No Wolves in Los Angeles by M S Lawson - HTML preview

Emma ticked off on her fingers. “Three, I think. Has Meghan said anything?”

“Nope,” said Mia. “Like the other times we just ignore it until she says otherwise.”

As it happened neither Will nor Meghan were in the house-office for much of the week. Will was helping with the pre-production for Party Town in a grimy, disused warehouse with a sub level which Hap had been able to rent in one of the warehouse districts South East of downtown LA.

“The warehouse will do for interior shots if we set up black screens for the CGI projections,” Hap told the others. “We’ll need a beach with a park for the exterior shots. I’m still working on that.”

As LA traffic made commuting difficult, and there were basic facilities at the site, the production team decided to squat in the warehouse for the couple of weeks of pre-production and watch slasher/horror/grunge/SF pictures in their down time. Hap liked that part of being a producer meant he could hang out with Will and Evan, although they sometimes did not all see eye to eye over the choice of films.

“Slave girls from Beyond Infinity, really?” said Will, reading the title of a DVD from the producers’ personal collection which Hap had brought to their camp-out. “1987, a classic year – I guess.”

“Is this the one where they escape by ‘reversing polarity’ on their chains and then stealing a space ship which they pilot?” asked Evan.

“That’s it,” said Hap.

“Seen some of it a while back,” said the director. “Do we want to see it again?”

“Hot girls, and we can learn something from it,” said Hap.

“About what not to do, maybe,” said Evan.

Eventually the other two gave way to Hap’s enthusiasm for the film. Although they didn’t learn anything much about film making, they agreed that the lead actresses were “hot” in an 80s-hairstyle kind of way.

Meanwhile Meghan was off on a beer commercial shoot in the desert, which took a whole three days and most certainly did not involve squatting in grimy warehouses or even nights in the campervans/Winnebagos used by film crews to live on location. Instead the star “slummed it” in a presidential suite of a three star hotel with production security keeping an eye on her. The presidential suite looked like the rest of the suites except that the bed had a different cover, but Meghan was sufficiently amused by the husband and wife owners of the hotel making such a fuss over their famous guest that she decided not to go diva on them.

Sometimes Meghan took Mia on such shoots but as this time there would not be much for her assistant to do but sit around in the hot desert she was left at the house, so she could go home to Jake each night. Meghan called her if she wanted something, or often just to talk. During the first two calls the star did not mention Will and Mia avoided talking about the writer. On the third call, when Meghan realised that Mia was not going to broach the subject of Will, the star said, out of the blue, “and I hate Will Moorland”.

“Okay,” said Mia. “You hate him. Gotit.”

“And don’t just indulge the Diva by saying ‘okay’!”

“Umm, alright,” said Mia, although she wasn’t quite sure what she was being accused of. In fact, she had spoken to Will about the reasons for the firing and thought that the writer was justified in refusing to do the pickup, although wisely she did not say this. (When Mrs Kowalski eventually heard of the incident, via Mia telling Madison, her already high opinion of Will rose several notches. She strongly disapproved of her daughter’s use of sticks.)

“Is Will at the house?”

“He’s on site at that film of his, in some old warehouse Hap’s got South of downtown. He’s squatting with the guys in it for most of this week and handling your stuff by remote.”

“Ha!” said Meghan. “Tell him I hope he gets a horrible disease and dies.”

“I’ll tell him that,” said Mia, as that seemed like a safe thing to say. She later sent the writer a text.

Will’s response: “The warehouse is grimy and has rats. Meghan may get her wish. Tell her there’s no pool to swim in and I’m suffering horribly, that’ll cheer her up.”

Mia sent that on, minus the comment about cheering her up, and went back to her administration chores. It wasn’t her fight.

“He should suffer more,” retorted Meghan in a text. “Tell him I’m going to buy a shark and put it in the pool.”

“In chlorinated fresh water?” Will responded. “Poor thing. Maybe she could use piranhas. They’re at least fresh water fish. Then if I’m eaten, Meghan won’t hate me as much.” This was duly passed onto the star.

“I’m always going to hate him,” retorted Meghan.

Will decided he would stay a while longer at the warehouse.

Meghan then tried to get Mia to come with her to the party for which she had been given an invitation at the drug house. Mia, however, had already been told about the party by Will and, wary of it, invented a family engagement with Jake. “Why don’t you get Misty to go?” she said. “And I’ll book Henry. You don’t want to go to that sort of party without backup.”

Meanwhile Will’s peace of mind was shattered by the arrival of Danni Devlin in a tight top and jeans accompanied by a security man in a suit and sunglasses. He was as big as George and unsmiling.

“I’ve been sent by Mr Scranton to make sure Ms Devlin isn’t bothered,” he said.

“Okay,” said Evan who then later asked Will. “Who is Scranton?”

“Property billionaire,” said Will, “and I guess her boyfriend. I saw them together at the party where we met. She found out he was megarich and went straight in.” Will also noticed, but did not comment on, that Danni seemed more tanned than when he had seen her last. There would have been plenty of sunbathing in the Bahamas.

“Whatever,” said Evan. “She’s got the looks for this, we’ll see if she can act.”

As it happened Danni could act, or at least well enough for a low-budget slasher film, going through the motions in an audition, with Evan using his mobile as a stand in for a movie camera and the porn star brandishing a toy pistol as a make-do prop. Afterwards, Danni checked out the CGI backgrounds and monsters created by Hap and agreed to take the role.

“Not a bad script, Will,” she said, tapping the printed copy on her lap. She was sitting in a director’s chair while Hap and Evan were busy discussing details of the graphics on one of the screens. The security man glowered in the background. “You guys are serious.”

“Of course,” said Will. “Mind you, Evan and I had to argue a lot with Hap, who wanted every girl topless at all times.”

“Humph! You got him to cut back my topless shots to a couple of scenes?”

“Plus gratuitous nudity in the crowd scenes. Just how you handle your scenes is a matter between you and Evan.”

She shrugged. “Should be alright as is.”

“You must get a lot of doubtful offers.”

“I get a lot of propositions, is what I get,” she said. “How’s Clarise?”

“Shooting a beer commercial in the desert and mad at me for not doing exactly what I tell her to do.”

“Guys should do exactly what they are told,” retorted Danni, smiling. “How did you mess up in her eyes?”

“Prefer not to say.”

“At least you’re discrete,” she said. “I like that in a man.”

“Last I heard she wanted to buy some piranhas to put in the pool at her place for the next time I go swimming.”

“You use the pool at her place? I thought you were just staff.”

“I am just staff, but I swim every day. It was a condition of my employment.”

“Hers or yours?”

“Mine, although she and the ladies on staff do watch me swim.” That made her laugh. “One time her friends came and took my shirt while I was swimming and wouldn’t give it back to me.”

“Must be dreadful being seen as just a sex object,” said Danni, in mock sympathy.

“I’m exploited it’s true; it’s very sad.”

Hap and Evan turned their attention back to Danni who left soon thereafter waving briefly at Will before getting back into the stretch limousine with her grim security man, leaving the core production team of Party Town to hash through more details of just how they would shoot the picture.

After an exhausting week, the production team adjourned for part of the weekend and Will finally got back to an apartment on Saturday evening with his roomies off at a Goth party. Pan had tried to get Will to come to the party to meet her single girlfriends but the writer had declined on the grounds that he had to have a night to rest and regroup after a week of dealing with Hap’s enthusiasm. He had dinner and started a grand strategy computer game.

For her part, once she had finished with the beer commercial, Meghan moved on to a watch endorsement photo shoot. This involved a lot of work with costumes, lighting, backgrounds, makeup and much else besides, all requiring adjustment and discussion in order for the photographer to take hundreds of images, out of which perhaps two or three would be chosen as showing the “essence” of the product. Meghan would collect a fee for all this, but at the end of what she also found to be an exhausting week the star thought that she could do with a party. She found the invitation given to her at the drug house and called Henry.

The first Will knew of any of this was when Henry called him.

“Hey man, what’s up!”

“I’m at the house where Ms Chalmers wanted to go for a party, and she’s called me on my cell but she doesn’t make sense.”

“You can’t get in to grab her?”

“They won’t let me in without an invitation. They let her and Ms Dawn go, and the ladies said they’d call if there was any trouble.”

“Misty is with her? Where is this party?”

The address George gave rang an alarm bell with the writer. “It’s that drug house party. You remember the house we went to and came out with Ty Leighton?”

“Ohhhh man, I remember that place,” said George.

“They were handing out invitations then. I might even still have the one they gave me…” Will looked in his closet and felt in the pocket of the jacket which was still hanging where he had left it when he came home that night, the invitation still in the jacket pocket. “Got it. I can get in, but it says specifically ‘admit one’ on this invite. How come Misty got in?”

“They recognised her at the door. Celebrities count but bodyguards don’t.”

“I’ll have to come. I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“Worried,” said George.

Will changed, put on the jacket and dashed through the streets. It did not seem to matter what time of day or what day of the week, there was always plenty of traffic in Los Angeles. Will wondered, as he always did, where could all the people in all the cars be going?

George was standing in the street at the front gate of a white, two-story house in the neo-Georgian style meaning, among other things, that it had large, muti-pane windows on two floors set symmetrically about an entrance way. As Will drove past the bodyguard was resisting attempts by the party’s doorman – the same man with smouldering black eyes that had been on the door at the drug house – to get him to move on. The writer had to drive almost another block before finding a place to park and then ran back, to arrive just as the black-eyed man had been joined by another heavy set thug with a distinctly Eastern vibe.

“George, there you are,” said Will, slowing down to a brisk walk. “Let’s go in.”

“Invitation only, sir,” said the second thug.

“Good thing I have one,” said Will, producing his invitation for inspection. “This other gentleman might remember me from last weekend when I picked up Ty Leighton from your establishment. You were doorman then.”

“Remember Mr Leighton leaving,” said the black-eyed gentleman, eyeing the invitation. “You can come in but not him.” He pointed at George.

“Okay, but George stays right here. It’s a public walkway he can stand where he wants.” Will dodged past the two men and got to the door without further argument to find it unlocked. Another man inside glanced briefly at the two doormen still at the front gate and at Will’s invitation and then ignored him.

Beyond the door the music pulsed. Party goers in different states of undress drifted around the foyer and corridors. No one seemed to be in a hurry and no one paid any attention to the writer, except for a man behind a table in the foyer selling drugs. These included a selection of powders, pills in little plastic bags and a few cigarette-like objects on the side. All were expensive.

“Just come to get my boss,” he said.

He called George: “On second thoughts just move to the other side of the street, so our friends on the door can’t complain. I’ll put this phone in my pocket but I’ll put you on speaker and won’t hang up. Stay on the line.”

“Got it,” said George.

Will looked into a couple of rooms. What must be the house’s main living room had bodies draped everywhere. In the midst of this on the carpet a couple was having sex, the woman on top moving slowly and apparently enjoying herself. She looked up and smiled at the writer, who got the impression that the woman was performing rather than drugged up.

“You can be next if you like?” she said. The man on the carpet, who was also obviously enjoying himself, paid no attention to this interaction.

“Thanks but I have to find someone,” said Will. He checked the kitchen, to find one young gentleman with a punk hairdo saying that he was God and would destroy the earth but no Meg. Upstairs, another couple was having sex in the corridor, this time with the man on top, while the other party goers stepped over the couple. Then he found Meghan in one of the bedrooms, crowded with drugged-up people. She had been cornered by three young, clean-cut corporate types complete with suits and loosened ties who clearly fancied themselves as her next boyfriend. Standing close enough to breathe on her, they were stoned out of their minds.

“Then I made two million on the generalators deal,” said the man closest to Will. He was tall and blonde and standing with his back to the writer. He might have been trying to say ‘generators’.

“Oh man, I made four million trading bond hybrids for the Falbig Catalaxy,” said another. Will was not sure that the pronunciation of ‘Falbig Catalaxy’ was correct either, especially as the man was slurring his words, but it was time to break up the party.

“Meg!” he said.

“Oh, Will!” The star was glad to see her fired employee.

“Guys I’m on Mr Chalmers’ staff and I got the bat signal. Time for her to go.”

He grabbed the star’s hand who gladly allowed herself to be pulled out of the press of traders.

“Hay, man!” said the blond trader, grabbing at her. “We wuz just getting acquaint.. acquainted-like.”

Will knocked the man’s hand away. “Say goodbye to the nice gentlemen, Meg.”

“Goodbye nice gentleman,” said Meghan. Outside the room she said, “I don’t feel so good, Will. I’ve only had one drink and one of my sticks, but I’m feeling sick.”

“We’ll get you home quick.” He took his phone out. “George you there? Got her. Get the car but keep the line open and the phone with you.”

“Getting it now,” said Henry.

“Those guys wouldn’t let me leave,” said Meghan, leaning against Will and gasping. The writer thought that she looked a little green. “My purse. I’ve left it somewhere. And where’s Misty? We can’t leave without Misty.”

Two rooms along, with Will holding Meghan’s hand tightly, he found Misty in a line of young ladies mostly in their underwear, two were topless, with the Evil Buddha from the drug house conducting an auction to a mixed crowd of the LA rich and nasty.

“Guys what am I bid for number three’s bra,” said Evil Buddha.

“One thousand slurred someone.”

Will saw that Misty had a number three on a card hung around her neck and was plainly terrified. Another girl was obviously unhappy, while the other three were stoned and smiling.

“Bids are off for Misty’s bra, guys. Time for Misty to go home.”

“Now wait,” said Evil Buddha. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Will!” said Misty. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“I’m on Ms Chalmers’ staff,” barked Will. He had a loud voice when he chose to use it and could give it an angry edge. In such circumstances, a loud, angry voice and assertion of authority helped a lot more than any amount of martial arts training. Will had seen films where the protagonists had beaten up a whole crowd of thugs with whom they disagreed. Even if he could beat up Evil Buddha plus an enforcer type who, Will realised, was now closing in on his left, he doubted he would get by the three hefty doormen even with Henry’s help. They had not looked like ‘live and let live’ kinda guys.

“Misty, get your clothes and let’s roll. You, number five.” That was the other terrified girl, a cute office type (Will later discovered she was a book keeper from Wyoming) “If you want to come with us you’re welcome. Grab your clothes.”

The girl nodded and dashed out of the line.

“I said to wait!” snarled Evil Buddha.

The enforcer type tried to grab Will’s arm, muttering “Mr Chan said to wait.” The writer shook him off and whipped out his phone, which was still on speaker. “George you there?”

“Here boss. Got the cops on speed dial.”

“Get ready to tell them that there are women being held against their will at this address and being forced to strip. There may be sexual assaults. There’s also drugs for sale.”

The crowd was suddenly silent.

“They’ll have probable cause enough to enter, Mr Chan,” said Will, speaking directly to Evil Buddha.

Chan gestured and the enforcer type gave up on grabbing the writer’s arm. By that time the two ladies had joined him and were putting on their dresses, not caring about the crowd watching them, although a lot of eyes were on Meghan.

“I take my friends and there’s no need to call the cops,” said Will. “No need for anyone to be taken down to the station or for lawyers to be called. You can forget about the incident.”

Chan sneered.

“Where’s my purse?” said the cute office type.

“That’s a good point. Where are the purses for all the ladies?”

“I’ll get them,” said Chan, suddenly shifting from defiant sneering to sullen helpfulness, a shift which surprised Will. “Take over Jer.”

The Buddha walked passed Will and the ladies without a word and they followed him to a sideboard in the main foyer with a piece of decorative glass on top. On the wall above the glass was an abstract painting - a series of jagged lines set diagonally on a black background. Will was a writer not an art critic but thought the painting was cheap. Evil Buddha unlocked the sideboard, pulled out a number of bags and purses and laid them beside the decorative glass. Will realised that his little group was a long pace behind the foyer’s drugs vendor who was busy with customers.

“Mine’s the white bag at the end,” said Meghan.

Evil Buddha grabbed it but took a step to his right so that for a moment his bulk hid the purse, he paused for a touch longer than seemed necessary, apparently looking at the purse, then turned to hand it to Will. The man’s movements had been sufficiently odd for Will to look in the open top of the expensive white leather bag to see a plastic bag of powder. He turned away so that his own body blocked the view of any observers or cameras, whipped out the pocket square – the same one that Meghan had given him in New York – from the jacket’s side pocket, used it to grip the powder bag and flung it against the wall, just behind the drug vendor.

“Will, what…!” said Meghan woozily, still leaning against the writer.

“Shh!” said Will.

He turned back just as Chan had completed the same act with Misty’s green zip-up bag, but before Will could warn Misty their host grabbed the cute office girl’s black bag and all but threw it at her. After a single, venomous glance at Will, he stomped back upstairs.

“Misty,” hissed Will, “turn around and check your bag.”

“It’s unzipped,” she said, in surprise. She turned around, looked, then gasped, and showed Will. It contained a plastic pouch filled with powder. “That’s not mine.”

“Shhh! Use this to grasp it and then fling it in his direction,” said Will, handing Misty the pocket square then gesturing towards the drug vendor. With any luck, when the pouch was found later, it would be considered to be part of the vendor’s stock that had fallen off the table. The cute office type overheard this and also checked her bag, to go through the same motions as Misty.

“Ladies we are leaving,” said Will. “Stick close and keep those bags shut.”

They got out to the front gate where Henry was waiting with Meghan’s BMW, then drove a short distance down the road before Will told Henry to stop next to a drain grate he saw in the gutter.

“Ladies, check your bags and purses again,” he said. “Make sure there’s nothing illegal. Henry check the trunk and under the seats. Any odd corners. Maybe the spare wheel space.”

“What am I looking for, Will,” said Henry.

“The host left the ladies some little packages of powder in their handbags for someone else to find. They’re not likely to have left anything in the car, but better check.”

A thorough search found nothing. Will found two of the drug sticks Meghan liked in her handbag, crushed them under his foot and kicked them into the drain.

“You got any priors, Henry?” Will said as they got back in.

“Possession, small amount, as a teenager. Community service. Means nothing, man.”

“I’m sure of that but were you charged as an adult or a minor?”

“Adult.”

“Then better let me drive. If we get stopped the driver is the one who gets the attention and I’m a clean skin.”

They drove on a little further and, just as they were turning into the feeder road, a police car came up behind them and sounded its siren. Will duly pulled over. “No one says anything but me. They’ve got no reason to pull us over, as far as I know. That means anything they find is inadmissible in court. Everyone hang tight.”

“Not so well, Will,” said Meghan from the back seat.

The policeman who came to the driver’s side door to ask for licence and registration could have come straight from central casting as a clean-cut, square-jawed cop-on-the-job. Will handed over the documents.

“Was there a problem officer?” he asked sweetly.

“Right, rear indicator not working, sir,” said the policeman, “or you were not indicating as you should.”

“I’m sure I was indicating, officer,” said Will, politely. “But if there is a problem with the car can I get out to check before we drive on?”

The cop nodded and Will got out, walked around and yelled at Henry to flip the indicator. It blinked.

“Seems to be working, officer,” he said.

“I was sure there was no light,” said the policeman.

Just then Meghan all but fell out of the back passenger door, onto her hands and knees, and vomited into the gutter.

“Oh my, my,” said the officer. Meghan had instinctively brought her handbag, clutched in one hand, which she dropped on the sidewalk lawn. The cop almost pounced on this, saying “Just let me get this for you.” Then held it up in such a way that he could “accidentally” see inside. He was still peering inside when Will took it and patted Meghan on the back.

“Let it out,” he murmured – about all that he could do.

Misty Dawn stumbled out after Meghan and also threw up on the lawn, although while standing up.

“Indications of drug use,” said the officer, grabbing Misty’s bag, unzipping it and looking inside. “These ladies are famous aren’t they?”

“It’s evidence that they’re sick, famous or not,” said Will. “We’d like to get the ladies home, so they can be sick in private.”

“You have a conviction for possession,” said the cop to Will. He dredged up a handful of Misty’s possessions from the bottom of her bag for closer inspection, then let them drop back, disappointed.

“No I don’t, officer,” said Will. “I’ve never been charged with anything.” Just then the second officer, who had been checking Will’s licence, handed it back to the writer and shook his head at his partner.

The first officer looked hopefully at the cute office type, who showed no signs of illness, then said “very well, sir, sorry for the inconvenience. We won’t do a ticket this time.”

“Thank you, officer,” said Will, who saw nothing to be gained by rubbing the officer’s nose in his defeat. “Long night for you I guess. Take care.”

They got back in the car.

“Are we going to take the ladies to a clinic or hospital?” asked Henry, as they drove off.

“How’s it going back there, ladies?” said Will.

“Still feel off but better,” said Misty. “I had some tasty savoury they were offering at the party. I think that was the problem. But I just got rid of it in a most unglamorous way as you saw.”

“What about you, other person?” Said Will. “I’m sorry I haven’t yet asked your name.”

“It’s Lissa,” said the cute office type. Really thanks for the rescue, Will, is it? The guy by the door just grabbed me and forced me into that line. I saw them offering those savouries around but only to some people. I didn’t get one.”

“I had two,” said Meghan. “I just want to go home, Will. I think I’ll be alright and too much media if I go to a hospital.”

“Okay, let’s all go to Meghan’s place and keep an eye on our two patients. If it gets worse we can go to a hospital..”

“I can’t believe I’m in the same car as Clarise Chalmers and Misty Dawn,” said Lissa. “This is really LA.”

When they got home Meghan was apparently asleep so Will picked her up and carried her inside. It was a strange sensation, Will thought, carrying the star.

Meghan opened her eyes, put one arm around Will’s neck, said “I hate you Will Moreland”, and then seemed to go back to sleep again.

“I think she’s getting better,” said Will.

 

The traffic incident was later discussed in a police station office by the officers concerned and a Federal agent.

“We managed to look where you told us to look,” said the first officer. “And came up with nothing. They must’ve dumped the drugs at the party.”

“The watcher said they made a stop just up the street,” said the agent. Unlike the officers, the agent had a very lived-in face with streaks of grey showing his hair. He liked the sit in the shadow, so the cops through of him as shadow-man.

“We looked there,” said the second officer. “Just traces of stuff and a few bits of paper. Nothing we could hang anything on, even if we could make a connection with the car. As it was the stop was barely legal.”

“It wasn’t legal at all,” said the first officer. “I had to make up a story about the indicator and the driver seemed to know it.”

“The guy with the drug conviction?” said the agent.

“No that was the guy riding shotgun. They’d also switched drivers. This was a William Moreland. No record. The ladies were sure sick but otherwise the whole thing was a bust. All we can show for the incident is to say that Clarise Chalmers is a total babe, even when she’s throwing up on the sidewalk.”

“So is Misty Dawn, but still no arrest,” said the second officer.

“What it comes down to is the guy who got them is a smart operator and saw us coming,” said the first officer.

“It’s Hollywood,” said the agent. “Plenty of celebrities.”

“Maybe next time we can make it legal,” said the first officer, “without having to plant the drugs.”

“Whatever,” said the agent.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

When Meghan woke up in the early morning darkness, she saw a shape lying beside her and shook it.

“Will?” she said, tentatively.

“Wha? No, Misty,” said the shape, turning over. “The boys have gone home, and dropped that other girl off, but Will said I should sleep here in case you were still sick. You had whatever was in those savouries worse than me.”

Remembering more of what had happened that night, Meghan realised she had been put on the bed, still in her dress, and a blanket flung over her.

“How are you feeling anyway,” said Misty.

“Still not so good, but better, I guess. Did Will say when he’d be back?”

“He said he’d call. In the meantime, he’s left some water for you on the bedside table and a light breakfast downstairs for when you get up. He’s being very attentive, I think.”

“Maybe,” said Meghan.

“Would you have preferred that it was Will here rather than me?”

“Would have liked Will to be around,” said Meghan. “Last night is a blur. What happened?”

Misty went over the events of the night. Meghan got up long enough to clean off her face, brush her teeth and change, and waved away Misty’s apologies for using a toothbrush she had found in the en-suite which looked spare.

“I think Robin used that one when he was here,” said Meghan. “Take it with you. Those cops last night looked in my bag?”

“And mine. Even searched it hoping to find the drugs planted at the party, but we’d got rid of everything. I think Will threw away a couple of those sticks you had in your bag. He also said to tell you he’s taken the sticks in your bedside drawer just in case the cops found a way to get a search warrant. He said the traffic stop was an ambush.”

Meghan shrugged her shoulders over that news. She would far rather not have the police in her life than the sticks and there was something sinister about the way they had been stopped after leaving the party.

“Will told me off,” said Misty. “Said we should never have gone into the party without George. If George wasn’t allowed in, then skip the party and go to a night club.” He even wagged his finger at me.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘yes dad’. Anyway, considering what happened, he had a point. Let’s club next time.”

“Deal,” said Meghan.

“And let’s take Will. He’s fun. We watched one of your films for a time last night.”

“Which one?”

“A Very Continental Affair.”

“I’m mostly in my underwear.”

“Topless in one scene. Will said you managed to make the sex scenes with the husband and wife separately, and then with the husband’s boyfriend and the wife’s boyfriend with none of the parties realising that they were all having an affair with the same person believable. He also said the topless scene was interesting.”

“Interesting!” said Meghan. “Is that all he had to say?”

“He couldn’t say much else without seeming sleazy.”

“He’s a writer, it’s his job to think of something nice to say.”

“Yes, Meg,” said Misty.

 

That morning, when the ladies finally got up, Meghan found texts on her phone declaring that her mother and Madison, having been told of an illness due to eating something off at a party, but nothing about drugs or being stopped by police, declared that they would come that day and stay the night. Meghan and Misty also found two cans of fruit salad on the kitchen top and two fresh pears under plastic wrap in the fridge.

As the can was not one of those where the top could be peeled off, Will had left instructions about how to open it on a note.

 

“Electric can opener in corner – black device to your right.” (An arrow drawn by him helpfully pointed to the right.)

“Insert can in device then pull top lever down. It should all lock into place. Then turn it on, using the switch on the front. There are also videos online about how to work it. If all else fails, ask Misty.

“Chop up the pears (you use a knife from a drawer on the other side of the kitchen). They are good on an unsettled stomach.”

Misty giggled. “I don’t think Will thinks much of your skills in a kitchen.”

Meghan, previously unaware her kitchen had an electric can opener, or even that there were electric can openers, smiled.

“Ha!” she said, but without any heat.

The ladies made a reasonable brunch of the fruit which stayed down. Then the two Kowalskis arrived to make a fuss over Meghan and Misty, which was gratifying. Misty took an Uber back to her own home and Meghan chose to lay out for a time by her pool as part of the recovery process. While she was there Will called.

“You!” she said. “You think I’m so hopeless I don’t know where the cutlery is in my own kitchen?”

“I was just covering all the bases,” said Will, cheerfully. “You’re a world famous star who has many things on her mind. Cutlery is a detail you can leave up to your underlings – assuming, of course, that I still count as that considering that I’ve been fired ‘n all.”

“It never seems to work my firing you,” she said. “And my topless scene is just interesting? What sort of comment is that from a writer?”

“I’d be in trouble if I said anything else.”

“Ha!” said Meghan. “When are you coming over?”

“Oh right!” Will had not expected to be invited over. “I’ve got some of my own stuff to finish up here, why don’t I come over this evening and grab takeaways? There’s that Chinese restaurant near you. We can all watch a Star Wars film afterwards.”

“We can watch a non-star wars film, Mr Moreland,” retorted Meghan. “Mention Star Wars and I’ll set the dogs on you.”

“You don’t have any dogs,” Will pointed out, “just a cat.”

“I’ll get dogs – nasty ones,” said Meghan, “and someone to take your body away.”

Will sighed. “Okay, but maybe not the film of last night. You were the best part of it, but I had trouble following all the affairs and betrayals. It was typical Hollywood over-kill. Everyone was having affairs with everyone else and they were all betraying each other.”

“Even the director had trouble keeping it straight,” said Meghan. “One of the bedroom scenes they had to re-do because they realised it was supposed to be me in it, not the husband’s other girlfriend.”

“See, complicated, while Star Wars plots are mostly straight forward. Tonight. Chinese for four.”

Mrs Kowalski received the news of Will bringing Chinese takeaways for dinner with the comment that it would be “nice to see Will again, dear” and with relief that she did not have to trouble herself about the meal. Both she and Madison, however, were surprised when Meghan appeared in a black, short, figure-hugging, sleeveless club outfit with a plunging neckline.

“Is this outfit for Will?” asked Madison.

“Just dressing for the occasion,” said Meghan, coyly.

“Riggghhht! You want to make Will choke again.”

“Maybe,” she said.

As it happened, Will left his car in the driveway and came in by the front door, so that Meghan could confront him in her entrance foyer. The writer’s mouth dropped open. He put the takeaway packages on the foyer table.

“Quite a dress,” he exclaimed. “At least this time I’m not drinking anything, so I won’t choke.”

“Misty said you told her off about what happened last night.”

“That’s right,” said Will. “I told her and I’ll tell you if George can’t follow then don’t go. You are too high profile. Naughty!” He wagged his finger at her and spoke as if to a very young child. “Baaaaad!”

“Okay, point noted,” she said, moving closer. “Finished?”

“Guess so – that dress is..”

Meghan abruptly closed the distance, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. After a moment’s hesitation, having been caught by surprise, Will kissed back. When they paused, he asked: “this means I’m not fired, right?”

“Shut up,” she said and they kissed again.

Mrs Kowalski, wondering what had happened to dinner, looked in for a moment then hurriedly returned to the table, miming cuddling and kissing for Madison.

“Our dinner is getting cold,” said Madison, rolling her eyes, “while they mess with one another.”

“We can always heat it up in the microwave,” said Mrs Kowalski, amused. “Or do you want to go in there and separate them?”

After a few minutes, when Will also pointed out that the dinner was cooling, the couple emerged.

“Hey Claire, hey Maddie,” said Will, “how’s the antiques business?”

“Could always be better, Will,” said Mrs Kowalski. “Your film project sounds more interesting than antiques at the moment. Meghan says you’re an assistant director in this venture, as well as script writer. How is it going?”

“It’s low budget, Claire,” said Will. “But there’s enough money to make an effort at being serious. We’ve been doing pre-production all last week and this week.”

That led to Will telling the ladies about Danni’s screen test and how she was shadowed by a security man hired by property mogul Scranton.

“So she did end up with that guy,” exclaimed Meghan and that led to further explanations for the other Kowalskis, to make dinner pass pleasantly enough. Will made coffee to order and then Mrs Kowalski declared that she would watch an old-time musical on the television in her room and would take Madison with her. Meghan and Will could then argue about what film to see in peace and quiet, or so she said.

Having been left to themselves. Will and Meghan then cuddled on the couch for some time.

“You know this is about when I’d suggest we go upstairs,” Will said, “and you’d say something like ‘I want to take things slow’.”

“Do I or we want to take things slow?” said Meghan, eyeing the writer quizzically.

“Well, I was just wondering about Madison,” said Will.

“Madison? She’s a big girl. She’ll survive.”

“You remember when Robin Hawke came here and you went off with him?” said Will. “Maddie seemed uncomfortable at the time. That was why I started that card game. To distract her.”

“She was uncomfortable? I didn’t think she cared about that sort of thing.”

“Anyway, maybe you can hold your animal urges in check for one night…” Will could not believe he was putting off sex with one of Hollywood’s desirable women, but this turn of events had taken him by surprise. He knew he was doomed, but perhaps he could delay the inevitable.

“My animal urges, Mr Moorland! Ha! I’ll give you animal urges.” She kissed him soundly then they finally turned the television on to watch, of all things, the latest James Bond film while lying half on Will, the writer’s arm around her.

“There’s been talk of you being the next Bond girl,” said Will.

“Just talk, so far,” said Meghan. “If I’m offered I’ll think about it.”

Will’s occasional comment on the plot and action film sequences she found amusing and diverting.

“’Been studying these with the guys from the production team,” he said. “Stitching action scenes together so that the film still makes sense is a real challenge.”

“What about sex scenes?”

“Those too.”

Meghan saw Will off with some more kissing at the door, just as she had done with boyfriends at school.

“You’ll be here for your usual swim tomorrow?”

“Actually no, I’ve still got pre-production for the film.”

“Really?” said Meghan doing her best to sound displeased.

“Why don’t I come by for dinner with takeaways, after the others have gone and you can tell me how much my performance as an employee displeases you.”

“Sounds good, Mr Moreland, but I have to watch my diet.”

“What about one of those salad bowl kits I saw in the supermarket? I could get one of those and toss it for you, and Chinese for myself.”

“Deal. We’ll try that,” she said. Meghan then went to confront Maddie, still watching films in her mother’s bedroom.

“Will’s gone home?” said Maddie, surprised. She had thought she might not see her sister again until morning.

“He’s coming tomorrow night,” said Meghan. “He said that you seemed uncomfortable that time Robin came here unexpectedly and we went up to my room.”

“I was sorta uncomfortable, I guess,” Maddie said, surprised at the question. “Was it that obvious? That’s embarrassing.”

Mrs Kowalski stopped the film to better hear the conversation but made no comment.

“Will said he started that card game you were all in when I came down to distract you,” said Meghan.

“He did? That was sweet of him.”

“Does that sort of thing worry you? I mean, we could have held off, and been more discreet.”

“It’s not so much that I was worried in general,” said Maddie, “it’s just that, and this is embarrassing, I had a crush on Robin.”

“Oh!” said Meghan. “Did anything happen with this crush?”

“No, no, we said hello a couple of times but he didn’t seem to notice me much, and he was your boyfriend so I didn’t do anything, but I couldn’t help the crush,” said Maddie.

“Half the college girls in America have a crush on Robin,” said Meghan. “Do you still have a crush?”

“After the way he treated you? No way. He’s forgotten.”

Meghan decided that her sister’s crush on a dumped and disgraced former boyfriend where nothing happened could be forgotten.

“Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t know at the time,” she said.

“I didn’t tell anybody and I tried hard not to show it. Now that he’s gone I’m glad. Life is simpler.”

“What about Will?”

“I really like Will,” said Maddison, “but I don’t have a crush on him. Wait, did you guys hold off because of me? There was no need.”

Meghan shrugged. “Will said I could check my animal urges for one night.”

The other Kowalskis laughed.

“As you seem fine, darling,” said Mrs Kowalski, “we will move back to the store tomorrow. You and Will can deal with these animal urges in private.”

Will, for his part, drove home thinking that he would have his heart broken by an actress yet again, but that he couldn’t do anything about it.

 

The next day proved to be a quiet one for Meghan of reading scripts, broken only by a long session with her personal trainer. Towards the end of the day she happened to mention, casually, to Mia that Will would be coming over for dinner.

“Dinner?” said Mia. “This is a new development, Will coming over for dinner.”

“He was here last night,” said Meghan, coyly.

“Huh! You’re not making this dinner, I guess?”

“No, Will is bringing it.”

“With your mum and Maddie having gone home,” said Mia, “there’ll be no one to keep an eye on you two.”

“We don’t need chaperones.”

When Will arrived, this time leaving his car in the garage, Meghan was waiting for him in the living room in a silver, backless club dress which also took Will’s breath away. She took the food from his hands, put them on a side table and kissed his still open mouth. Will carried her upstairs.

Pleasantly surprised that her own needs were attended to Meghan also found that, when the coupling was over, she was allowed to cling. Her preference for holding lovers close had caused problems with other partners but Will did not mind and his body, Meghan decided, was worth clinging to. She also liked to talk afterwards and there were matters to discuss.

“There is one thing that has been bothering me,” she said. “I’m due to start shooting that beach volleyball film the week after next and it’s in Australia. After that, I more or less have to go straight to New York for an episode of that series where I’m an alien.”

“I had been thinking about that,” said Will, who had decided that since he was doomed he might as well enjoy the good part. “Why don’t I come with you?”

Meghan raised her head. “Really?”

“Sure, it’s a bit intense for this stage of whatever this is but it is more convenient for the work I do for you to actually be in the same place as the diva, and I can do my writing anywhere, so why don’t I stay with you? You draw a suite right?”

Meghan considered this for a moment. Maybe it was “intense” as Will said, but she had been thinking about asking Will to come anyway and, after that night, if he was coming he might as well stay with her.

“Are you going to come with me on the flight over?” she said.

“On the private jet Mia says is lined up? Sure. A private jet sounds interesting enough, but if I come she gets to sit with Jake and I get to sit with the star.”

“Jake is coming?” said Meghan.

“He got an assistant director gig last minute on this film. You’ll have an ally in the directorial camp. From what I hear of your director you might need one.”

The Italian born director, Paolo Amato had a reputation for brilliance combined with arrogance and an ego that stood out even in Hollywood. No one knew just exactly why he had ended up directing a by-the-numbers romance involving rival beach volleyball men’s and women’s teams, but a few guessed that he had clashed too often with senior executives in major studios to get a project better suited to his talents. Meghan, for her part, thought that if she could survive the chaos of the New York Affair shoot she could survive anything, and she was collecting a nice fee.

The next morning at the usual start of the day conference, as Will splashed up and down the pool – pre-production on Party Town Terror was on hold for a day or so – Mia received the news that Will would also be on the jet and staying in Meghan’s hotel suite with a smile.

“I see,” she said. “You two had a good dinner last night?”

“Pretty good,” said Meghan, coyly, “when we got to it”.

“Uh-huh! Anyway, this means that I don’t have to entertain the diva in the plane and get to sit with my boyfriend.”

“Yep, Will has to entertain the diva,” said Meghan, cheerfully.

Poor Emma would be left behind to handle posts on multiple social media outlets, monitor news items and, perhaps, catch up on the streaming dramas she had been following.

The one major item for that day was a photoshoot, using Meghan’s pool, for a line of swim wear to kick off the fledgling Bad Diva fashion label. This involved the usual tonne of equipment and numerous crew members including the photographer himself and two male models, one to do the shoot with Meghan and one spare. The photographer, Joel, the first to arrive and very interested to meet Will, referred to the two models as “nice boys”. These nice boys arrived later holding hands.

“They’re all good friends of mine and incredibly gay,” said Meghan quietly to Will.

“I sorta got the gay part,” said Will.

“No leaving, like with that other shoot. Coffee for the cast later?”

“Of course,” said Will.

After Joel had fussed around with screens and lights, he got Meghan and the main model, Mason, to jump into the pool near the deep end and submerge themselves fully briefly then fussed around some more over the way the light reflected off their skin, getting make-up lady Miranda to rub some cream on muscle lines. Finally, he was satisfied to the point of asking Meghan, who was wearing one of the new swimwear line to take off both her top and bikini bottom. These were placed in artful disarray by the edge of the pool, along with a pair of wet men’s bathers to one side.

“Shuffle down a little, darlings,” said Joel, “I need to see a little more cleavage from Meg… just a little more, okay that should do it. Hug her Mason, pretend you’re hetro.”

“It’s so different hugging a girl,” said Mason, who had known Meghan since a photoshoot while she was still in high school. “Two big bumps. Is that hunk riding a laptop on your dining room table the latest?”

“Yep. His name is Will. He works for me as a consultant.”

“Now darlings let’s get passionate,” said Joel. “Meghan, darling, I want your best cry of passion – you’re on the camera side so you’re on Mason’s left cheek.”

“Really?” said Mason, “And what does he consult on, Ms Kowalski?”

“Everyone asks that,” said Meghan, settling her cheek on Mason’s. “He’s sweet, but he’s also proved a very useful consultant.”

“Mouth open, cry of passion, Meg,” said Joel, taking the first shots. “Remember you’ve ripped each other’s swimmers off to have fabulous sex in the pool. Hold Meg closer Mason. Remember, for this shot you’re hetro. I hope the water’s warm. That helps the passion. That’s excellent darlings. Bit more ecstasy Meghan, sweetie. Keep it hot Mason.”

Suddenly Mason stopped hugging Meghan and pushed her away.

“I’m sorry, Meghan, darling,” he said. “I love you madly but I can’t do the hetro thing anymore.”

“What?” said Meghan.

“Mason, sweetie, this isn’t the time,” said Joel.

“I can’t deny who I am, even for a photoshoot with an old friend.” Mason nearly vaulted out of the pool. “Tom it’s time.”

“Oh goodie,” said Tom, the backup model, who flung aside the fashion magazine he had been reading and picked up his bag. “Let’s blow this boring, hetro shoot and have fun.”

“But you can’t run out in the middle of a shoot!” protested Joel. “Give me a couple more hours of hetro.”

“No, no I can’t do it any longer,” said Mason, “give me men’s fashion shoots only, sweetie.”

“I won’t give you anything if you run out on me now,” retorted Joel.

Mason grabbed his bag.

“Hey, we’re meant to be getting passionate here,” said Meghan, indignantly from the pool

“Sorry Meg,” said Mason, “Love you. I’ll call.”

“Nice to meet you Meghan,” called Tom. “We’ll send you a wedding invite.”

The happy couple dashed off together, hand in hand, followed by a stream of curses and threats from Joel which they ignored.

Meghan, still standing naked in the pool, was astonished.

“Can we get anyone else?” she finally asked Joel.

“I had Tom as backup because it’s difficult getting top models in at short notice. I never thought they’d run off with one another. Even when we get someone I’d still have to set it all up again. How long are you in LA?”

“Just another week or so and then I’ll be gone for weeks. … Say, what about Will?”

“The hunk in your living room? He’d do on one level, but he’s not pro model is he?”

“Does he need to be?” said Meghan. “For the shot you want, it’s me mostly and just a part of the guy’s body. Will’s got the body for sure. He’s former national swimming team.”

“Oh, okay,” said Joel, brightening up. “It’s worth trying, and I get a peek myself.”

A little later Will was out by the pool in his own bathers still wet from his morning swim, being appraised by Joel.

“Nice, nice,” said the photographer. “Just darken him up a little, Miranda honey, and emphasise the muscle lines on the parts that we will see.”

Eventually, Will was directed to jump in the pool and submerge fully for a second or two. Miranda flicked the hair around to give it that mussed-up, spontaneous look. The writer then got to hold Meghan.

“You’re totally naked,” exclaimed Will. “I didn’t realise.”

“Is that a problem, Mr Moreland?”

He ran his fingers gently down the side of her body, making her gasp. She liked Will’s touch. They kissed.

“Maybe it’s more of an opportunity,” said Will kissing her neck and shoulder.

“This shoot’s got a different feel,” said Joel. “I like it. This could work.”

Will and Meghan kissed. Will cupped Meghan’s left breast in his hand and gently caressed the nipple with his thumb as Violet had taught him, until Joel said, “ah guys, it’s a photoshoot.”

They broke apart, Meghan giggling. “I can feel that you’re interested,” she whispered.

“You mean there?” said Will picking her up and letting her slide down with her legs around him. She gasped, her cheek against his which is where Joel wanted it.

“That’s it, that’s good darlings,” said Joel.

“Then I could try this,” said Will moving his hand between her legs.

Meghan gasped louder, then gave a little cry.

“Oh my!” said Miranda.

Joel kept clicking away as Meghan gasped again, digging her fingers into Will’s back and pressing her body against his until she convulsed.

“You are wicked, Will Moreland,” she said, kissing his cheek repeatedly, “absolutely wicked”.

“I do have one thing to say,” said Will. “Ouch!” and he gestured at Meghan’s nails digging into his back.

“Oh sorry!” She tried rubbing the area and ended up with traces of blood on her fingers.

“You didn’t say anything,” she chided.

“Didn’t want to spoil the moment for you. It was an interesting moment.”

“It was, but you didn’t get much out of it?”

“You can make it up to me later,” he said.

“I can do that,” she said.

They kissed again, initially ignoring Joel trying to get them to separate. Miranda giggled.

“Guys, guys!” said Joel, becoming exasperated. “time to come up for air, there’s a lot to get through yet.”

Will and Meghan broke apart, laughing.

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

The image which Joel eventually chose for the campaign of Meghan, eyes closed and gasping on Will’s cheek became famous. Will saw it on a gigantic poster in New York’s Times Square, and on the cover of a book on sex in advertising and was thankful that he could not be identified from it. Unlike Meghan, he had no taste for the limelight – a preference which occasionally baffled the star but also meant there was no tension over who should take centre stage at an event. For her part, Meghan was often asked about the image, including by her mother, to whom she gave a variation of a standard response suggested by Will.

“The shoulder and arm you can see in the picture belongs to Will. What the arm and hand you can’t see was doing to me I’m not going to share with my mother but I wasn’t acting.”

When this response was passed onto the other lady members of Mrs Kowalski’s golf club it caused some chortling, with a couple of the members then asking what she thought of Will.

“I thoroughly approve of Will,” said Mrs Kowalski, “and I sometimes tell my Meaghan that but not too often as I don’t want to put any pressure on her. I don’t want to spoil things.” (In fact, Meaghan thought her mother would never shut up about Will.)

As for Joel, a potential disaster had turned into a triumph and a major boost for the brand which led to plenty more work for him, as well as industry recognition. Whenever he was asked about the shoot itself he would say that, among other results, the hetero fireworks resulted in makeup lady Miranda finally getting pregnant to her partner that night after a year of trying.

“The hardest part was separating those two afterwards,” he told friends. “I had more pics to take but would they listen to me? I even thought about turning a hose on them but they were already in a pool. It was quite the photo shoot.”

 

Will was not disappointed with the private jet (his jibe against Connie Leighton now ancient history), which was certainly more comfortable for the long journey involved – four hours to Hawaii and another eleven to the Eastern Australian coast – than a commercial flight. However, the pilot had more time to spend with his passengers which mostly involved talking to Meghan while ignoring everyone else. To the star’s amusement, her new boyfriend paid no attention to this byplay – Will having already decided that the best way to deal with Meghan’s swarms of admirers was to ignore than entirely unless the star gave the distress signal. Instead the writer read a thriller he had brought with him and, as he told Meghan later, wondered about writing a thriller himself.

The hotel close to the main drag of the area known as Surfers Paradise, south of the major city of Brisbane, was also an eye opener. But after a night’s cuddling, Meghan had to get up early to work on the shoot itself at the nearby full studio complex. She returned after the first day to say that director Paolo Amato was “mad” and a “monster”.

“Thought there might be problems,” said Will. “You’d think that a romance filled with hot bodies set during a volleyball competition would be fun. I mean you need a story but it’s not the stuff of industry awards. Why make life difficult over it?”

“Will, I agree,” said Meghan. “Now let’s forget it. I want to check out the hotel restaurant for dinner tonight.”

The next day Will was busy writing the final chapters of his third instalment of the Stellar Ranger series, which was starting to attract readers, when his phone rang.

“Will Moreland?” said a female Australian voice. “Can you come to the Volley shoot?”

“Me? Is Meghan, I mean Clarise Chalmers alright?”

“She’s fine, sir. It’s your expertise that’s required.”

“My expertise?” said Will. “In what?”

“Swimming sir, and can you bring your swimming gear, your bathers?”

After Will had ubered out to the studio complex, an assistant led Will to a tank with one end set up as a swimming pool, with the addition of a ten metre (about thirty foot) high, wooden diving platform, stabilised with wires.

Here he was confronted by director Amato, a short squad, red-faced man who reminded Will of an angry red toad, and one of the female stars of the film in a white bikini which showcased the face, figure and long dark hair of a goddess or, more practically, one worthy of the cover of the Sports Illustrated magazine annual swimsuit edition. A handful of film assistants clustered around.

“She won’t dive,” said Amato, his voice slightly accented. “She said she could dive but she cannot. I need you to teach her to dive.”

The girl, arms folded, looked deeply upset.

“You mean from up there?” said Will, pointing in astonishment at the platform, “but it’s ten metres, yes?”

One of the assistants, dressed only in bathers who proved to be the leader of the lifeguards hired for the film, nodded vigorously. “Yep, ten.”

“Mr Amato, it doesn’t even have a hand rail,” said Will. “That dive would be hard enough for an Olympian, and when Ms … um..”

“Lauren,” said the goddess.

“Lauren here was asked if she could dive she thought that meant jumping from a suburban backyard diving board, right?”

Lauren nodded.

“Not from ten metres. You’d have trouble getting a civilian to even jump from that height, let alone dive. Why not get a stunt woman to do it? Why Lauren?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” said the lead lifeguard.

“It’s about authenticity,” spat Amato. “I want the camera on her, on her figure, all the way down, in slow motion, then she has to lose her top in the pool.”

“Really?” Will fought off an urge to laugh. Lauren losing her top in the pool would be interesting, any guy would admit, but there were still problems. “Whatever happens at the end of the dive, Mr Amato, if you want a civilian to dive realistically from ten metres you have to tell them, I dunno, a year in advance so they can practice. At this short notice best you could manage is for a couple of the lifeguards here to throw her off head first…”

Several of the group chuckled.

“Hey!” said Lauren, although she was also amused.

“.. But I don’t think that’s going to get the effect you’re looking for. As it is, that’s not so much a platform you’ve got there but a health and safety issue, especially for an untrained diver. At the least, the insurance guys will be asking questions.” At the mention of ‘insurance’ Amato, who looked as if he was going to explode, visibly deflated. “Why ten metres anyway? Why not three metres and CGI it?”

“How much is three metres?” asked Lauren anxiously.

Will extended his arm above his head.

“Well, okay,” she said timorously, “I could try.”

“Can we do that?” Amato asked of a heavily tattooed long haired man in shorts, singlet and sandals who had been standing to one side. Will thought he looked like a middle-aged surfer who had wandered onto the set, but he was the film’s photographic director.

“I’ll talk with the effects guys,” said the photographic director. He had a South African accent. “If she dives from a couple of metres up realistically we should be able to work something.”

“What about that platform over there?” said Will, pointing to a broad wooden structure with a ladder leading up to it that seemed to have been pushed to one side. “That’s what, two and a half?”

“About that,” said the Aussie lifeguard.

“Get rid of the ten metres,” said Will, “and fix that here. Is it high enough?”

“May do,” said the photographic director, who was called Hamilton, “but I gotta ask.”

“I think it’s adjustable anyway,” said Will. He turned to Amato. “If you want me to get Lauren here to dive then I can spare a day or so to coach her. It’s not mainly what I was trained in but we’re not talking competition standard here. One of the lifeguards could do it.”

The director muttered and stamped his feet and then growled “you do it”. He spoke to an assistant. “Put him on payroll for two days.” Then snarled at Lauren. “You should know how to dive.”

The star started visibly.

“Mr Amato this isn’t helping,” said Will.

“We’ve got other scenes set up at the second tank,” said Hamilton.

Amato stalked off.

The photographic director stayed behind for a moment. “Good you stood up to him. He’s crazy but he can be argued with, sometimes.” He left.

“I’ve been telling him all that stuff,” said the Aussie lifeguard. “Ms Chalmers was saying you were US national team for a while.”

“I was,” said Will, “but not for very long. Swimming stopped being fun when I was on it.”

The lifeguard also departed. The assistant took Will’s details and left, finally leaving the writer alone with bikini goddess Lauren.

“You’re here with Clarise?” she said.

“Staying with her and I also work for her,” said Will. “This is an unexpected development.”

“I have a confession to make, I can’t dive at all.”

“You have a problem with diving or just never tried it?”

“Never really tried it. If I wanted to get into a pool I’ve just jumped in. Diving is something guys do.”

In fact, Lauren was a fun-loving, good natured mid-western girl who had not seen a beach until she sent in an audition tape to Sports Illustrated and got packed off to the Turks and Caicos Islands near Haiti and the Dominion Republic for her rookie photo shoot for the swimsuit issue. Then an agent discovered that, with a little training, Lauren could act well enough for movies and managed to get her the role of the movie’s bad girl who wants to steal the boyfriend of Meghan’s character, thereby upsetting her sufficiently to handicap the star’s national volleyball championship team. As all those involved in the film agreed it was not Shakespeare.

“Diving is like jumping just head first,” said Will. “Let’s start small and try from the side of the pool first.”

“Here?”

“Yep! If that’s too high, crouch down and roll forward. Put on goggles. We’ll be here a little while.”

By the time Meghan came by with Mia during a pause in the shooting on the second tank, to see what was happening with her boyfriend and the bikini goddess, Lauren had progressed to reasonably graceful dives off a pool-side plastic chair held steady by Will.

“Hi Clarise, Mia,” said Lauren, cheerfully, when she resurfaced. “Will’s really been helping me.”

Will told Meghan what happened. “You’re right about your director – he’s crazy.”

“Don’t get me started on him,” she said.

By that time a crew of Australian film hands had cleared away the ten metre diving board and replaced it with the much broader and far lower platform that Will had requested, although that last part of the work seemed to take longer than strictly necessary with the crew doing their best to check out Lauren as she dived, without seeming to check her out. When Meghan arrived, still wearing the black bikini she would have on for most of the film and a token filmy shirt to indicate she was off duty, however, they forgot what they were doing to the point of almost allowing the platform to fall into the pool right top off Lauren. Will had to intervene.

“Concentrate guys,” he said, grabbing the platform before it toppled. They pushed it upright and into place so that the lip jutted out over the water. “Tell you what, anchor this properly and hang around for a minute or two. We’ll need an audience to cheer Lauren on cue.”

That made them finish the job.

“Now Lauren,” said Will. “While we’ve got people watching let’s try the higher platform. The one you have to dive from.”

“Hmmmm! Well, okay.”

Will led the way up the ladder and onto the platform. The pool’s surface did not seem so far away as it would have for a ten metre dive, but it was still far enough for someone not used to diving.

“Everyone has to cheer Lauren when she dives,” declared Will. “Lauren, it doesn’t have to be pretty the first time just head first and arms extended as you were doing. We’ll work on style later. For the moment it’s about diving.”

“I’m meant to dive?” she said eyeing the water.

Will was not aware, until the film was being assembled in its final form, that the second unit’s camera at the far end of the pool had zoomed in on himself and Lauren as he coached her, and a directional microphone had been aimed at them.

“That’s right you’re diving,” said Will. “Remember you’re the evil person of the film.”

“Right! Right! I’m evil,” said Lauren, uncertainly.

“You’re trying to steal a rival’s boyfriend; you tell girlfriends that they’re fat.”

“I do?” said Lauren, looking at Will in astonishment, “that’s… that’s really evil.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re an evil person who wants to win the volleyball championship for her team by nasty tricks while telling girlfriends that they’re fat.”

“You’re right I’m evil,” said Lauren more determinedly, getting ready to dive.

“And do you know what evil people do?” said Will, raising his arms in his best imitation of a television evangelist inspiring a congregation, “they dive”.

“You’re right, they dive.” Then with a decidedly un-evil squeal, Lauren launched herself forward and went into the water, more or less head-first with her arms out. The scratch audience cheered. Will laughed.

“What a business,” he said.

The scene was later put into the credits, with Will’s reluctant agreement, along with a subtitle saying who Will was and that Lauren was learning to dive for the film, along with a couple of other outtakes to give the quite erroneous impression that the cast and crew had a lot of fun while making the movie, instead of the miserable reality of dealing with a monster of a director.

Two days of coaching became five days of work including messing around with bikini tops to make them come off with apparent spontaneity after a dive. Even for a strapless top the procedures proved far from simple, at least not for the effect that the mercurial Amato wanted, but eventually they succeeded.

“I’m sure you’ll understand when I say this,” said Will to Lauren, as they collapsed by the side of the pool after Amato finally declared himself to be satisfied, “but I’m so over getting your top off in a pool.”

Hamilton and the first assistant director, Hans, a tall, blonde, Aryan-type with whom he had bonded over a mutual dislike of Amato also collapsed nearby and nodded sadly.

“Will I do understand,” said Lauren. “I’ll say right here that I’m scarred by all of this. When I meet the guy of my dreams and he wants to take my top off, I’m going to have this bad reaction and reject him out of hand. My love life is ruined.”

This was passed onto Meghan who offered to help Will heal by letting him take her top off which he did. The by-play also resulted in Meghan being questioned about Will by Lauren and a stuntwoman while they were waiting for one of the volleyball scenes to be set up.

“What us single girls want to know, Ms Chalmers,” said the stuntwoman, “is where did you meet Will?”

“Yeah,” said Lauren. “Will’s sweet, helpful and fun to work with, not to mention tall and hot. He also seems supportive. He’s with you in the hotel. You don’t get many guys like that on the dating scene.”

“We met as plus ones for other people in a Hollywood bar,” said Meghan, amused, “and I rang him the next day, ‘cause he made comments about things that were causing me trouble at the time and I wanted to hire him as a consultant. But I was so down on telling him that I was not romantically interested in him he wouldn't even comment on what I was wearing for months. I was with Robin Hawke at the time.”

“Who proved to be a total jerk,” said Lauren.

“Yep,” said Meghan. “Anyway Will was around for months before anything happened, and he’s still working for me. He also does his own stuff, but a lot of that’s writing which he can do anywhere.”

“Maybe I can hire a boyfriend?” said Lauren. “Are they expensive?”

“Not Will. Robin cost me a lot of money until I stopped investing in his crazy schemes.”

That week Meghan and Will went to one of Surfers Paradise’s top restaurants with Hans and his partner, a pretty English girl and aspiring actress Ella who was visiting Hans for a few days and was over-awed to meet Clarise Chalmers.

“You know, the other girls on the film want to have Will’s babies,” said Meghan, over dinner.

“Yeah, right, that’s what they say,” said Will. “I’ve been down that road before and it’s all female bravado. If I try doing anything about this talk, it’d be ‘you animal!’ ‘What’s the problem,’ I’d say. Then they’d say, ‘Why don’t you talk to me first.’”

“Yeah, talking,” said Ella.

“We’d been talking all evening. So I’d say, ‘what did you want me to do, bring a thesaurus’, then I’d do something really crass like look at my watch. Which I can say, right here, does seem to be a mood killer for the girl.”

“Oh you didn’t look at your watch, Will,” said Meghan, giggling.

“There are time and achievement goals to be met,” said Will.

“A guy has a schedule to keep,” said Hans.

With such idle conversation, a discussion of the rich saga of getting Lauren to lose her top in the pool plus some bagging of Amato, the evening passed pleasantly enough. On the weekend Will and Meghan drove up to Brisbane and wandered around the state capital’s central business district with a local bodyguard in discreet attendance. Meghan was recognised but the locals mostly contended themselves with waving and asking for the occasional selfie. A news photographer also turned up and caught Will in the background, although he was labelled as entourage. One result of this was that Will’s mother, Mrs Isla Moreland, called to find out why her son, whom she had not heard from for some weeks, was in Australia.

“Why did Clarise Chalmers drag you all the way over there?” she said. “I thought you were just one of a big staff.”

“Sometimes she brings people so she can push them around,” said Will, who was not ready to tell his own family about recent developments, “and I ended up helping out with the film.”

This led to an explanation of the saga of Lauren’s top which amused Mrs Moreland, and the revelation that Will was a sort of fashion brand liaison for the star made her laugh outright. In all, she was sufficiently diverted not to probe any further about what Will was doing in Australia, although she later thought that she was not being told everything. A few days after that, Amato’s antics led to one of the assistant directors walking out and Will was reluctantly dragged back to the project.

“Do you know what an assistant director does, Will?” asked Hans, doing his best to be stern.

“He slavishly obeys the first assistant director and the photographic director?” guessed Will.

“His answer works for me,” said Hamilton.

As it happened on that project, Will’s job as a very junior assistant – he ranked under Jake – was mainly about rounding up the film’s male and female volleyball teams, herding them towards the make-up people and then onto the sand courts. This occasionally included Meghan who had to be coached in volleyball, this time by sport champions, although a stunt double was used for any shot that required skill. Will, who had played the sport, was of some assistance in dramatising the shots, and often interceded with Amato when he started bullying cast members. His efforts, appreciated by the cast members, were helped by the fact that he didn’t care if he was sacked.

In the midst of this, Meghan was scheduled to shoot a steamy sex scene with her screen boyfriend, hunky Czech swimming star Jakub Beran, as they reconciled following the attempted seduction by Lauren’s character. All the cast girls were drooling over Jakub, who was engaged to a beautiful Czech model, but the guys who knew him detested the star as an arrogant piece of work. Will had wondered how he could cope with seeing Meghan at least semi-naked in bed with Jakub. However, Meghan solved the dilemma by banning Will from the set for those scenes.

“I have to concentrate on acting passionate and I can’t do that with you around,” she said. “Not after you ambushed me in the pool that time. You’d be too distracting.”

Will suspected that he was being given a compliment but that still meant he was free for a day or so and was happy to take up an invitation from Lauren, and minor co-stars, Christian and Molly who were not needed on the set that day, to mess about in Surfers Paradise proper which included a visit to a video arcade, and its competitive driving machines, lunch and checking out a beach side street market.

Molly happened to tell Mia about this idle, fun day who told Meghan on her way back from the shoot. The star then asked Will about his day on the town.

“Sure, while you’ve been getting passionate with your hunky screen boyfriend, I’ve been hanging out with some friends,” said Will. “You banned me from the set, remember?”

“Those scenes are a pain to do,” said Meghan. “I’ve been slaving away on set, not even getting topless this time, while you’ve been ignoring my work in favour of having lunch with my hot co-stars.”

“As a group, sure, along with Christian who has an interest in Lauren. The girls helped me in one way, however, by choosing a pendant for you from a market.” Will produced the pendant for Meghan to inspect. “It’s a keepsake. A couple of years from now when you’re going through your jewellery and find this, you’ll ask Mia about it and she’ll say, ‘don’t you remember, that writer you dated for a while gave it to you before you fell in love with a hunky co-star’. And you’ll say, ‘oh yes, now what was his name?’”

“That’s terrible dialogue Will,” said Meghan. “I would never say such things. But it is sweet, put it on.”

“You might thank Molly and Lauren who consulted extensively on the choice,” said Will, as he hung it around her neck, “and remember it has another use. When you’re disgusted with me for whatever reason, you can rip it off and fling it at me. That’s more dramatic than simply firing me. It’s a multi-use object.”

Meghan, who had been given diamonds by admirers, often wore the pendant when she was not being a super star, telling friends and her mother who commented on the “sweet pendant” that Will had bought it for her as a keepsake – an explanation which Mrs Kowalski noted with interest.

In the meantime, Meghan having been mollified by the pendant she and Will settled down for their routine of taking dinner in. This meant that Meghan would eat a bowl of a salad kit sold through the supermarkets which Will mixed for her, plus pieces from the takeaway meal which Will ordered through the hotel in preference to the room service menu.

To eat this they pulled a sofa cushion onto the floor in front of the television and sat on that, Will with his back to the couch and Meghan sitting between Will’s legs and leaning back on him, while they watched a streaming service movie.

Will tempted Meghan with chicken nuggets.

“You are evil, Will Moreland! Evil!” she said, as she took one. “I want to try that other sauce please…”

The doorbell rang.

“Are we expecting anyone?”

Meghan shook her head. Will got up and opened the door to find Meghan’s co-star Jakob outside, holding flowers. His face fell when he saw Will.

“I thought this is Clarise’s room – Will is it,” said the star. His English was excellent, although he still spoke with a slight accent.

“It is her suite as well as mine,” said Will, then called “Meghan honey! Someone for you.”

Meghan came to the door.

“Jakob, what are you doing here?” she said. “There were no plans to meet.”

“I just thought,” said Jakob, giving her the flowers, “that we sort of connected today.”

“Did you give him your room number?” asked Will of Meghan.

“No, I never give the room number unless necessary.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Will, then turned back to Jakob. “So how did you get the room number?”

Despite his colossal ego, the star was beginning to realise he’d completely misread Meghan’s attitude to him.

“One of my staff got it. He might have paid someone ...”

“I see,” said Will, putting his arm around Meghan to remove any doubt about the relationship between them.

“I did not know you two were together,” Jakob said.

“Maybe it’s not generally known,” said Will. In fact, the connection was well known but Jakob had managed to completely miss all the gossip and failed to take the basic precaution of checking with someone, anyone, beforehand about his co-star’s availability.

“Can we ... offer you coffee?” said Meghan, flustered.

“We were just in the middle of dinner, and Mr Beran does not have an appointment,” said Will firmly. “Go back to the film, I’ll be there in a moment.”

After Meghan had left Will said, “there’s no need for anyone to refer to this meeting ever again or say anything about it.” Jakob nodded. “And we can all meet later as good friends.” The star nodded again. “In the meantime perhaps you could spend this evening catching up with friends. Maybe you could call your fiancé? I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

With that, Will closed the door gently and went back to dinner. He later told Meghan that she, especially, should not offer unexpected visitors coffee like that, whether she knew them or not.

“Guys are basically evil and will take advantage,” he said. “If they turn up unexpectedly don’t offer them coffee and don’t invite them in.”

Meghan, however, barely listened.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

When the time came to fly back from Australia to the US and immediately on to a location in the Canadian forests for Meghan’s role as an Alien trying to rescue her brother from imprisonment on Earth, the star and her entourage did so on a full-sized commercial jet. The producers had done a deal with a concert tour promoter to hire an aircraft known as an Airbus A-380-800 to bring back the US members of Volley’s cast and crew along with the personnel of a major band tour, plus the US members of a live musical remake of a popular film – a form of entertainment Will never understood.

This meant Meghan and Will sat together in two first class seats, in which it was possible to sleep while Mia and Jake made do with a still comfortable plus economy seat further back in the plane. An advantage of this arrangement was that the journey back promised to be considerably livelier than the trip in the private jet. There were disadvantages, however, one of which Will discovered when he came back to his seat after a visit to the bathroom to find the world-famous rock musician Bo Benjamin in his seat, fresh from his Australian tour, talking animatedly with Meghan.

“Another one,” he thought.

Will had never cared for the man’s music, but a lot of people did. Bo Benjamin had more gold grammies and hit songs to his credit than most people had hot dinners in a month. Although the singer’s hits were now less frequent and his many years on top were beginning to tell in the erosion of stunning looks that mesmerised teenage girls everywhere, and a slight greying of his flowing dark hair. Despite his years, Benjamin maintained a figure that allowed him to get away with wearing black leather pants and a black shirt with a short, black jacket. Okay, he was a rocker, Will got it. But the rocker was in his seat.

“Pardon me, Mr Benjamin..” he said.

“No autographs,” said the singer, and went back to talking to Meghan.

“But it’s Will’s seat,” she said.

“Huh!” said Benjamin, but he did not look around.

The singer’s bodyguard – a man so large that his head seemed to brush the cabin roof - who had been standing back, got involved. “Step back, sir. No autographs.”

“Your boss is in my seat,” said Will. This made the bodyguard pause. He leant forward and spoke over the singer. “Meg, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh yes, Bo this is my friend Will.”

Benjamin finally looked around. “I’m talking to Clarise here,” he said, but before he could stop himself he took the hand Will offered to him. The writer gripped that hand, firmly grabbed Benjamin’s shoulder with his other hand, ignored the musician’s squawk of “no touching man”, and bodily pulled the rocker out of his seat, turning him so that the singer’s back was to his bodyguard who was about to intervene.

“If you want to keep talking to your friend, Meghan,” said Will. “Why not sit in this seat. I’ll take yours.”

Meghan, taken aback and somewhat amused by Will’s actions, nodded and smiled.

“Incidentally, what happened to my computer?”

This was not a laptop but a more powerful system with a separate processor box which was still light and compact enough to be carried in Will’s shoulder bag. He had left it set up on his serving tray.

“In here, sir,” said the bodyguard and he opened an overhead locker, while Bo Benjamin looked on in baffled disapproval.

Will glared at the bodyguard just as one of the attendants came up.

“Is everything alright here?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine,” said Will. “Just some confusion. Mr Benjamin was getting out of my seat and giving me back my computer, which was taken away for some reason.”

The attendant left and Will set himself up again in Meghan’s seat, doing his best to ignore the conversation between his girlfriend and a rock star. He had some work to finish off, both his and Meghan’s, before the in-flight dinner. After a few minutes, Meghan turned to him.

“They’re having a gathering down by one of the coffee areas,” she said. “Some of the headliners I’d like to meet. Do you want to come?”

“They don’t want to talk to me at all,” Will said. “And that Benjamin guy might be sore at me. You go and I’ll finish off some work here. Tell you what…” He called to a passing hostess. “Excuse me, when is dinner to be served?”

“About an hour, sir.”

“Okay come back in an hour. I will insist on dinner together.”

“Sure,” she said cheerfully and left.

All Will knew of the party was the hum of conversation and occasional laughter which he found easy to ignore. About half an hour later, after he had just about finished all that had to be done, the same attendant who had asked if everything was alright before, a pretty girl with short, dark hair, came to his seat.

“Excuse me, sir,” she whispered. “Ms Chalmers has asked that you come and get her. I think she’s feeling uncomfortable with the company she has.”

“Oh right,” said Will, dumping the computer on his seat and getting out. He found a merry party behind the port side window row of seats but with Meg firmly wedged between Benjamin and another of the singer’s band members. Will thought he was the drummer. The bodyguard tried to head him off but Will side stepped, called “Meg” and held out his hand.

“My ride,” said Meghan, grabbing Will’s hand.

The writer pulled and, with some effort Meghan came free. The writer realised that both men had their arms around Meghan.

“Gentlemen, groping is for old men,” said Will and turned, ignoring a decidedly unfriendly response from the drummer.

“Lauren!” he said, spotting the film co-star “and, thank heaven, you have your top on”.

Lauren rolled her eyes, “I’m never going to live that down am I?”

“Don’t worry, I can keep the references up for years yet,” said Will. “Meghan, say goodbye to the nice gentlemen.”

“Goodbye nice gentlemen.”

As they walked off, Will heard someone say, “you didn’t tell me her boyfriend was on the plane”.

“They’ve been sitting together the whole trip,” said a woman’s voice. “And it was obvious she asked that attendant to tell him to come and get her.”

“Why did you need me to drag you out from the two gropers?” asked Will as they walked back, holding hands. “You could have told them to stop it and levered yourself out.”

“Bo is still a major celebrity, bigger than me, and I didn’t want to cause any direct offence.”

“Better to have your horrible boyfriend do the jealous thing and drag you away, instead of making it clear you can’t stand his arse.”

She nodded.

“It is better to be clear about this and tell him he’s a filthy groper, rather than have him maintain illusions,” said Will. “He’s a guy, he’s hopeful.”

She shrugged and half smiled. “We did have a connection once.”

“With Benjamin?”

Meghan nodded. “A few years back before I was famous, and it didn’t last very long. I didn’t plan it but the connection also helped boost my image back then.”

“I’d have preferred not to have been told that I think,” said Will. “But no matter. Would I have liked any of your past boyfriends?”

“Maybe the one in college who got me to watch the Star Wars films.”

“Ah, yes! I must meet him sometime so we can compare notes.”

“What would you compare notes about?” asked Meghan, raising one eyebrow.

“The Star Wars film franchise of course,” said Will, in mock surprise. “Heaps of material is still being produced. What else would we talk about?”

Meghan rolled her eyes but had to laugh and was even impressed. Will had extricated her without causing a scene and, instead of becoming jealous over ex-boyfriends, had provided her with an amusing story. She could tell friends and her mother about Will comparing notes on Star Wars with her college boyfriend instead of her, complete with rolling of eyes. Will was considerably easier to deal with than many other men she had known, she decided. Although the writer did not know it, high above the Pacific, he had passed a test.

 

A few hours later Will was dozing in his seat with Meghan asleep, curled up so that her head was on a pillow on his shoulder, clutching his arm – a comforting way to sleep on a plane, she had found - covered by a single airline blanket. Will woke to find Benjamin’s giant bodyguard leaning over him, about to shake Meghan awake.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he whispered indignantly, pushing the man’s hand away. The rest of the plane was also sleeping.

The bodyguard drew back.

“The boss wanted to invite Ms Chalmers to a party.”

“What now?”

“No, his hotel in New York, when we land.”

“We’re going straight onto a shoot in Canada. I will inform Ms Chalmers when she wakes up. Here..” with difficulty, Will took out his wallet while trying not to disturb Meghan and extracted a business card “.. that’s the only contact number I can give out. Send a text, I’ll make sure she gets it. Now go away.”

The bodyguard duly vanished.

When Meghan awoke and was told of the night’s adventures she regretted having to miss out on the party in a way that made Will apprehensive, but then he thought that with any luck he would not see Benjamin again.

For the shoot in Canada, rather than take everyone back to hotels each night, the producers opted for a small town of caravans and motorhomes with catered meals. Every day most of the population of this small town would disappear into the surrounding forest leaving Will and assorted hangers-on, mostly the female partners of the cast and crew to their own devices.

Will had to politely decline some of the activities these other hangers-on got up to in order to get his own work done, but went on a few walks of exploration and got involved in games of Monopoly. Although he had breakfast with Meghan, when everyone arrived back from the day’s shooting she was often so surrounded by men that Will did not try to join her for dinner. Instead, he ignored men flirting with Meghan, as he now always did to the star’s amusement in favour of activities with new friends among the cast, crew and partners of the trailer-park city.

One day, when the star was chatting with the various men paying court to her she looked over to see Will in some sort of game with those other . One man would approach three girls and say something, and the girls would then each hold up a card with a number on it.

“What were you doing with the others at dinner?” she asked Will when they got back to their own luxury caravan.

“I organised a game of pick-up. The guys had to approach a panel of three girls and hand them a line as if he was trying to pick them up at a bar. They’d then give him a score – one to ten for each girl. A way to pass the time.”

“I see,” said Meghan. “Wait, I saw you approach them too – what was your pick up line, Will Moreland?”

“I said, ‘excuse me, ladies, can you settle a discussion I’m having with some friends. In the Harry Potter series should Hermione have ended up with Ron, or should she have married Harry?’”

“Hmmm – have you ever actually used that line?”

“Picking up girls in bars is not my style, but I figure that even if the girls aren’t interested or waiting for boyfriends or whatever, they might at least reply. A lot of girls say Hermione should have connected with Harry. Anyway, it got me a twenty two out of thirty.”

“Did anyone get better?”

“That co-star of yours Michael Mellon, big, pretty and famous. He went in there and said ‘hey’ and they all gave him ten out of ten. There I am working my butt off to think of something interesting to say, and he rocks up and says ‘hey’ and he gets a better score.”

“Yeah,” said Meghan, laughing, “who cares what they say provided they look good – even if Hermione should have married Harry.”

While he was in Canada, Will was called by what might generously be called his own agent – an offsider of Stella Bullingham. Meghan’s agent was now doing well enough to afford an office suite and hire apprentices, one of whom negotiated the pay for Will’s stint as an assistant director with the producers of Volley as something ‘easy’ for her to do. Now this apprentice agent, Sage, asked Will if had any of the video files from the film.

“I haven’t got any of the files myself. Why? What do you need them for?”

“There’s been a huge problem, the director Mr Amato deleted them all just before he was murdered…”

“What? Murdered? Personally, I’m not surprised but when was this? Do the police know who did it?”

“Body discovered this morning. The word on the gossip sites is that he was shot by his girlfriend’s husband,” said Sage.

Will laughed. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “It’s not right to laugh over someone’s death and I’m sorry for his family and all that, but I detested the man. And now the producers can’t find the video files of this film they’ve got so many millions invested in?”

“Amato deleted all the files and all the backups saying that the project was an artistic crime,” said Sage.

“For once I agree with the man,” said Will. “The film is trash but it’s the sort of trash that makes people pay for theatre tickets, so I also see the producers’ point of view. Why don’t they try the site office in Australia? I seem to recall they had a policy of backing up everything.”

That comment resulted in Will spending some more time on the phone – at least the remote site had cell phone coverage - tracking down the site office manager in Australia, with whom he had some dealings, and then telling a relieved executive at the producer’s office that a copy of the video files for Volley still existed. As Hans was next in chain of directorial command, Will suggested that they give the job of editing and post-production to him, and thought no more about it. He did not see himself as an assistant director, but as a writer, preferably of trashy military SF, although he was increasingly being diverted from that path.

They finally left Canada and arrived back at Meghan-HQ after many weeks away. The housekeeper’s cat looked up from its usual position, laid out on a pool-side table, gave a plaintive “miaow” and went back to sleep.

“A rousing reception,” said Will.

The return to Meghan-HQ also raised the delicate question of whether Will should continue to rent his shared cockroach-central apartment or just stay with Meghan. Was that going too far, too soon?”

“It’s no business of mine if you have a room somewhere else, Mr Moreland,” said Meghan when Will mentioned this.

“Will I be allowed to put clothes in your wardrobe?” said Will. “There doesn’t seem to be a lot of space.”

In fact Meghan’s walk-in closet was bursting with clothes shoes and accessories.

“I can’t help where you put your clothes,” said Meghan, apparently determined to be difficult about this matter.

“What about my toothbrush? Is it allowed in the holder in your en-suite?”

“Now you’re bothering me about toothbrushes. An international star does not consider other people’s toothbrushes.”

“She does if it’s a man’s toothbrush in her en-suite.”

“Your toothbrushes are your concern, Mr Moreland.”

“Okay, let’s try it this way, suppose that it was there. Would you ask me to take it away or would you throw it into the trash?”

“It depends on the toothbrush,” said Meghan. “If it’s still in good condition why would I throw it away? Anyway, I just said it’s your concern where your toothbrush happens to be.”

“Then I can stop paying rent elsewhere and move in?”

Mia, who was close by, thought that Will needed some help. As she was sitting where Will could see her but the star could not, Mia nodded and gave the thumbs up. When Meghan noticed Will glancing over her shoulder and looked around, Mia abruptly busied herself with her laptop.

“Then moving here is seen as a cost saving on your part?” said Meghan settling back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“I can always pay rent here. I don’t want you to think of me as a freeloader.”

“Renting here is expensive.”

“That’s true,” said Will.

“You were lecturing me a while back about the rate of return on assets. This is an expensive piece of real estate. Rents also have to be set accordingly.”

“That’s also true, but if my expenses increase then I’d have to ask for a raise to cover the cost.”

“Hmmm!”

“In fact, why don’t you increase my pay enough to cover the rent and then deduct that amount before it gets to my account. I live here and get paid the same?”

Mia stifled a laugh; Meghan tried not to smile. Will said goodbye to his roomies, much to Pandora’s regret that she had been unable to snag Will for one of her single girlfriends and moved his belongings to Meghan’s house. By buying a large shoe rack to organise the star’s shoes he found a little space in her closet to put a small chest of draws. Hanging space was more difficult but Meghan eventually condescended to shift some clothes around to free up space, with the overflow going to a wardrobe in one of the spare bedrooms along with Will’s books. Prowling through this collection when Will was not there, Meghan found a naval uniform which she thought for a moment must be a film costume. Then she saw a scuba diving air tank and gear and recollected Will was in the navy reserve, attended weekly parades when he could and was talking about going on course for deep diving, whatever that was.

Life went on. Hans called to say that a few segments of Volley had not survived Amato’s purge and that, in any case, the film was not complete.

“Please tell me that Lauren’s pool shot survived,” said Will.

“First thing I checked and yes, it’s good,” said Hans. “Now we just need a film to go with that scene.”

After some discussion, they put together a pitch to the film’s producers to finish the film relatively cheaply using a back lot in LA and, as Will put it, “CGIing the shit out of it” to fit with the beach and interior scenes shot on a different continent. That meant Will was back to being an assistant director, but this time returning to Meghan’s house each day. From there he moved on to the main shoot for Party Town Terror, which had now grown to something like the size required for a film, with makeup and costume people, people paid to worry about continuity in the shots and sound quality and others who moved props and background screens. There was even a director of photography who, like Hamilton on Volley, looked like an aging surfer who had wandered onto the set.

Then there were the principals, including Danni, with sunglasses-wearing bodyguard in tow, who wanted to know if Clarise was still angry with Will for not doing what she wanted.

“There have been developments since then,” said Will.

“I heard that you’re now not just staff who happens to use the pool,” she said.

“Well, no, Clarise seems to have suffered a lapse of judgment.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t see it as a lapse,” said Danni, “but I like that you’re not boasting – is she in town?”

“For now, but she’ll be doing scenes for another spy thriller in Miami soon. I’ll join her after this. How is your friend Mr Scranton doing? I see he’s still providing bodyguards.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask. He wants control of everything and it’s annoying.”

Will and Meghan attended the premiere performance of New York Mystery in New York, Los Angeles and London although Will did not feature in any of the publicity shots or red carpet walks, despite efforts by Meghan to get him into the limelight. The production process for the film might have been painful, if not fraught, but the film was successful enough for the premiers to get some publicity.

To Will’s surprise, Meghan agreed to attend a barbecue at Buck and Wilma’s place, which included Hap as well as Will’s former roommates Leo and Pan. Even more surprising, as far as Will was concerned, was that she got on well with this Comic Con type crowd who were over-awed at having a famous star in their midst. She bonded with Wilma, in particular, by sharing stories about Will. Later Wilma took Will to the garage office of Buckland Publishing to show him sketches she had done of children flying around in spaceships that were actually cardboard cartons.

“I figure they are playing at being spacemen and spacewomen with the cartons as their spaceships. I was thinking of turning these into a kid’s picture book but I need a story – words to go with the drawings.”

“Hmmm!” said Will. “You’re looking for a few hundred words tops that can be read as a bedtime story, right?”

“Yeah, bedtime,” said Wilma.

“Okay, I’ll think. How hard can it be?”

“What about you and Clarise Chalmers?” she said. “You’re living at her place now? How is that going?”

“Seems to be okay.”

“You going to buy another ring?”

“After what happened with Vi I’m a cautious man. I’d want to be sure of my ground before I do anything like that.”

“That’s good Will,” said Wilma. “Check first, then buy rings.”

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

That Monday Meghan had to go to the Miami shoot taking Mia but without Will who was still working on Party Town Terror. Will insisted that the ladies take George who would hang around, looking menacing when they were off set. George, a consumer of thrillers, took books to read. On the first day, as Mia and Meghan were going over the schedule and aspects of Meghan’s life, including a Zoom conference with a producer after shooting, Mia announced, “final item on the agenda, Jake and I are getting married”.

“Oh wow, congratulations!” said Meghan. “That’s fantastic. When is the wedding? Will and I are invited, I hope?”

“Of course you’ll be invited,” said Mia. “I’ve already checked your schedule. It’ll be in about a month and there is a hole then.”

“A month?” said Meghan taken aback. “Taking the plunge is good but a month’s not much time to plan a wedding.”

“It’s rushed because I’m also pregnant.”

Meghan gasped. “That’s great news! That’s wonderful. I guess it’s no surprise you two were getting serious but I thought you were putting off the family thing for a while.”

“We were but we seem to have messed up the precautions, I guess. I blame Jake and Jake blames me but now that we’ve finished blaming each other the baby is still coming and we were talking about getting married anyway.”

“Maybe you can ask the baby who’s to blame? Boy or girl?”

“By the time it’s old enough to understand, we’ll have found something else to blame one another over. As for the gender thing, we’ll check when it comes.”

“Fair enough,” said Meghan. “But wait, I’ll be without an assistant for the honeymoon and then when this baby, whoever’s fault it is, comes along. Then you’ll be breast feeding and child minding.”

“Yeah, well, there is that,” said Mia. “I don’t always come with you and Emma can fill in. She knows the appointments and payments systems. Also, Will is often around now to keep you company.”

“Hmmm!”

“I can tell Emma not to mention Josh at all,” Mia said.

“That sounds better,” said Meghan.

“What about you and Will?” said Mia. “You two seem to be getting on, and he’s around way more than any of the other guys you’ve dated.”

“Maybe,” said Meghan. She had only just admitted to herself that Will was now part of her life, and maybe a part she did not want to do without.

“Have you met his parents?”

“No, I haven’t,” said Meghan. “I’m not even sure he’s told them about me.”

“That’s one of those steps in a relationship, I was talking about. He’s already met your mother and sister which is the big step. The smaller step is to meet his.”

“Hmmm!”

When Meghan told Will about Mia’s marriage and pregnancy he pointed out that Mia would want part time, or at least flexible work to fit around child care, and Meghan might be in a position to help.

“When you start ramping up your property portfolio, instead of relying on property managers you can take it in-house – do it yourself. There is also the Bad Diva brand liaison role, which is taking up more time and fashion is not really my thing.”

Meghan laughed.

“They’re talking about brands of lipsticks and I’m having real trouble faking it with lipsticks. Hand it to Emma along with the administration stuff and that’s almost a part time job. Emma can step into the assistant’s role with guidance from Mia, but you may want another hand and mix things up.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Meghan. “For now what I really want to talk about is us.”

“Us?” said Will cautiously.

“Like why I haven’t met your parents, yet?”

“Oh right … well …”

“Have you told them about me?”

“Mum suspects something’s up and Lilith has pestered me about Mum’s suspicions but that’s about it.”

“Waaaiiit - is this why you’ve been reluctant to be on the red carpet for the premiers and in the publicity shots? You’re worried they’ll find out. What is the problem here, Will Moreland? Why haven’t you told them? Am I a porno star or a low rent stripper that you can’t bring home to your family?”

“It’s certainly not that. It’s more that I’m not sure they’d believe me, and if they did Vi is not a good precedent.”

“Huh! They may think I’m some two-bit actress who runs off with any producer who can offer her a job?”

“You’re obviously more than that,” said Will, “but maybe they’ll think you’re out of my league and that you’ll dump me for a world famous rock star like Bo Benjamin.”

“Will Moreland! How dare you and they think I’d have any romantic interest in that self-absorbed pain. There was a connection when I was younger, but that was it.”

“Then there was every girl’s fantasy, Jakub Beran, who came to the door that time after you’d been doing sex scenes with him.”

“Nothing happens in those scenes. They’re a pain to do.”

“I know that,” said Will. “But Jakub thought there was a spark and came calling. It’s hard to compete with someone like him.”

“William Moreland! To think I would have anything to do with that arrogant brat! It’s insulting, and you’re selling yourself short again. We talked about this.”

“Okay, what this comes down to is that you’d like to meet my family who should be made fully aware of your existence as a partner to their darling Will.”

“And when will that be?” asked Meghan, crossing her arms.

“Soon,” said Will. “Can we wait for a time when they can’t call you a fantasy? Maybe, when we’re over in New York we can drop down to Albany?”

“Hmmm!”

Meghan decided to leave the matter at that, but then the long awaited, much anticipated beach volleyball movie Volley, hit the big screens featuring Will in the outtakes among the titles at the end urging the reluctant Lauren to dive. One immediate and surprising consequence for Will of this was a call from Violet which the writer got while sitting at Meghan’s dining table catching up with her social media site work. He had never deleted her name from his phone contacts.

“Violet?” he said. It was the first time he had heard from her since she left. He got up and went out to the pool area away from the prying ears of Emma and Mia. Meghan was on a shoot that day.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” said Violet.

“Was I supposed to call?” said Will. “In our last conversation, I was told I wasn’t part of your future and you’d been acting with me.”

“I suppose I did say that,” said Violet, “but I didn’t mean we should lose contact entirely.”

“Okay, was I supposed to call to see if you arrived safely with the guy with the beard? As it happened, I was able to follow your movements when I looked at our credit card account. That was a good hotel you stayed at the first night with … what was his name?”

“Nolan.”

“Right, Nolan. I contributed three thousand two hundred and twenty three dollars and forty three cents to your cross country holiday break with Nolan until I thought to cancel the card, including a cash withdrawal right up to the limit the day before you left.”

“Ouch!” said Violet. “Okay, that was underhand. But I heard from Evan that you didn’t mind having me on the set of that slasher movie you guys are making.”

“What I said was that I would not cause trouble over having you there. I’m just the scriptwriter and assistant director. It’s Evan who wanted you. Had you accepted I would have dealt with it. As it is the film is now mostly in post-production so there’s no issue.”

“You also got an assistant editor and script writing credit on that film Volley,” she said. “You were even in the outtakes at the end. Were you acting in that?”

“You always told me I couldn’t act. I didn’t know the camera was on me and Lauren until Hans, the guy who completed the film, showed me the scene just as it was about to go out the door to the theatres. I happened to be there when Lauren needed someone to teach her to dive, and the rest followed from that.”

“Happened to be in Australia?”

“Sure, wandering here and there as I do.”

“Were you there with Lauren?”

“No not her, although I did get to coach her in being seductive.”

“Noooo!” said Vi giggling.

“And getting her to lose her top in the pool in the way the director wanted was an ordeal, but we’re not together.”

“Were you there with someone else? Who?”

“Violet, never mind,” said Will, irritated. He now realised that she had called him to network, to see what jobs she could get. “Good to hear from you, I guess, but I’m in the middle of some other stuff I’ve got to do. No doubt we’ll run into one another around. Take care.”

He hung up, and the phone rang again almost immediately. This time it was Meghan.

“Vi called you,” she said without preliminary. Mia had heard Will say Violet’s name and had texted her boss.

“Well, yeah, she saw Volley, saw my name all over it as well as the outtake scene at the end with Lauren.”

“What did she want?”

“She was networking. The jobs I got were far above anything she has managed and she would have killed to get a part in Volley.”

“Maybe not kill,” said Meghan, “but she might have done other things to get back in your good books. Did you say you were there with me?”

“If I had told her that I would never have gotten rid of her.”

“Humph!”

“Instead we had a one-sided discussion about the money she stole from me.”

Later Will thought that despite her world-famous beauty and reputation for screen nudity, Meghan could be just as wary and suspicious of her boyfriend’s exes as any other girl. “But I was thinking that as I can’t now pretend that I’m not with the most glamorous woman in Hollywood – even if she will later dump me for someone younger and prettier…”

“William Moreland, I will do no such thing. If I’m going to dump you it’ll be because you’re a cheating hound.”

“… I’m having a teleconference with my family tonight for my mother’s birthday …”

“It’s your mother’s birthday!” exclaimed Meghan. “Why didn’t you tell me about your mother’s birthday? I would have gotten her something. We could have even gone East for the occasion.”

“As my mother hasn’t been told that you, or anyone else, is in her son’s life she wouldn’t have been expecting anything, and your schedule is set for a couple of weeks. But this birthday is special in that mother she’s scored an appointment to the family court bench.”

“Bench?”

“A judge, she’s been appointed a family court judge in New York.”

“Why, that’s wonderful news,” said Meghan. “That’s quite an honour. If I had known that I’d have gotten my schedule rearranged and we’d have gone there. How dare you, William Moreland, for not telling me.”

“The appointment has only just been made. Anyway, come to the video conference tonight after dinner.”

“I sure will, and I’ll make a theatrical entrance. I’m in the business, after all.”

 

When Will connected to the conference call to his family that evening, sitting at Meghan’s dinner table, he was confronted by his parents, his younger brother Caden, older sister Lilith and her partner Ben, all crowded in front of the camera. Meghan was standing to one side, out of sight of Will’s camera waiting for her queue.

“William, a friend has told me that you’re in a film, coaching one of the film stars to dive,” said his mother without any preamble. “She told me the captions on the scene said you were an assistant director – and where are you calling from? That looks like a dining room. What is going on in your life young man?”

“I happened to be around when Lauren, that’s the girl in the scene, and no I’m not connected to Lauren, needed coaching in diving,” said Will. “The assistant director thing followed because the guy I replaced argued with the director and stormed off.”

“But I looked up the film and most of the production was done in Australia,” said Will’s father, a distinguished, white-haired older version of Will, who had also been a swimmer in his youth. “You happened to be in Australia?”

Meghan swung into the camera view to sit on a dining room chair beside Will, arm on his shoulder to remove any doubt about what was happening.

“That’s because Will was there with me, Morelands,” she said, cheerfully. “This is my house and my dining room. Will lives here now.”

The Moreland’s collectively gasped.

“Dude!” said Caden.

“I see,” said Mrs Moreland.

“And I’m so sorry we were not there for your birthday, Mrs Moreland, but Will only told me about it today and about the big news that you’re going to be a family court judge. Congratulations! It’s quite an honor, everyone will be very proud of you.”

Will’s mother beamed. “It means I have to give up my practice, which I will find hard, and move to New York City, which is even harder, but I couldn’t pass it up.”

“It is a huge honor, Mrs Moreland.”

“Isla, please,” said Mrs Moreland. “But you and Will is even bigger news. I knew he was working for you but I thought it was some big office and he’d met you a couple of times.”

“I don’t have many people working directly for me,” said Meghan. “Will has been my right hand for many months now, running my PR and social media and even business advice, but we’ve been an item for maybe three months. I only realised you had no idea I was in your son’s life until a few days ago, and I know more about you guys than you know about me. Let’s see, it’s Peter, Isla,” Meghan pointed at Will’s father and mother as she spoke, “Caden, Lilith and Ben, and you all call me Meghan, not Clarise – that’s a stage name I never really liked. Friends, family and staff all call me by my real name, Meghan.”

“Meghan it is,” said Isla. “I hope that my Will did not seduce you improperly, Meghan.” Mrs Moreland did her best to look stern.

“Your Will was a perfect gentleman throughout,” said Meghan. “If anything the connection was more my idea.”

“Meghan is just dallying with me for a while,” said Will. “Then she’ll cast me aside for someone younger and prettier.”

“That’s not it at all, Morelands,” said Meghan, firmly. “Lilith, I can see the trouble you had with Will always selling himself short, always self-deprecating.”

“That’s right,” said Lilith, beaming in her turn. “I was always telling him to get out there and sell himself… push.”

“I can’t believe you managed to sweet talk Lilith,” said Will after the call, “even if it was by bagging me. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone sweet talk Lilith, not even Ben.”

“She and your mother really laughed when I said you were also my Bad Diva brand liaison manager,” said Meghan, cheerfully.

“They seemed to think that I had little to offer the fashion space,” said Will. “Don’t know why they would think that.”

“It’s a mystery,” agreed Meghan, grinning.

Buoyed up by the success of the video call, Meghan thought that she would get Emma to step up into her assistant’s role, at least while Mia was on her honeymoon, on the strict understanding that she did not talk about boyfriend Josh. Emma and Will could then find someone to fill in for Emma, on trial.

It was all very simple, Meghan told herself. What could possibly go wrong?

 

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

Organising the Mia-Jake wedding at such short notice was considerably simplified by Meghan volunteering to host both the ceremony and the reception in her house and pay for the catering as her wedding present to the couple. Will was handed the gig of Master of Ceremonies, along with the job of making sure guests did not fall into the pool. There were speeches, food served at tables set outside, dancing in the dining room cleared out for the occasion to music from a hired DJ, and much else that went with a wedding.

This ceremony was also the first time either Meghan or Will had met Emma’s boyfriend, the much-storied Josh, a good-looking bar tender at one of Hollywood’s swankier hotels, and neither approved of him. Meghan found him to be sleasy, making remarks about her film scenes that she thought best not to repeat to either Emma or Will. She excused herself and walked away. Will found him to be surly and aggressive. He excused himself and walked away. They both agreed later that Emma could do better for herself but when it came time for the happy couple to leave and Mia tossed her bouquet, Emma caught it and then looked meaningfully at Josh, who looked away.

That Sunday, however, Will had to leave for his Navy deep diver training course at a navy centre in Florida without the question of an addition to Meghan’s entourage having been settled. They had gotten as far as a short list of candidates whose CVs were piled on Meghan’s desk, but the star had to go to a shoot in Canada within days, staying at a swanky hotel in Vancouver, leaving little time for employment interviews.

“The trouble is that these ladies and guys see getting on to your entourage as a major career move which includes travel and meeting big-time Hollywood celebrities,” said Will, “so they’re all impossibly well qualified for just sitting around here doing admin. Double degrees, even doctorates in the art of cinema.”

“Really?” said Meghan, “I won’t know what to talk to them about.”

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go with an agency,” said Will. “But it’s done now so pick one to hire on a per day rate like me and see if it works. If you hire a guy are you going to give him the same speech you gave me about how you have no romantic interest in him?”

“Maybe,” said Meghan, straight-faced. “Depends on what’s on offer. There may be someone cute. We could talk about art in film.”

Will sighed. “That’s great, I get warned off hard; this other guy gets hired straight away because he’s hot and never mind whether he’s any good.”

“Speaking of people being hot, are there going to be cute Navy girls on this course?” asked Meghan.

“Not many on the diver’s course but those that are ‘ll have trim figures,” said Will. “I’ll have to check them out.”

“Ha!” said Meghan

“What about security while you’re away? Are you taking George?”

“Maybe. The film site has security as does the hotel and the production company will get some ex-Canadian armed forces type for walking around if I want one,” said Meghan, “but I can walk around the streets in daylight by myself. It has been known to happen.”

“True but Toronto is too close to the US border. Be careful.”

“I always am, Mr Moreland,” said Meghan. “You’re going to join me the moment this course ends?”

“You bet! I’ll be worried about you falling for your handsome co-star.”

Meghan made a face. “He’s married and his wife will be with him.”

“He’s still a guy. That means he’s potentially evil and capable of anything. I’ll call every night.”

“You’d better, Will Moreland.”

Then Will was gone after a passionate parting scene Meghan thought would be worthy of any of her films and the house suddenly seemed empty and lonely. She told herself that the separation was just for a couple of weeks and that seeing Will again would be all the better for the temporary parting, but she had not realised, until he left, just how much Will was now a part of her life. Did he feel the same way about her? Meghan tried to put such thoughts out of her mind, including the big one about whether they would have a life together. She thought it would work but did Will think that and would he say anything?

“For heaven’s sake he hasn’t been gone one night and already you’re going crazy,” Meghan thought. She wasn’t about to call Mia on her honeymoon. In any case, her assistant was going on a walking tour of the Rockies - not hiking as Meghan understood it but walking between hotels – but that still meant that cell phone reception would be uncertain in some places.

Will called and they talked for half an hour before he had to go to some pre-course get-to-know-everyone dinner. Meghan ordered takeaways and then called Misty, who had been at the wedding, to complain about Will being absent.

Misty listened for a time then said: “now are you going to officially acknowledge that you’re in love with Will?”

Meghan sighed. She had not put it quite that way to herself but the stark fact was there. “Yes, I’m in love with Will.”

“You’re acknowledged as one of the most desirable women in Hollywood and you’ve fallen for a nerd,” Misty said.

“It’s sad isn’t it,” said Meghan, echoing Will.

“He’s a hot, sweet, easy to get on with nerd who looks good in a pool,” said Misty. “The sex side is good?”

“No complaints there.”

“What about getting jealous over all the men paying attention to you? Robin used to get jealous.”

“Will pays zero attention to other guys talking to me unless I say something, or the man is sitting in his seat,” said Meghan. “I’m filming sex scenes and I find that he’s been out to lunch with my co-stars or has organised a game of ‘pick-up’ with others.”

“That’s way more comfortable than Robin getting jealous,” said Misty, “not to mention more practical. He told me that if he started fights with every man that spoke to you he’d be fighting half of LA.”

“There is that,” said Meghan. “His way works.”

“There you go, although the fact remains that he is a nerd – a writer with strange theories about Star Wars. I got lectured about Jedi Knights at the wedding.”

“Oh Noooo!”

“You don’t want to know about the real story of the Jedi Knights.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” said the star.

“But that stuff isn’t a deal breaker,” said Misty. “If he starts talking about Star Wars you say, ‘yes dear’ and ignore him. Otherwise you two complement each other. You like the limelight; he doesn’t care for it. You make heaps of money but can get into trouble. Will helps you keep that money and fixes your troubles with a minimum of fuss.”

“Seems so,” admitted Meghan.

“Practice saying ‘yes dear’,” said Misty.

“Yes, dear.”

“Too much emotion,” said Misty. “You have to say it without being dismissive or encouraging. Try it again.”

“Yes, dear.”

“That’ll do for the moment,” said Misty, enjoying her role as relationship counsellor. “Now you’re going to have to take that extra step. You’ve had one wedding at that house; what about another?”

“Well..” said Meghan. She also had not thought in such terms, but now it seemed the obvious thing to do.

“This brings up the question of just how Will feels about you,” said Misty. “Have you two said anything to one another He bought you that keepsake, which is very sweet. But what’s been said?”

“Nothing really. He’s not a guy who talks much about that stuff.”

“Few straight guys do. But now that you’ve admitted to your own feelings, you can hint at them and see how he reacts. No need to push. You are already living together. If he doesn’t want the ceremony maybe leave it for a while. ”

“Hmmmm!”

“Or maybe just ask him to marry you?”

“I’d prefer the traditional way if I can.”

Meghan and Misty kicked around the subject of Will for a while longer before Misty said she had an early call and Meghan went off to bed wondering what Will was doing.

 

The next morning, Emma came in late, clothes dishevelled, hair a mess, mascara running, collapsed into one of Meghan’s dining chairs and sobbed into the table.

“Darling whatever is the matter?” asked Meghan.

“Broke up with Josh,” she wailed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry..”

“Another girl..”

“Oh dear..”

The story that Meghan managed to piece together between wails was that Emma, sufficiently encouraged by catching the bouquet at Mia’s wedding to have a relationship discussion with Josh, had the discussion blow up in her face. Josh revealed the existence of another woman in his life and demanded that Emma move out of their joint apartment to make way for her.

“The bastard,” said Meghan. Emma nodded and then went back to wailing.

Meghan thought that maybe a full-on discussion with Will about their relationship was not such a good idea.

“Darling I’m so sorry about Josh but crying onto my dining table isn’t going to help,” she said. “Take one of the rooms upstairs for a few days, the far one. Go and lie down there for now. I’ll get George to take you to your hotel to get your clothes. Also to your apartment. You still have things there?”

Emma nodded, then wailed again.

“Emma, darling, I’m sorry for your troubles but this is distracting, please go to the room. I’ll send George there.”

“I was to go with you,” said Emma, between sobs.

“Maybe another time. I can’t speak to people with you sobbing in a corner can I?”

Emma nodded then walked off, crying gently.

Back in her office, Meghan looked at the pile of CVs. Will had scribbled a note on a post-it note on top, which read: “when start? If Canada, current passport.”

She flicked through the documents, eventually picking a Bella Griffin, who had a degree in fine arts from Oxford University in England and experience which included curating collections of historical objects for family trusts, and spells of private tutoring. None of that screamed “assistant” but then her job would mostly be reminding her boss of appointments, helping her get to them, screening calls and chatting. A call later and Bella presented herself at the house. She was a slight, sinewy woman in a dark blue coat and skirt with a white blouse perhaps a few years older than her would-be boss. She wore glasses, had dark hair cut short, and a permanent dimple in her chin that marred a pleasant face. She spoke with an English accent. Bella was between husbands, so she told Meghan, and as the last not yet divorced husband had been her boss she was also between jobs.

“Sounds like quite a story,” said Meghan.

“A sad story,” she said.

Will had said something like that when Meghan had hired him and that made the star hire Bella on the spot at a per day rate. If she worked out a more permanent arrangement was possible and she told Bella, as she had told Will, to call her Meghan.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Ms Cha – I mean, Meghan,” said Bella. “Where do you want me to start.”

“Go and speak to the person you’re filling in for, that’s Emma. She’s upstairs sobbing over breaking up with her boyfriend...”

“Goodness... a bad breakup?”

“The worst, for her. I met the boyfriend for the first time on Saturday and he’s a good looking slease. She’s better off without him. But for now, all she can do for now is sob. See what you can get out of her about what I’m meant to be doing this week, although most of it is going to Canada to film more of this Alien Search series. Next week as well I think.”

“I’ve seen some of it,” said Bella. “The detective hunting for your character is a real honey.”

“He is, but I don’t get to do many scenes with him. I’m mainly doing exterior shots and a shower sex scene with my human protector in this episode.”

“He’s hot too,” said Bella.

“But married. I’m doing another film in a couple of weeks but that’s a space, science fiction thing which means mostly studio work in LA. I also have modelling and paid appearances to do. My agent’s office will have the details. Here is her number.” Meghan wrote it out. “Here is a number for George, a security guy I often use. Have him come and take Emma to her hotel and then back to her boyfriend’s place to collect what she needs to live here for a time. She can hang out in the room she’s in at least until she stops crying.”

“Gotit,” said Bella. “What room is Emma in?”

“To the right at the top of the stairs and follow the wailing,” said Meghan.

Bella found Emma sobbing into a pillow but the heart-broken assistant was able to hand over a printout of Meghan’s appointments for the next couple of weeks plus details of flights and hotels, given to her by Mia before the wedding.

“Does Ms Chalmers – Meghan have a boyfriend that I should know about?”

“Will,” wailed Emma. “Swims, makes coffee.”

“I see. A staff himbo?”

“Very nice,” sobbed Emma.

“That’s one seriously messed up lady,” said Bella on returning to Meghan. “Can we get a couple of her friends in for girl time, especially when we’re away? May not be good to leave her alone.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Meghan. “When you’ve recovered from that visit and sorted out my schedule see if you can get any sense out of her about friends she can have to visit. I’ll speak to Mrs Mendez – that’s the housekeeper.”

“And this friend of yours, Will. He’s not around at the moment?”

“He lives here,” said Meghan. “But is on a deep sea diving course in Florida at the moment. I expect him at the hotel towards the end of next week, maybe Friday. The hotel booking is in my legal name – Meghan Kowalski, as that doesn’t attract attention – but a key card should be left in his name at reception.”

“I’ll see to it,” said Bella making a note on the printout.

“For now I’ll need a rehearsal partner,” said the star, handing her new assistant a script.

 

Meghan and Bella went to the hotel in Canada, leaving Emma still sobbing at Casa Meghan. A dispute about who owned various items of furniture removed to a storage facility resulted in an unfriendly visit to the house from Josh which had to be dealt with by George. This meant the security man was left behind to ensure that Josh behaved himself. Meghan would rely on security at the hotel and on the production site if security was needed.

When Bella saw the hotel suite and met the cast members and director of the series Alien Search the novice assistant began to appreciate that she had lucked into a plumb job and began to scheme about how she could retain it, or at least snag a spot on Meghan’s entourage. Maybe she could do something to manage the star’s career? She did not know how to help with the film and modelling side of her boss’s life, but what about relationships? A barista who could swim – as she thought of Will – did not seem suitable for someone of Clarise Chalmers’ status. Rock stars and movie stars of the top rank should be competing for Meghan’s affections. Why not trade up to one of those media stars and a big-time celebrity wedding with the star’s hard-working assistant as a bridesmaid?

Bella hinted at this in the occasional discussions she had with Meghan, but this was hampered by the star’s reluctance to say very much about personal matters to someone who was still very much a stranger and one who, despite the initial favourable impression, Meghan had decided that she did not particularly like. The two women differed on many matters.

Bella wanted Meghan to check out the Montreal night life and eligible men, with her loyal assistant in tow, when the star wanted to stay in and talk to Will on the phone. More annoyingly Bella was way too serious in monitoring Meghan’s diet and exercise regimen. Will let her have the occasional nugget and challenged her to competitive tread mill races in the gym which he would win, but then Meghan would push him around. It was fun. Mia kidded the star into doing the work and would chat. Bella took everything seriously. It was irritating.

Meghan was not about to tell this annoying stranger how she felt about Will, especially as she was not sure how Will felt about her. However, she found Stella’s game of “pick a husband” an amusing diversion while on set and helped lighten her assistant’s grim outlook on life. This game consisted of Bella mentioning a particular star featured in a magazine she had picked up (Meghan also found her assistant’s interest in the film gossip publications mildly annoying) and say said something like “he’s really hot”, Meghan would say “he’s a nice guy” then add “his girlfriend is sweet”, or “yeah, he’s hot”.

One of these publications mentioned mall billionaire James Scranton.

“What about him?” asked Bella. “He’s rich enough for anyone.”

“Met him; total slease,” said Meghan.

This went on for a few days with Bella thinking that she was making progress in her quest when, in reality, her boss was not thinking of anyone but Will and beginning to tire of the husband game. Then on the Friday that Will was to be released from his course, there was a knock on the hotel suite door.

“Bella, have whoever it is wait,” called Meghan. “I have to change.”

Meghan was, in fact, still in her dressing gown – a charming, short, white silk gown that showed off her legs to excellent effect – and was reading an article in one of Bella’s magazines about the loves of Misty Dawn. She was not due on set until the filming of a salacious shower scene scheduled for the afternoon. She heard Bella speak to someone at the door and thought that she should get up and go to the bedroom to put on clothes. She had taken a few steps when Bo Benjamin came into the room, followed by two gigantic bodyguards.

“My, this is fine,” said Benjamin, eyes widening at the sight of Meghan.

As on the plane, he looked every inch the rock star with leather pants and vest, open black shirt, gold chain, still potent good looks and that masculine presence that made girls swoon world-wide. His two man security detail, on the other hand, looked as if they’d been cut from the same block of granite with the sculptor skipping on the necks, as well as dressed in the same dark suits and white shirts. Most of those who encountered the rock star had trouble telling the two bodyguards apart.

“Bo, good to see you,” said the star automatically, “but I’m not dressed. Bella, I said to ask our guests to wait.”

“But it’s Bo Benjamin,” trilled Bella. “It’s such an honor.”

“For me or for him?” asked Meghan, coolly. “Bo could still wait until I’m dressed.”

“We’re all friends here Clar,” said Bo, grinning. Meghan was reminded of a shark, or perhaps a wolf. “I’ve got concerts in town and thought I’d drop in.”

“I’m not friends with your security guys,” said Meghan. “They can wait.”

Bo dismissed his security detail with a wave and, not knowing where to go, the two men went into the suite’s dining room, shutting the door.

“I was thinking of you the other day when I got these,” said Bo, taking a paper packet out of his vest, which he unwrapped and put on the occasional table in front of the sofa to reveal sticks. Meghan had not touched this mild drug since being rescued by Will from the Los Angeles party and had not really missed it. But now that a few of the sticks had been placed in front of her by a man who had introduced her to the habit long ago, she was tempted. Shower scenes were hard work and Will, who would not approve at all, was still some hours away. Maybe she could be more relaxed before that afternoon’s filming?

Bo vanished for a moment while Meghan took a stick, then reappeared with an opened bottle of white wine.

“You used to like this label,” he said showing it to her.

“I don’t remember,” said Meghan squinting at the label and thinking that perhaps she needed glasses. “A few sips to relax can’t hurt. Bo, I can spare you an hour for old time’s sake then I’ve got to get dressed. My boyfriend is due in later and we’re going out.”

Bo paid no heed at all to Meghan’s comment about Will’s pending arrival. Instead he got two glasses filled them up at the suite’s bar and lit a stick for Meghan.

“Meghan why don’t I grab some coffee in one of the hotel shops,” said Bella thinking that the two stars may want to be alone to connect. “I could come back in about an hour.”

“Sure,” said Meghan, forgetting Will’s warnings about being left alone with men, particularly men who might think themselves entitled. Bella vanished.

Meghan took a sip of the wine – it was pleasant – and puffed on the stick. She thought that Bo was grinning at her in a way that reminded her of a wolf.

 

Not that far away, in fact in Montreal’s main business district, Will was looking in the windows of jewellery stores wondering if he was making a fool of himself again. The diving course had finished early, as one of the instructors had fallen ill and another had been required elsewhere, without giving Will the qualification required for deep diving. He would have to return perhaps later in the year. But that meant he was free to re-join Meghan early, meaning to surprise her, and perhaps do some shopping. He had never been to Montreal before but quickly discovered that it had an underground city filled with shops and a golden square mile and other places besides. Where was the best place to go? Should he really buy a ring off the shelf for a star like Clarise Chalmers? Should be buy a ring at all? Well, there was no need to confront the star straight away. Maybe he could hint around, or perhaps let her find the ring without realising that she was supposed to find it? He looked in another store and there, on display, was a ring that he thought she might like. His finances were in a lot better shape than they had been when he bought that ring for Violet. He went into the shop thinking that there was no harm in checking the ring size.

 

For Meghan space and time had been redefined. Ceilings and floor did not matter, she realised, and they vanished seemingly with a wave of her hand. Space was infinite and the stars that wheeled overhead were all hers. Everything had a soft glow, as if a particularly skilled lighting director had been at work on the set. Yes, that was it. Everything was really a movie set and they were all actors playing a part and what happened on a movie set didn’t matter in real life. Now that was a profound thought. She could do what she wanted, or what the script demanded, and walk away at the end of shooting. It was all pretend anyway.

A small part of her mind warned her that the drug in the stick was far more potent than those she had been using and it had combined with something in the wine in a strange way, but the rest of her drug-addled consciousness dismissed such thoughts as unprofessional. Everything was a movie. What happened on set did not matter, particularly when the feeling of letting go was so pleasurable. She was aware of being lifted up by Bo, and thinking that was odd, of her dressing gown falling away – what did that matter? It was all part of the scene – and of being pressed against a desk; of Bo moving on her. She clung to him, to steady herself, as she had done in many scenes, but also wrapped her legs around him as she thought that was a nice touch the director would appreciate.

Neither she nor Bo heard the hotel door open and she did not see, her face being buried in Bo’s neck, Will standing in the hallway dumbfounded before charging at the grappling couple. She heard Bo shout for his security team as he grabbed an old-fashioned letter opener that happened to be on the desk and thrust it at the on-rushing writer. Meghan looked down, saw the implement in Bo’s hand, thought that it was part of the scene they were playing and also grabbed it, just as Will’s full weight hit the couple, throwing them both off the desk to land painfully on the floor. Will had a moment to realise that something was sticking in his abdomen before the bodyguards intervened, tackling him and, in the process, smashing Will’s head into the wall.

Everyone but Will, who had been knocked unconscious, picked themselves off the floor. Meghan was naked and apparently in some sort of drugged state but working for Bo Benjamin the bodyguards had become used to such sights.

“How did this guy get in here?” said one of the security men.

If Bo had looked at Will the singer might have recognised him as the guy who dragged him out of the airplane seat next to Meghan, but he did not. As far as he was concerned the body on the floor was just another stalker and a violent one. Neither of the bodyguards had been with Bo on the plane so they also did not recognise Will. They only knew that it was Ms Chalmers’ suite.

“Get him out of here,” snapped Bo. “And talk to the hotel about security. Tell them I’m not happy.”

“Yes, boss,” said the senior man.

“He’s been stabbed,” said the other man, turning Will over. A huge blood stain was spreading over the front of his shirt and onto the tan writer jacket with padded elbows he had taken to wearing. “Doesn’t look so bad but better get him to a hospital.”

Meghan, reacting to a passing cloud she could see through the glass balcony door, giggled.

“I was defending myself,” snapped Benjamin. “Get rid of that letter opener I think it is and tell the police that we don’t know how that happened. Call the hotel people. Get him out of here and to a hospital.”

“You’ve got it, boss,” said the guards.

Benjamin carried Meghan off the suite’s main bedroom, the bodyguards carried Will out the door, passed the suitcase and shoulder bag Will had left in the suite entrance way without really noticing the items, and down to the lobby where the hotel staff hurriedly called an ambulance and the police.

A little later Bella returned to the suite to remind her boss it was time to get ready for the shoot to be confronted by two excited bodyguards the moment she opened the door.

“Oh it’s you,” said the senior guy. They told her what had happened. She was interested in the story about the intruder. She did not connect that intruder to Will, whom she had never met and was not due in for some time, or so she thought. Instead, she was astonished and gratified to hear that her boss had apparently connected very strongly with Bo Benjamin. Mr Benjamin had an entertainment industry stature that made him a worthy partner for Clarise Chalmers. The celebrity wedding of the century was one step closer with Himbo Will an irritant to be dealt with later. In the meantime, there was the problem of getting Meghan to the scheduled shooting for that day.

When the director’s assistant called to find out where the star had got to, Bella asked to see her boss. She found Meghan lying in bed beside Benjamin both apparently naked underneath the covers and talked to her while Benjamin spoke on his own mobile to what Bella supposed was an agent. The star acknowledged her assistant with a sleepy smile.

“Meghan, the people doing Alien Search called and they want you on set, are you going to get up?”

The star giggled. “Don’t want to. Want to stay here.”

It occurred to Bella then that the star was deeply stoned and maybe drunk as well, as there was an empty bottle of wine on her bedside table.

“There is also the question about what I tell Will.”

“Like Will,” she said, smiling. “Tell him what’s good.”

Bella tried a couple more questions but it had occurred to her that getting Meghan into a state fit for work that day would not be possible in any case and called the Alien Search people to tell them that. This eventually resulted in her speaking to the director, a gay Englishman called Liam, who had worked with Meghan before and knew her to be hard working and reliable.

“She’s basically excusing herself to have sex with Bo Benjamin?” said Liam, astonished.

Bella had not told him about Meghan also being stoned and drunk.

“Seems like they’ve really connected,” she said. “She’s sort of incommunicado right now. The moment she’s sensible I’ll get on the phone to you.”

Liam sighed. “Yeah, well, we can reschedule sort-of but streaming services are not like the movies. The schedules are way tighter. I don’t want to have to write her out of the series but that can happen unless she’s got a better excuse than rolling in the sack with her new boyfriend. What happened to Will, incidentally?” Liam had spoken to the writer a few times and liked him. “How did he take all this?”

“I’m still working on that. I haven’t seen him to tell him.”

“Poor lamb,” said Liam.

Bella was not looking forward to telling Will but he did not turn up that evening, although she waited in for him, trying not to listen to the sounds of Bo and Meghan, and unaware that Bo was all but ensuring that Meghan was kept high despite the star, in a muddled way, attempting to refuse the sticks.

The next day she walked twice through the suite’s foyer, nodding to one of Bo’s security guys who was always there, before she thought to ask about the bags that had not been moved.

“Not us,” said the guard. “I thought they were Ms Chalmers’ bags or yours.”

“No, not us,” said Bella. She flipped open the shoulder bag, saw that it had a computer and mobile phone. She also saw a ring case which she picked up and flipped open to briefly admire the ring inside. Then she picked up the phone, pressed the button at the bottom and the screen shot of Will and Meghan appeared. She knew Meghan, of course, and had to think for a moment about who the man was as she had only ever seen pictures of Will.

“Oh my god, Will was here,” she said, hand over her mouth.

“Who’s Will?” asked the guard.

“Her boyfriend, or the guy who was her boyfriend. When did these bags get dropped here?”

“I dunno,” said the guard.

“But was there anyone else here?”

“Just that intruder guy.”

“Did he look like that?” Bella showed the guard the phone’s cover picture.

“Yeah, that could be him.”

“You idiots, that was her boyfriend. He had a keycard left for him at the hotel reception. That’s why he was in the room.”

“He was attacking Mr Benjamin.”

“She was her boyfriend. He was probably just pulling them apart. You should have just held him rather than knocking him out.”

“Who knew,” said the bodyguard.

It took Bella a couple of hours and several calls to work out where Will had got to. He had been given a minor operation for the stab wound, then held overnight at the hospital to ensure there were no complications from being knocked unconscious before being transferred to a police station for questioning. She went in to tell Meghan what had happened and the star grinned at her. Bo, lying beside her on the bed and comparatively unaffected by the sticks they had both been smoking, was highly amused.

“Hear that Clar?” he said. “Your boyfriend didn’t realise you’d moved on and got stabbed and arrested.”

“Ish wonderful,” said Meghan.

It was left to Bella to go to the police station with Will’s bags and, after a brief explanation, was led straight through to an interview room where Will was being questioned by two Canadian detectives.

“Let’s go through this again,” Bella heard one detective say to Will. “You went to reception and picked up a key card for Ms Chalmers’ room.”

“Left for me by arrangement,” said Will. “Call the hotel.”

“Excuse me guys,” said the uniformed policeman escorting Bella. “You want to listen to this lady. She’s Clarise Chalmers’ assistant.”

“You must be Will,” said Bella. “I’m Bella.”

“Oh right, Meghan, I mean Clarise has spoken of you. Please tell these guys who I am?”

“Detectives this is Will, a member of Ms Chalmers’ staff,” said Bella. “There was a dreadful mix up at the hotel. Mr Benjamin’s bodyguards did not know who he was and thought he was attacking Mr Benjamin. If you call the hotel you’ll find that a Will Moreland was a guest at the hotel and was given a key card for the suite reserved for Megan Kowalski – Ms Chalmers legal name – at the front desk.”

“I see,” said the lead detective, surprised at Will’s sudden exoneration. “We’ll check but in the meantime, Mr Moreland, here is your passport and wallet back and an apology it seems. Sorry, man, we weren’t told any of this.”

“Forget it,” said Will. “I just want out. I see you’ve got my bags, Bella.”

“Then how come you got stabbed?” asked the second detective.

“In the confusion I ran into a knife – a letter opener on the desk in the living room - held by Benjamin and Chalmers.”

“Wild stuff,” said the senior detective. “Do you want to make a formal complaint?”

“No I don’t want to press charges, thank you,” said Will, stiffly.

“Let’s give you a hand with those bags,” said the junior detective getting up.