Page 32 of Forced Proximity

Wow.

The woman taps the digital clipboard. ‘Justin’s meeting with his team. I’ll escort you in a bit.’

Justin? Not Mr Greenwood? My skin prickles. In this business, unless you’re part of the inner circle, staff always address the talent by the first and last name. ‘I’m part of his team.’

Her red, heavily outlined lips pull into a thin line. ‘It’ll be a few minutes. Please take a seat.’ The woman spins and walks off without another word.

‘Can I offer you something to drink?’ A doe-eyed, barely twenty-year-old receptionist with a name tag that says ‘Amanda’ asks from behind the desk.

‘No, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Could you point me to the bathroom?’

‘Of course,’ Amanda says. ‘Follow me.’

The brightly lit hall smells faintly of jasmine and hardwood floor cleaners. Movie set pictures ranging from E.T. to The Breakfast Club to 8 Mile decorate the walls. I’m not one to be star struck. But if Molly Ringwald happens to appear around the corner, I will definitely forget my own name.

Amanda leans into me. ‘Don’t mind Ivy.’

‘Ivy?’

‘The cranky blonde in the lobby.’ She nods behind her shoulder. ‘She’s, like, obsessed with Justin Greenwood. She escorts everyone back there just so she can look at him. It’s not personal.’

Obsessed. A trigger word in my line of business. I’m absolutely running a background check later tonight.

After using the bathroom, I sit back in the lobby, accept a cappuccino from Amanda and watch as various folk check in. The woman, Ivy, selectively smiles. She’s a fascinating study. Laughing and grazing one man’s hand. Scoffing at another. And completely ignoring those with visitor badges.

A tall, slender man with a laptop bag approaches the desk. I can’t make out his conversation with Ivy, but within a minute, he takes a deflective step back and puts his hands in the air. He turns around and adjusts his bag. When he catches my eyes, he mouths ‘yikes’.

I almost chuckle. At least Ivy is an equal-opportunity asshole. ‘Not sure they’re known for their customer service skills,’ I say from the corner of my mouth.

‘I think you’re right. Wowza.’ He runs his fingers through his sandy-blond hair and settles into a lounge chair. ‘You waiting to audition?’

‘Me? God, no. You?’

‘No way.’ A warm smile spreads as he attaches a visitor badge to his breast pocket. ‘Resident IT nerd only. I don’t think you could pay me enough to be in front of the cameras. Although I do have one hell of a snake dance.’

He ripples his arms from his shoulder to his wrist in a terrible snake dance move. This time, I do chuckle. ‘That’s, ah, impressive.’

‘I figure if I drop one of these moves in the hall, a producer might catch it and sign me up for a reality show.’

My smile spreads. This guy is the friendliest person I’ve met in a while. I check my watch, sip the last of my cappuccino and start to rise when Ivy struts toward the sitting area.

‘Tim?’ Ivy says to the man, waving him over. ‘You can come back now.’

Seriously? I was here way before this Tim guy.

‘Good luck,’ he whispers and follows her through the heavy glass doors.

Ten minutes later, Ivy swipes her elevator badge and escorts me to the conference room. When the doors open, I monitor her facial expressions and micro-actions. She glimpses at Justin, and her cheeks flush. She might just be a fan. And I’m not jealous, obviously, but I do find myself staring at Justin to see his reaction. Ivy looks like a model, is dressed like she’s auditioning for a role on a new Devil Wears Prada spin-off flick, and towers over me by a good four inches. I’m in my T-shirt, cargo pants, ponytail and … yeah. I look at Justin’s reaction.

Which is none. But when his eyes meet mine, he grins.

Not that I care. Of course. I refuse to entertain this butterfly that’s pinging around in my gut with zero regard to rationale. I snag Jack for a quick debrief, ask him to run a background check on Ivy, then wave at a patiently waiting Zane.

Someone needs to explain how magenta hair and a rainbow cardigan can look so good on a person. It goes against the laws of the universe.

‘What’s up, Doc?’ Zane hands me a carrot and snorts a laugh. ‘See what I did there?’

‘Yep, sure did.’ I roll my eyes but chuckle at the cartoon reference. ‘Sadly, I’m old and crotchety and lost the ability to laugh at a joke I’ve heard a hundred times.’