Brad
“The director’s wife apparently has an affair with—”
“I don’t care,” I say, my sneakers hitting the hard concrete at a fast clip. I can hear Shauna huffing and puffing behind me as she tries to keep the pace, but I try to keep the focus on my own breathing.
Having a personal assistant is fine, but I just hate it when she insists on following after me during my morning runs. Can’t a guy have a moment’s rest?
According to Shauna, no—an actor should always be kept in the loop. Of course, that means she’s always trying to tell me about the latest gossip in the industry.
Now I always know who’s cheating on who.
“Oh, but this is important because—”
“Shauna, seriously,” I tell her, slowing down my pace and looking back at her over my shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, long locks of hair are already plastered to her face, and heavy beads of sweat are trailing down her cheeks.
I always feel bad whenever she tries to keep up with me, but what can I do? She’s the one who insists on coming.
“What?” she asks me, and then she stops, bending over and placing her hands on her knees. She takes deep breaths, her cheeks becoming more flushed by the second, and I stop my run and walk back to her.
“You okay?”
“I’m…I’m fine,” she breathes out, standing up straight, her cellphone still in her hand. “I was just trying to keep you up-to-date.”
“Being up-to-date is fine,” I reply. “But that doesn’t mean you have to tell me every single piece of gossip you hear on the internet.”
“Oh, I know that. It’s just that you never know what might be important,” she tells me, distractedly scrolling through the newsfeed on her phone. I doubt she heard a word of what I just said.
“Shouldn’t you be acting as my filter? You’re supposed to tell me only the important things.” I place my hands on my hips, looking at her as she keeps her gaze fixed on her phone.
Fucking hell, I almost want to take the phone out of her hands and smash it to pieces.
I love Shauna to bits—she’s the best personal assistant I’ve ever had, and she’s always on top of every little thing—but she seems like a drug addict when it comes to the internet. I don’t think I can remember a single time where she didn’t have her phone in her hands.
“Oh god,” she suddenly whispers, raising her eyes from the phone for the first time in a minute. “This is big.”
“What’s big?” I ask her, cocking one eyebrow. Probably someone important having an affair.
Everyone in Hollywood seems to be having an affair. Maybe someone should write a column about that—Cheater of the Week or something.
“I’m serious, Brad,” she insists, and this time I actually believe she has something interesting for me. The look in her eyes tells me she’s worried, and it’s never a good thing when Shauna’s worried. It usually means that there’s trouble on the horizon.
“C’mon, tell me,” I insist, resisting the urge to simply take the phone out of her hands and see with my own eyes what got her that worried.
“Apparently, a rumor surfaced on the web about the second season of The Kings,” she finally starts, her thumb slowly sliding over the screen of her phone.”
“We’re not getting axed, are we? I mean, the ratings were through the roof last season—”
“It’s not that.” She cuts me short with a wave of her hand. “Apparently, one of the leads is going to be killed off this season.”
“What the fuck?” I ask her in disbelief. That doesn’t make any fucking sense.
The whole premise of the show involves three brothers battling it out for the family’s fortune (and the heart of one girl), so why the hell would the production kill off one of the main characters during the second season?
“That’s what everyone’s commenting on,” Shauna shrugs, furiously scrolling through the comments on the article she’s reading. “And the studio has decided not to comment on the issue, stating that creatively speaking, all choices are valid.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“It’s not that bad. This is creating a lot of buzz. Ratings are going to be through the roof once the second season starts.”
“Yeah, right. But what if I’m the one being killed off?” I ask her, pursing my lips as I consider the implications. A show like The Kings offers a straight path to money and critical acclaim—it is, after all, one of these once-in-a-lifetime productions—and I sure as hell don’t want to have my head chopped off during the second season while Ian and Scott stick around to reap the rewards.
“I need to do something,” I tell Shauna without waiting for her reply. “I can’t stand around with my hands in my pockets while someone decides my fate.”
“Maybe you could talk with Ed?”
“Ed?” Right, like that asshole would ever hear me out.
He only cares about one thing, and that’s the studio bottom line. He’d happily kill every single character and replace them with pink CGI unicorns if that meant his wallet would keep on growing fatter.
“No, I can’t speak with Ed,” I finally say.
“Then what about Kayla?”
“Kayla?”
“Yeah, I know you’ve had your eye on her for a while now,” Shauna comments, her lips curling into a teasing grin.
Shit, is it that obvious? Maybe it is, I guess. After all, what kind of guy wouldn’t have his sights set on a woman like Kayla?
Kayla’s smart (you don’t get to be head writer of a show like The Kings just because you look good) and she’s a stunner.
There’s a sweetness to her eyes, and her lips seem to have the perfect shape for kissing. And when she walks, the sway of her perfect hips always makes my cock twitch inside my pants. I don’t even know how many times I’ve wondered how it’d feel to have her naked body pressed against mine.
“Maybe it’s time you make your move. Get into her good graces, and maybe she won’t chop your head off,” she tells me, making a dramatic gesture as she runs one thumb over her neck.
“Jesus fuck, Shauna. You really know how to cheer a guy up.” I sigh heavily, run one hand through my hair, and then look straight into Shauna’s eyes. “Alright, what’s the game plan?”
“Well.” She chuckles. “Time for you to realize that knowing everything about everything pays off.”
“Spit it out, Shauna. My career is on the line.”
“Alright, so…Organic Express delivers Kayla’s lunch every day, and she always eats in her office alone. That’s her routine, and she doesn’t deviate from it.”
“Well, I guess she won’t be eating alone today then.”