First Stop, New York by Jordan Cooke Read Free Book Online Page B

boring.”
    “I’ll alert you the minute the script arrives. In the meantime, I’ll take this lovely concoction and toss it in the sink.” Lorenzo sighed and pretended to be exhausted. “The things I do to please my princess…” he said as he slithered back to the hotel bar.
    “And I love ya for it!” she called after him.
    Anushka leaped from the chaise she’d parked herself on and slowly made her way indoors. Heads turned as she passed. People nodded and murmured and she gave her little smile again.
    “Excuse me, Miss?”
    Anushka turned. It was one of the hotel guests. A businessman with silver hair and steel blue eyes. She batted her lashes at him. The gentleman pointed to a pile of things Anushka had left behind: a Treo, sunglasses, an iPod, and a diary.
    “Aren’t you leaving some important things behind?”
    Anushka shrugged. “The only thing important to me tonight is keeping this million-dollar butt employed!”
    She gave her butt a loud
thwack
, winked, and sauntered into the hotel.
    Shutters on the Beach, Santa Monica—8:34 P.M.
    Corliss was hiding behind a thatch of sea grass. She could see Trent and Tanya through the reedy strands. They were seated at a table for two on Shutters’s outdoor patio. A small lamp sat on their table. Crystal glasses and silverware shimmered in the glow.
    Corliss had to catch her breath. The beach stretched out behind the couple, and waves crashed in the distance. A crescent moon hanging low over the ocean cast a romantic glow over the entire scene. It looked to Corliss like a painting by one of the French Impressionists she’d studied in art history.
    It was all so beautiful that she momentarily forgot her mission. She wished she were having dinner at a gorgeousrestaurant on the ocean with someone dreamy like Trent. Well, maybe not Trent himself—although he was the perfect picture of surfer-dude dreaminess—but someone with clear skin who took a bath every once in a while.
    Is that too much to ask?
Corliss wondered. Someone whose attention was focused on her and her alone. Someone who knew all the right things to say—and said them without getting his lips caught on his braces. Someone who looked really good in Diesel jeans.
    A girl can dream, can’t she?
    Corliss’s mind drifted further as a breeze from the ocean caressed her face.
There is something about Los Angeles
, she thought,
that lends itself to romance. It’s so balmy and sensual, so different from Indiana-no-place.
    Is it because the sun shines year-round
,
and everyone looks so healthy? So, well, ready for French kissing?
    Corliss focused and snapped out of her reverie. She made a mental note to tell Max about the restaurant setting; it would be a perfect location for the show. That is, she’d tell him if she didn’t diagnose the whole situation as nuts and quit after her first week. She was so mad she was even doing this.
    Crouched like a criminal behind indigenous plant life!
    Just as she thought this, Trent and Tanya laughed and threw their heads back, like people do on TV. It was truly amazing: Everything about them looked styled for
Vanity Fair
. Especially their hair.
    Corliss had never seen such hair. Her own was now an official disaster site. Puffy where it should have been flat, chaotic where it should have been peaceful. There was nothing to do about it until she got back to Uncle Ross’s.
Oh, well,
she thought,
I’m Max Marx’s number-one assistant, not a contestant on
America’s Next Top Hairdo.
    Besides, the only thing that mattered now was her mission. If she could pull this off, she could confidently walk up to Max tomorrow and say, “I’ve done this for you, but this is the last time I’ll disgrace myself for a job in television. I want real responsibilities!”
    Corliss took big gulps of air and counted.
    One, two, three.
    “Hey, guys,” she blurted from behind the sea grass.
    Tanya looked up blankly.
    Trent covered his face. “No photos, please.”
    “Oh, God, I