Page 2 of In Her Arms

Holly’s mouth dropped into an “o,” and she gasped, placing one hand, palm up, melodramatically over her forehead. Cameron rolled her eyes again, smiling fondly despite herself.

Deborah appeared at the bar again, phone in hand, with a smile plastered onto her face. Cameron saw the look a mile away, but Holly was the one to point it out.

“Something’s wrong. You have that...face on your face.”

“What face? This is my normal face.”

“No, it isn’t. That’s your crisis mode, everything-is-going-to-hell face you use when you need to ask for help.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Yes,” responded Cameron immediately. “Deb, what’s going on? Is everything alright?”

Deborah took a second to inhale deeply before starting. In the back of her mind, Cameron made a note to make her a second Paloma; she seemed like she needed another stiff drink.

“So, this stays between the three of us...”

The two women nodded furiously, and Cameron was excited at the prospect of getting insider information, even if it was banal.

“I’m presuming I don’t need to explain to either of you who Goldie Richards is.”

The furious nodding turned into furious head-shaking. Of course they knew who Goldie Richards was.Everybodyknew who Goldie Richards was. As one of the world’s best-known actresses, Richards had graced the cover ofVogue Francewhen she was only nineteen years old. She had just won three Emmy awards and was favored to win the Best Supporting Actress award at the following year’s Oscars. You could stop ten different people on the street and ask them to name an actress, and they would all name her, no question. She was everywhere.

“She’s in L.A. filming the next season ofPaperweight. Her assistant just walked off set, and the company doesn't have anybody to replace him. Cam?”

“Yeah?” She hoped her expression remained neutral.

“You have experience doing PA work for me, and you’ve done similar work on top of that, right?”

Cameron nodded.Don’t get too excited.

“If I send your contact details over to the agency, would you be able to take over for the last few weeks of filming? I’ll have a contract written up for you, clear it with the union, and make sure you’re paid fairly. This can happen really, really quickly.”

This would be the opportunity of a lifetime; Cameron knew that. Working on such a high-profile set would give her the chance to network with people in the industry, and the experience would give her a boost for future jobs. It would be intimidating, sure, and she knew the hours would be long, but she would never get a chance like this again. There was only one thing...

“Deb, you already know I’d love to, but I’m gonna have to clear it with Ez first. This place is really picking up, and I can’t just ditch her.”

“Who said my name?” asked Esme, having finally made her way back through the crowd. “Hi, honey! Hi, Deb! How are you two doing?”

The three women hugged and made excited small talk as Cameron cleaned some glasses, waiting for a moment she could slip in. She couldn’t just leave Indigo Lounge, leave Esme knowing she was already overwhelmed. She had an obligation to stay, even if it wasn’t contractual, because it was Esme. Fortunately, the situation seemed to resolve itself.

“Cam, I’m not sure if I’ll be needing you around as much over the next few weeks,” Esme said, turning to face her. “Nora’s been interviewing for bar staff—mixologists,that’s what she’s beencalling them. They’ll be trained over the next while, but I’ll be able to do that. Do you have other stuff you need to work on in the meantime?”

Cameron smiled. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty to do. Deb needs a hand with something.”

“Goldie Richards is in town!” Deborah added excitedly. “They need a new assistant for her on set.”

So much for secrecy.

After her shift,Cameron returned home to her apartment at around 2 a.m., still buzzing with the energy from the Lounge and the excitement of the new job. She wandered aimlessly for a little while, too restless to sleep, rearranging the dishes in her kitchen cupboards and fluffing the pillows on her sofa. Eventually, she sat on the sofa and filled out the form that Deborah had sent to her on her phone. This wasn’t the first time she had done a favor for Deborah like this; she seemed to be the first choice for any of her friends who needed stuff done—running social media accounts, putting together IKEA furniture, arranging flowers. Over time, she had done lots of odd jobs and had become a bit of a Jack-of-all-trades. This wasn’t the most unusual job, but it was absolutely the most high-profile.

Cameron thought, not for the first time, about Goldie Richards. Her iconic, voluminous blonde hair, golden brown eyes, her style dripping with both self-worth and net worth. She wore designer on the red carpet, had been a guest judge at film festivals all over the country, and held an obvious reverence for film as a medium. She carried herself with an air of sweetness, addressing fans and journalists with respect. She had a reputation as one of Hollywood’s best, an absolute master of her craft with a degree from Julliard that she had earned with honors.

How do I know so much about her?Then she remembered her old habit of falling asleep with late-night talk shows playingin the background. Goldie had been a mainstay on talk television for years and always presented herself very well.

Goldie didn’t have the traditional, soft-spoken voice of a movie star. She could be abrasive, her voice shifting between husky and lilting. The tabloids had a field day with her when she was younger, ripping her apart publicly for what they saw as the cardinal sin of having a personality while speaking. It never seemed to bother Goldie, and she had never taken it upon herself to change her voice, at least publicly. Though she had started out as a staple of raunchy comedies, she had expanded her range as she got older and gained more experience. She had talked extensively about not wanting to confine herself, always gracious but firm about wanting to grow beyond her image. The place she had carved for herself in the industry was impressive by any standard.

Cameron swore she wasn’t obsessed, just good at absorbing and retaining information. She was constantly pulling in random bits of trivia, which she could then pull out in conversation to the surprise of her friends. Being generally chilled out didn’t mean she was brain-dead, she would say, and they’d laugh and carry on. She liked beingthere,and being there meant she was paying attention, whether she was saying something or not.

---