no one inside and the place is as dark as the rest of the businesses on the street. After taking several deep breaths to psych myself up, I pull out my keys and thankfully, the lock turns.

I rush inside, hurrying to disarm the security system. The screeching alarm stops once I put in the security code that hasn't been changed yet. Another sigh of relief escapes my lips. I immediately move to my desk, unlock the drawers, and scramble to get the tablet I'm searching for.

I don't see it and wonder where it could be.

I turn around to see the much larger desk behind me where Natalie typically sits in judgment over me and Anderson. My feet move quickly to circle her desk where every drawer is locked.

"Fuck," I snarl as I try every key I can find, using the flashlight off my phone to look around. None of my keys work for the drawers. I refuse to leave here empty-handed. If this bitch thinks she can just let me go over not bending over for a stuck-up actress looking to make me some fall guy for her drug habit, she's dead wrong.

The gleam of a letter opener catches the light off my phone, giving me the idea to use it like a crowbar. It bends slightly when I jam it into the space between the drawer and the desk. A few jabs and pulls allow me to break them open.

There's a treasure trove of shit I can use to get back on my feet. The first thing I take is my tablet. Since I have it open, I might as well take my time to go through everything else. There are documents, files, and contact information for production studios, casting directors, and showrunners.

The sound of the door opening steals my attention. It's the last person I expect to see, and she's pissed.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Tyler?" Natalie shouts with her phone in her hand. "I'm calling the police."

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