Page 23 of Love on the Byline

Only, as she approached the stage where Bran was shooting,she realized her first mistake. Okay, maybe her second mistake. Her first hadlikely been accepting this assignment.

The scope of this production was massive. One moment, shewas walking by thirty-foot palm trees, and the next she was in the back alleyof some gritty, urban city. She skirted the perimeter until she saw an enormouscanopy perched over a line of tables that were covered in food. Next to them,coolers filled with bottles and cans of every size and shape were perched onstands.

On cue, her stomach made its presence known, and Blakewondered if she’d be able to snag a muffin or something without anyonenoticing. She made a bee line for the food and had just spied a promising plateof nut-covered rolls glistening with caramel when a figure stepped into herpath.

“Take this and get it stitched up,” the woman said as sheshoved a piece of fabric into Blake’s personal space.

“Excuse me?” She took a reflexive step back.

The woman, about Blake’s height of five-nine, was curvy. Herpale skin reddened by either the sun or her state of apoplexy. In her righthand, she held onto a forearm crutch. In her left was the garment. She gaveBlake a confused look, clearly annoyed. “Wardrobe needs to get this mendedbefore we shoot the next scene. Fucking Cody can’t seem to follow directions.Keeps tearing the wrong side.”

“Uh, I’m actually looking for him. Mr. Cody.”

“Look, you know the rules. Don’t hassle the cast. What, areyou new?” The woman’s head dropped back as she let out an exhausted sigh.“Christ, I can’t deal with this today.”

She leveled Blake with a look that would have her witheringlike a dying vine if she’d been under her authority. The woman held up hertablet.

“Name?”

“Uh, I’m Blake Dillon. I—”

“I don’t see your name on the crew sheet.” She narrowed hereyes at her. “What department are you with?”

“None, actually. I’m with the L.A. Gazette.” She pulled outher press credentials, which she rarely had to use and was grateful to haveremembered to grab this morning.

The woman’s eyes went wide. “Shit. I’m sorry.” She tuckedthe torn garment under her right arm. “Tami Townsend, production assistant. Ithought you were… Never mind, you’re looking for Cody? Is he expecting you?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You’ll probably need to see his publicist. C’mon, I’ll takeyou to her. Name’s Noelia Mokeyane.”

She moved to keep up as Tami led her toward a line oftrailers just outside the door on the opposite side of the massive sound stage.Blake squinted as they emerged from the relative darkness and back into thebright sunlight.

“Over there, by that two banger.” She pointed at a largetrailer with two doors. “The stern looking lady in the turquoise shirt.”

She thanked Tami and weaved her way past whizzing golf cartsand scrambling crew, over to where Bran’s publicist paced in a small circle, aphone pressed to her ear.

The cream-colored, linen jumpsuit would have been breezy andcasual on anyone else. Crisp on the edges, with not a wrinkle in sight, thiswoman wore it like armor. Blake had heard stories about PR people in Hollywood,how formidable and ruthless they could be. Some had horrible reputations,spoken about in hushed voices, and referred to only by their surnames. Novak,Clarkson, Windham.

She hadn’t heard of Noelia Mokeyane and didn’t know what toexpect.

“Would you trust me? This will work,” the woman said to theperson on the other end.

Blake stopped a few feet away and waited, in an attempt togive Ms. Mokeyane as much privacy as she could while letting her know she wasbeing observed.

She took in the scene surrounding her, a buzzing hive of activitythe likes of which she’d rarely seen outside of a newsroom on deadline.Everywhere she looked, people rushed about. Some were in costume, and othersobviously crew. Blake hadn’t a clue what they were even shooting. Jesus, somereporter she was. She reached into her bag to grab her phone for a quicksearch.

“Ms. Dillon?” She looked up to find Noelia Mokeyane staringat her expectantly.

She shouldered her bag and stuck out her hand. “Yes. Blakeis fine.”

The woman’s gaze quickly swept over her but then she smiledand accepted the handshake. “Nice to meet you, Blake. You can call me Noelia.”She gave her another quick once-over. “You’re a lot younger than I expected.”

“I could say the same.”

Noelia’s smile lifted only one corner of her mouth. Shenodded. “My family has been in this town a long time.”

“Started early?”

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