fairly spat. “Artisan is trying to fuck us on the fucking deal. Again.”
“Fine, I’ll be right in. Clark, this is our new intern, Anna Percy. Anna, this is Clark. She—”
“Fucking Artisan,” the man interrupted her. “One fucking hit and they think they’re Jack Warner. It’s now or never, Margaret.” He turned around, slamming the door on his way out.
“Manners aren’t his long suit,” Margaret said wryly. “But he’s got a client list a mile long.” She stood. “Sorry to cut this short.”
Anna rose, too. “Thanks for your time. I’m looking forward to working here.”
“Lovely.” She held the door open for Anna. “Be sure to ask Tamara at the desk to validate you. I’ll be in touch.”
Margaret shook Anna’s hand. Anna didn’t understand that last part about Tamara and validating, so she just found her way back to the elevators to the ground floor. When the doors opened, she was surprised to see Adam standing by the guard’s desk, reading the sports section of the
Los Angeles Times
.
“Hi,” he said. “Jerry’s was closed—some movie of the week is shooting there. So I came back. I didn’t want you to get lost.”
Anna smiled. “That was considerate.”
“Didn’t take long,” he said, folding the newspaper and putting it under his arm.
“No, but it looks like it’s going to be great.” They walked to the elevator that serviced the parking garage. “I get to take Brock Franklin to a party on Sunday.”
“Should I know who he is?”
“No, not really. He wrote a hit play about crass and callow Upper East Side rich kids and got a million-dollar deal from it, evidently.” Anna chuckled. “Not that he needs another million dollars.”
“How would you know?”
“My sister and I went to school with him. You’ve heard of the Franklin Mint? Same family.”
“Well, that’s convenient. What else?”
The elevator came and they stepped into it.
“I met one of Margaret’s partners,” Anna went on. “Well,
met
is the wrong word. We were in the same room briefly, though he never looked at me. And his favorite word was
fuck
. Clark something or other, I think his name was. Then someone named Tamara was supposed to validate me, whatever that means.”
The elevator door opened onto the parking level. “Whoa, back up one,” Adam suggested. “Clark Sheppard?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Anna found her parking ticket and gave it to the valet. He told her it was ten dollars, and she paid for her parking. “I think so.”
“Blond hair, deep tan, on the tall side?”
“Yes,” Anna said. “Why?”
“Sheppard,” Adam repeated. “Doesn’t that last name ring a bell?”
She had to think for a moment. And then, suddenly, she knew.
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh yeah. He’s Cammie’s father.”
The attendant brought Anna’s car around and they got in. “Well, hopefully I’ll never have to work for him specifically,” Anna said.
“From what I hear,
everyone
works for him. He’s that kind of guy.”
“I guess I’ll find out,” Anna said. “What’s that part about getting validated by Tamara?”
“It’s the part about saving yourself ten bucks. Tamara is probably the receptionist. Validate means to stamp your parking ticket so that you park for free.”
“Phew. I was concerned it meant validate my self-worth,” Anna added wryly.
Adam cranked Coldplay back up as Anna headed back to Wilshire Boulevard. So Cammie’s father was one of the partners in the agency where she’d be interning. It got her thinking about his daughter and her alleged interest in a friendship with Susan.
“Adam, do you mind if we make a stop at the Beverly Hills Hotel? On our way back?”
“I don’t suppose you’re inviting me to take a room and ravish you.”
“A bit premature.”
“Hey, a guy can dream.”
“My sister is staying there. I just want to stop in and say hi.”
“Yeah, sure,” Adam said easily, but there was a question in his eyes.
“It’s
“Fine, I’ll be right in. Clark, this is our new intern, Anna Percy. Anna, this is Clark. She—”
“Fucking Artisan,” the man interrupted her. “One fucking hit and they think they’re Jack Warner. It’s now or never, Margaret.” He turned around, slamming the door on his way out.
“Manners aren’t his long suit,” Margaret said wryly. “But he’s got a client list a mile long.” She stood. “Sorry to cut this short.”
Anna rose, too. “Thanks for your time. I’m looking forward to working here.”
“Lovely.” She held the door open for Anna. “Be sure to ask Tamara at the desk to validate you. I’ll be in touch.”
Margaret shook Anna’s hand. Anna didn’t understand that last part about Tamara and validating, so she just found her way back to the elevators to the ground floor. When the doors opened, she was surprised to see Adam standing by the guard’s desk, reading the sports section of the
Los Angeles Times
.
“Hi,” he said. “Jerry’s was closed—some movie of the week is shooting there. So I came back. I didn’t want you to get lost.”
Anna smiled. “That was considerate.”
“Didn’t take long,” he said, folding the newspaper and putting it under his arm.
“No, but it looks like it’s going to be great.” They walked to the elevator that serviced the parking garage. “I get to take Brock Franklin to a party on Sunday.”
“Should I know who he is?”
“No, not really. He wrote a hit play about crass and callow Upper East Side rich kids and got a million-dollar deal from it, evidently.” Anna chuckled. “Not that he needs another million dollars.”
“How would you know?”
“My sister and I went to school with him. You’ve heard of the Franklin Mint? Same family.”
“Well, that’s convenient. What else?”
The elevator came and they stepped into it.
“I met one of Margaret’s partners,” Anna went on. “Well,
met
is the wrong word. We were in the same room briefly, though he never looked at me. And his favorite word was
fuck
. Clark something or other, I think his name was. Then someone named Tamara was supposed to validate me, whatever that means.”
The elevator door opened onto the parking level. “Whoa, back up one,” Adam suggested. “Clark Sheppard?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Anna found her parking ticket and gave it to the valet. He told her it was ten dollars, and she paid for her parking. “I think so.”
“Blond hair, deep tan, on the tall side?”
“Yes,” Anna said. “Why?”
“Sheppard,” Adam repeated. “Doesn’t that last name ring a bell?”
She had to think for a moment. And then, suddenly, she knew.
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh yeah. He’s Cammie’s father.”
The attendant brought Anna’s car around and they got in. “Well, hopefully I’ll never have to work for him specifically,” Anna said.
“From what I hear,
everyone
works for him. He’s that kind of guy.”
“I guess I’ll find out,” Anna said. “What’s that part about getting validated by Tamara?”
“It’s the part about saving yourself ten bucks. Tamara is probably the receptionist. Validate means to stamp your parking ticket so that you park for free.”
“Phew. I was concerned it meant validate my self-worth,” Anna added wryly.
Adam cranked Coldplay back up as Anna headed back to Wilshire Boulevard. So Cammie’s father was one of the partners in the agency where she’d be interning. It got her thinking about his daughter and her alleged interest in a friendship with Susan.
“Adam, do you mind if we make a stop at the Beverly Hills Hotel? On our way back?”
“I don’t suppose you’re inviting me to take a room and ravish you.”
“A bit premature.”
“Hey, a guy can dream.”
“My sister is staying there. I just want to stop in and say hi.”
“Yeah, sure,” Adam said easily, but there was a question in his eyes.
“It’s
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