The First Assistant by Clare Naylor, Mimi Hare Page B

Mercedes. Admittedly he hadn’t talked to me about the idea again, but then I wasn’t necessarily intrinsic to the deal, anyway. Just a pawn whose permission didn’t need to be sought.
    He interrupted my train of thought. “It’s actually kinda cold out here, honey. Can you hang on while I go back inside?”
    “Sure.” I waited and wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear a distinctly French accent in the background.
    “Darling, would you close the door? The snow’s getting in,” the voice said. I couldn’t hear Luke’s response.
    “Right,” Luke said a few seconds later, “I’m back. It’s minus twenty degrees here, by the way.”
    “I see,” I said, suddenly registering somewhere around the same temperature myself. “Where exactly are you, Luke?” I asked, trying to hide the chill in my voice.
    “I told you. Having dinner at someone’s place.” He sounded defensive.
    “Whose?” I knew this was not the route to take, but my inner psychopath was getting the better of me.
    “Emanuelle’s,” he said with a guilty cough so he might blur the news. “So, why didn’t you tell me that before?” I tried not to sound too de-monic. Especially not since Amber had just walked back into the room—mysteriously without a trace of the ink that always covered my hands and cheeks after I’d taken minutes at the staff meeting. It crossed my mind that she was a witch. “Hmmm,” I said, but as I didn’t want to make too much of a scene I reverted to passive-aggression. “I
    might be going to Thailand for three months,” I said remorselessly. “What was that, baby?” he asked distractedly. I wondered if
    Emanuelle was sucking his toes.
    “Don’t worry, you’re probably too busy to listen. We can talk another time,” I suggested.
    “No, really. I was just getting comfortable.”
    “I may be going on location to Thailand for a while,” I repeated. “You’re not serious?” Luke said with the desired note of shock in his
    voice.
    “I know, I don’t really want to, but Scott wants to swap me for a car,” I said.
    “Honey, my line’s crackling. I can hardly hear you. Are you really thinking of going to Thailand?”
    “No, but I might have to,” I said. “When?” He sounded concerned.
    “In a week or so,” I replied. If I were going, that’s when it would be. “But I’m home in two weeks for your birthday. We’ll miss each other and who the hell knows when we’ll be together next?” He did seem genuinely upset. That is, until I heard the dulcet tones of Emanuelle again. “Darling, I’ve poured you some more wine. Who is that, anyway?”
    she asked peevishly.
    “Oh, nobody,” Luke said.
    “Nobody!” I yelled with enough force to knock the earth off its axis. Amber looked as happy as I’d ever seen her. Discord in other people’s lives was manna to her black heart.
    “Oh Jesus, Lizzie, grow up won’t you?” Luke snapped. “She’s my leading lady; I’ve got to keep her happy.”
    “I beg your pardon?” I said, feeling as if I’d been kicked.
    “If she thinks I’m being all cozy with you, she’ll get upset,” he said. “You know how these actresses are.”
    “Is she still in love with you?” I asked, fear gripping my throat. Now I really did have something to worry about; I no longer had to invent it. And it made me feel nauseous.
    “No. Yes. No. Maybe.” Luke wrapped his tongue around the lies. “Yes,” he finally admitted.
    “Are you in love with her?” I asked, slowly enunciating every word. “Of course not,” he said. Which wasn’t the “no” I wanted.
    “Why ‘of course not’? She’s very beautiful.”
    “I know but . . .” he began. God, he was getting this all very, very wrong. He was supposed to say, “So are you.” Or, “No she’s not. She’s ugly inside.” He wasn’t supposed to say, “I know.”
    “I have to go,” I said as I realized I’d need some time to digest what may or may not be happening on the set of Dracula’s