London,’ she said. ‘After all, we’re supposed to be an international company and if you’re intending to sink 80 per cent of our resources into a project that doesn’t have a script …’
‘Your clients won’t be forgotten,’ Ellen cut in. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already late for a meeting.’
As the line went dead Sandy muttered ‘bitch’ under her breath and hung up too. She almost always enjoyed talking to Ellen, mainly because she knew how little Ellen trusted her and how powerless Ellen was to do anything about it.
‘Jodi,’ she said, walking into the office next door, ‘are either of World Wide’s project researchers in today?’
Jodi, who was Michael’s assistant when he was in London and general office manager when he wasn’t, looked at the schedule board behind her. ‘No,’ she answered, as Sandy’s assistant, Stacy, came into the office, loaded down with scripts. ‘They’re due in tomorrow – Stace they’re going to fall!’
‘It’s OK, I’ve got them,’ Sandy said, catching half a dozen scripts as they toppled towards her. ‘Why don’t you get the chaps in the post room to do this? What are they, anyway?’
‘Rejects from the readers,’ Stacy answered, her flushed face showing only relief as she deposited the rest of the pile on her desk. ‘I brought them up in case you wanted to do a spot check,’ she added, flopping down in her chair. With her short, plump body and shiny brown hair she looked the picture of schoolgirl health, despite being a mere eight days from her thirtieth birthday.
‘Call downstairs to World Wide and find out if either of the researchers have put in an unexpected appearance,’ Sandy told her. ‘If not, find one of them and get him on the phone.’ She was about to leave, then suddenly turned back. ‘I’m going to talk to Zelda, but I’ll take the call in my office.’
Some ten minutes later she was back at her desk talking to Jeremy Whittaker, one of the World Wide researchers, on the phone. ‘I want you to find out everything you can about an American woman by the name of Rachel Carmedi,’ Sandy said. ‘She was shot and killed in Colombia three years ago. There was apparently quite a lot in the press about her at the time, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get some background.’
‘I vaguely remember the story,’ he said. ‘Was she from New Orleans?’
‘I think so. Get back to me as soon as you can. Actually e-mail me whatever you come up with.’
As she rang off Craig Everett, the senior literary agent, put his handsome blond head round her door. ‘Fancy a screening tonight?’ he invited. ‘It’s at BAFTA. None of our clients, so it could be a bit of a relaxer. Zelda’s up for it. I’m about to ask the others.
OK, I’ll be right there
,’ he called back over his shoulder as someone yelled for him.
Sandy looked at her watch. ‘What time does it start?’ she asked.
‘Drinks at seven. Movie at eight.’
‘Sounds tempting,’ she responded, ‘but I’ve got a meeting at six over at the Beeb. I suppose I could make the movie.’
‘Try,’ Craig said. ‘You don’t get out enough. What it did to Jack it can do to Sandy.’
Sandy frowned and watched him go. Then, realizing he was referring to all work and no play, she started to smile. She really was fond of Craig, felt much more relaxed with him than any of the other agents, even though, amazingly, none of them ever appeared to have a problem with her. Hopefully none of them guessed how daunted she sometimes was by the fact she was their boss, but it wasn’t an insecurity she gave much rein to, mainly because there wasn’t the time – as Craig had just pointed out.
How many women’s hopes had he crushed over the years by being gay, she wondered. And when was the last time the two of them had sat down and had a good old gossip over dinner, putting the world, the industry and their complicated love lives to rights? Actually, his was much more
‘Your clients won’t be forgotten,’ Ellen cut in. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already late for a meeting.’
As the line went dead Sandy muttered ‘bitch’ under her breath and hung up too. She almost always enjoyed talking to Ellen, mainly because she knew how little Ellen trusted her and how powerless Ellen was to do anything about it.
‘Jodi,’ she said, walking into the office next door, ‘are either of World Wide’s project researchers in today?’
Jodi, who was Michael’s assistant when he was in London and general office manager when he wasn’t, looked at the schedule board behind her. ‘No,’ she answered, as Sandy’s assistant, Stacy, came into the office, loaded down with scripts. ‘They’re due in tomorrow – Stace they’re going to fall!’
‘It’s OK, I’ve got them,’ Sandy said, catching half a dozen scripts as they toppled towards her. ‘Why don’t you get the chaps in the post room to do this? What are they, anyway?’
‘Rejects from the readers,’ Stacy answered, her flushed face showing only relief as she deposited the rest of the pile on her desk. ‘I brought them up in case you wanted to do a spot check,’ she added, flopping down in her chair. With her short, plump body and shiny brown hair she looked the picture of schoolgirl health, despite being a mere eight days from her thirtieth birthday.
‘Call downstairs to World Wide and find out if either of the researchers have put in an unexpected appearance,’ Sandy told her. ‘If not, find one of them and get him on the phone.’ She was about to leave, then suddenly turned back. ‘I’m going to talk to Zelda, but I’ll take the call in my office.’
Some ten minutes later she was back at her desk talking to Jeremy Whittaker, one of the World Wide researchers, on the phone. ‘I want you to find out everything you can about an American woman by the name of Rachel Carmedi,’ Sandy said. ‘She was shot and killed in Colombia three years ago. There was apparently quite a lot in the press about her at the time, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get some background.’
‘I vaguely remember the story,’ he said. ‘Was she from New Orleans?’
‘I think so. Get back to me as soon as you can. Actually e-mail me whatever you come up with.’
As she rang off Craig Everett, the senior literary agent, put his handsome blond head round her door. ‘Fancy a screening tonight?’ he invited. ‘It’s at BAFTA. None of our clients, so it could be a bit of a relaxer. Zelda’s up for it. I’m about to ask the others.
OK, I’ll be right there
,’ he called back over his shoulder as someone yelled for him.
Sandy looked at her watch. ‘What time does it start?’ she asked.
‘Drinks at seven. Movie at eight.’
‘Sounds tempting,’ she responded, ‘but I’ve got a meeting at six over at the Beeb. I suppose I could make the movie.’
‘Try,’ Craig said. ‘You don’t get out enough. What it did to Jack it can do to Sandy.’
Sandy frowned and watched him go. Then, realizing he was referring to all work and no play, she started to smile. She really was fond of Craig, felt much more relaxed with him than any of the other agents, even though, amazingly, none of them ever appeared to have a problem with her. Hopefully none of them guessed how daunted she sometimes was by the fact she was their boss, but it wasn’t an insecurity she gave much rein to, mainly because there wasn’t the time – as Craig had just pointed out.
How many women’s hopes had he crushed over the years by being gay, she wondered. And when was the last time the two of them had sat down and had a good old gossip over dinner, putting the world, the industry and their complicated love lives to rights? Actually, his was much more
Similar Books
