Page 3 of Wildest Dreams

“Are you the one staying in the house?” she asks, her voice a few notches higher than normal as she tries to stay calm.

“No, I’m a personal assistant. My boss asked me to pick up the keys for him.”

“Who is your boss?” asks Patsy, completely losing all sense of propriety.

“Patsy!” I say, embarrassed as I emerge from my office with the keys. “I apologize,” I say to the stranger in my lobby.

“It’s fine,” Harriett responded, eyeing Patsy. “He’s very private. We would appreciate it if that privacy is respected.”

“Absolutely,” I respond. Patsy nods her head.

I clear my throat. “The key opens both the front and back door. Be sure to tell your boss the back door locks automatically, so he’ll have to have the key to get in from the deck.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“Nope! My business card is in there with the keys in case he needs anything.”

“Thank you. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

With that, she turns and walks out the door.

Patsy looks at me with raised eyebrows. “She was a b.”

“She was doing her job.”

“All she told us is that it’s a man!”

I roll my eyes and go back to my office, ignoring Patsy’s phone calls to everyone she knows, telling them about our brief encounter with the assistant to a mystery celebrity.

PIERRE

Harriett meets me at the Atlanta airport early on Saturday morning. She’s flying back to Los Angeles as I’m arriving in the South. It’s a hot, humid day, especially for May. It’s been years since I filmed a movie in this area — I had forgotten how sticky it is.

“You’ve got to be burning up,” I say, noting her hoodie with jeans and giving her a hug.

“I’m alright,” she says.

“How is the place?” I ask. She had traveled ahead of me to get everything set up.

“It’s, uh…”

“Bad?”

She shakes her head. “The house is very nice. Clean. The back is all windows and it has a great view of the river. It’s just in the middle of nowhere.”

“Fantastic!” I need a break from LA. I need a break from photographers. I need a break from traffic, from the industry, from constant scrutiny, from…well…everything in my life. One of the reasons I agreed to do this movie is because my agent said it’s a rural shoot.

“You think that now. Once you leave Atlanta, there’s basically nothing for three and a half hours. Not even cell service. It’s mostly back roads and farms.”

“As long as the GPS works, I’m golden.”

She hands me the car keys and an envelope. “This has the keys to the house and the owner’s card. She said the back door locks automatically. That’s about it.”

I open the envelope and look at the business card: Abbey Accounting with a little abacus on the side. I put the keys and card in my pocket.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay with you?” Harriett asks. As far as assistants go, she’s the absolute best. In fact, she may be the only true friend I have in LA.

“No, go home to your hot girlfriend. I’m actually kind of looking forward to not talking to anyone until filming begins. Do you happen to know where Marina is staying?”

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