the press you can get. Good press. Not no-show, skirt-wearing, rumor-mongering press that’s about to bump you off the radar.”
Garrett stared at her a moment, and then said, “It’s a kilt, not a skirt.”
I bit my lip, dying to laugh.
“I can arrange a date with another star. There’s a premiere this weekend you can go to. You can wear pants.” She waved a dismissive hand at me. “No offense, but being seen around town with a reality star drags you in the wrong direction.”
“I have plans this weekend,” Garrett said.
His agent sighed. “Does it involve you wearing a kilt?”
“Aye.”
“Garrett, if you won’t take my advice, I’m not sure how this is going to work out.” Her phone beeped and she glanced down at the screen. “I can’t do this now. I have other clients too. I can only spend so much time helping you.” She dialed something on her screen, and walked off with her phone to her ear. “I’m at the studio.”
I felt oddly pleased. “Did she just call me a reality star?”
“She meant it as an insult.”
I grinned. “I know.”
Max joined us next. Wearing a v-neck T-shirt and black pants, he looked the part of karate action hero. A large manila envelope labeled Property of the Art Department swung from his hand. He thumped the edge of the thick envelope against the table.
I took a drink of my water. “ Scoop Out’s PA, Hannah, couriers envelopes like that all the time. Do you work with the Art Department too?”
Max snorted and drummed his fingers on top of the table. “Art Department.” His tone held disgust.
I waited for him to elaborate and got nothing.
“Art morphs life into cartoons, it creates vivid alternate universes. Art is a time capsule as it encapsulates a moment in history, sealing it forever on a canvas. Art…” Garrett could have gone on much longer, but Max interrupted him.
Max kicked out his legs, made himself comfortable, and said, “Hannah.”
How were these two guys friends? And what did Hannah mean? Was it Scoop Out’s PA, Hannah or another Hannah? Max didn’t clarify. I got up and zapped a plate for him. Maybe a meal would open him up. Garrett looked hopeful as I carried it over, right up until the point I placed the Italian food and a bottle of water in front of the action star. Max looked at the offering with suspicion and then checked out what Garrett and I were having.
“ Scoop Out delivery,” I said.
As if a decision was made, Max dug in. When he finished the lasagna, he drained his bottled water and stared at me, his brown eyes piercing, intent, holding an unspoken offer. He was kind of hot. Intense.
Garrett flattened his hand on the table. “She’s my chef. She’s not cooking for you.”
“We’ll see,” Max said. He gathered his trash and dumped it. Then he pulled a script from the art department envelope and dropped it on the table in front of Garrett. “Think about it.” He thumped the coversheet and strode off.
“He’s a bit primitive eh? Like a wild animal brought in for filming. We’ve contemplated cages, but the Human Resources Department felt that would skate the edge of what’s legal.”
“Did you see how Max carried his own dishes? I’ve never seen a man do that.” I fanned myself. “I think I just witnessed a step in evolution.”
“I consulted HR about that too. Were I to tote and carry, my grace and strength would shame the other workers. Once shame touched them, they’d begin to cower in the corners, unable to do their work. Nothing would get done. With progress halted, the world would go into a depression, the likes of which—”
I touched the edge of the script to cut off the excuse. “What’s that?”
Garrett flushed and moved the script out of reach. “Max’s anime project.”
“Is there a part for you?”
“Can’t you hear my brothers if I were to star in a cartoon?” Garrett folded the script in half and dropped his hand over the top. “A cartoon warrior.”
“Do I see a
Garrett stared at her a moment, and then said, “It’s a kilt, not a skirt.”
I bit my lip, dying to laugh.
“I can arrange a date with another star. There’s a premiere this weekend you can go to. You can wear pants.” She waved a dismissive hand at me. “No offense, but being seen around town with a reality star drags you in the wrong direction.”
“I have plans this weekend,” Garrett said.
His agent sighed. “Does it involve you wearing a kilt?”
“Aye.”
“Garrett, if you won’t take my advice, I’m not sure how this is going to work out.” Her phone beeped and she glanced down at the screen. “I can’t do this now. I have other clients too. I can only spend so much time helping you.” She dialed something on her screen, and walked off with her phone to her ear. “I’m at the studio.”
I felt oddly pleased. “Did she just call me a reality star?”
“She meant it as an insult.”
I grinned. “I know.”
Max joined us next. Wearing a v-neck T-shirt and black pants, he looked the part of karate action hero. A large manila envelope labeled Property of the Art Department swung from his hand. He thumped the edge of the thick envelope against the table.
I took a drink of my water. “ Scoop Out’s PA, Hannah, couriers envelopes like that all the time. Do you work with the Art Department too?”
Max snorted and drummed his fingers on top of the table. “Art Department.” His tone held disgust.
I waited for him to elaborate and got nothing.
“Art morphs life into cartoons, it creates vivid alternate universes. Art is a time capsule as it encapsulates a moment in history, sealing it forever on a canvas. Art…” Garrett could have gone on much longer, but Max interrupted him.
Max kicked out his legs, made himself comfortable, and said, “Hannah.”
How were these two guys friends? And what did Hannah mean? Was it Scoop Out’s PA, Hannah or another Hannah? Max didn’t clarify. I got up and zapped a plate for him. Maybe a meal would open him up. Garrett looked hopeful as I carried it over, right up until the point I placed the Italian food and a bottle of water in front of the action star. Max looked at the offering with suspicion and then checked out what Garrett and I were having.
“ Scoop Out delivery,” I said.
As if a decision was made, Max dug in. When he finished the lasagna, he drained his bottled water and stared at me, his brown eyes piercing, intent, holding an unspoken offer. He was kind of hot. Intense.
Garrett flattened his hand on the table. “She’s my chef. She’s not cooking for you.”
“We’ll see,” Max said. He gathered his trash and dumped it. Then he pulled a script from the art department envelope and dropped it on the table in front of Garrett. “Think about it.” He thumped the coversheet and strode off.
“He’s a bit primitive eh? Like a wild animal brought in for filming. We’ve contemplated cages, but the Human Resources Department felt that would skate the edge of what’s legal.”
“Did you see how Max carried his own dishes? I’ve never seen a man do that.” I fanned myself. “I think I just witnessed a step in evolution.”
“I consulted HR about that too. Were I to tote and carry, my grace and strength would shame the other workers. Once shame touched them, they’d begin to cower in the corners, unable to do their work. Nothing would get done. With progress halted, the world would go into a depression, the likes of which—”
I touched the edge of the script to cut off the excuse. “What’s that?”
Garrett flushed and moved the script out of reach. “Max’s anime project.”
“Is there a part for you?”
“Can’t you hear my brothers if I were to star in a cartoon?” Garrett folded the script in half and dropped his hand over the top. “A cartoon warrior.”
“Do I see a
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