“Not everyone keeps the same agent for an entire career. Pretend you’re Stephen King, Master of Horror, and you’re aching to branch out and try something new. Let’s take a wild stab and say romance.”
Rhett laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“No, hear me out. Mr. King’s agent wouldn’t want him to jump to a vastly different genre, not when he’s making a killing with what he’s doing, including books and movies and mini-series. But old Stevie is bored and wants to challenge himself. He finds himself a different agent that’s willing to rep him the way he desires. One who believes in him and think he can write the next best damned romance novel since Nora Roberts. Stephen King has enough money to last a thousand lifetimes. That’s not the point. He needs the creative challenge.”
Rhett nodded in understanding. “I used to model for Ralph Lauren.”
“Yes, Abs Man, every woman in America knows that. You had one agent to rep that work—runway, print ads, billboards. When you wanted to cross over to film, you found someone else to help you reach your goals in a different line of work, someone experienced in that field. You broke in, paid your dues, and made a name for yourself.”
Cassie threw down the gauntlet. “Why not try a different move again—another genre? What have you got to lose?”
Rhett gave her a soul-searching look. “You really think so?”
She laughed. “Honey, anyone who can keep a straight face while they blow away bad guys amidst all those green screens can do anything. I mean it. Anything.” She leaned back in her chair. “Life’s too short not to follow your dreams, Corrigan. Just think about it.”
Rhett eyed her thoughtfully. “I will.”
They finished their meal, with Cassie refusing to try dessert.
“Pasta packs it on me. I’ll be on a diet of protein bars and water the rest of the week. Maybe next time I’ll start with dessert first and see if I have room left over for a meal.”
He signaled for their check. It impressed Cassie that he was a generous tipper. Not outlandishly gaudy, like stars who left six hundred dollars on a sixty dollar tab, but much better than Joe Average off the street. She’d waited tables before and knew how hard a server worked. She would’ve appreciated a customer like Rhett. One who knew her name and asked personal questions about her, just as he had with Raoul.
They retreated through the kitchen again. Rhett waved to the chef and told him how much they had enjoyed their lunch. A glow of pride crossed the man’s face as he nodded in appreciation.
Rhett saw her to the Range Rover and recommended a market Maria used that wasn’t far from his house. He fished in his pocket and handed her a wad of bills.
“For parking and incidentals. Let me know if you spend more. I’ll remember to get the credit card from Carreen.” Rhett paused. “I hope you’re glad you’ve accepted the position as my assistant because I feel as though I’ve made the right choice.”
Cassie looked down as she fastened her seatbelt, hoping he wouldn’t notice her flushed cheeks. “Yes. I think we’ll be a good fit. I’ll see you back at the house. Hope your visit with Carreen goes well.”
She retrieved her cell from her purse and found it was dead so she couldn’t use it for directions. Since she hadn’t a clue how to use the GPS in the Range Rover, she was pleased to find the market after a couple of wrong turns. Decidedly upscale, with an exterior that screamed money, and valet parking. What would you expect in Hollywood? She decided to take advantage of it because of the amount of groceries she had to buy. Rhett had handed over a small fortune as it was. She hadn’t ever seen that much cash in her life—much less in her hands.
Cassie shopped until she was ready to drop. As she moved quickly down the aisles of the supermarket, it made her sad to think of the empty shelves in Rhett’s kitchen. She’d never really thought about movie stars having to eat as ordinary people did. It made her angry to think Consuelo and her crew deserted him on a regular basis and assumed they’d be welcomed back with open arms.
She loaded up two full carts, knowing she had hungry men to feed. She would get Shep’s dog food later. She’d need to check on who his vet was, what kind of food he ate, and when he was due for shots. She wondered if she would need to walk him or if Rhett had a dog walker come in for that.
Cassie had so much to do and learn. Part of her was overwhelmed by all the responsibility she would have yet she knew she’d thrive on all the activity. She enjoyed staying busy and Rhett’s life would bring something new every day. It was fortunate that he seemed down to earth, as normal as a banker or architect. After being around Manny’s second and third-tiered acting wannabes, with their diva tantrums and unrealistic demands, she needed some peace and normalcy in her life. Even in Hollywood.
Of course, Rhett might change around others. He might slip on the Hollywood mantle of fame and attitude when around those in the business. Somehow, Cassie didn’t see that happening. In their short acquaintance, Rhett Corrigan had proven to be very WYSIWYG—What You See Is What You Get.
Handing her claim check to the valet, she tipped him in Rhett’s fashion, healthy and fair. She only turned down one wrong street on the way back to the Corrigan estate, which made her immensely proud. Usually, she was useless with directions. Maybe the Range Rover simply led her back the right way, much like a horse would an inexperienced rider.
Cassie keyed in the gate code and pulled up the long drive, wondering if there was a place to pull around in back since she had so many groceries to carry inside. She spotted her sad Toyota and the Corvette still in the drive, but the Mercedes was missing. She assumed the Vette was Breck’s and the Mercedes belong to Randi.
Glad that the pouting model was gone, Cassie drove past the two parked cars. A sudden glance had her slamming on the brakes. She put the car in park and stared, seeing and yet not comprehending.
The Toyota’s tires had been slashed.
CHAPTER 7
Cassie hopped from the tall seat of the Range Rover and hurried over to the shabby rental. Both tires facing her were deflated. Jagged, angry slashes laced through the worn rubber.
The front door slammed. She looked up and saw Breck jingling his car keys.
“Hey, Cass. Glad you’re back. Please tell me you bought food. Anything. Chips. Soda. Chicken. Cheese. Hell, I’d even eat cardboard if you bought some ketchup for it. Or even salsa. Salsa’s good, too.”
He walked around the front of the Toyota. “I’ll help you bring things in if you—”
Breck stopped dead in his tracks and whistled low. “Now I see why you’re all glassy-eyed and quiet for once.”
Cassie turned to look at him, her anger barely contained. “Who would do something like this? How could they get in here? Does Rhett have security cameras? We need to call the police right away.”
“No way, kiddo. Rhett wouldn’t want anything like this to hit the papers.” He walked over and knelt next to the damaged front tire, rubbing his hand along it. “He thinks the gates are enough. They have been in the past. He relishes his privacy, Cassie. It’s the one thing he guards like a pit bull.”
Breck stood up. “Rhett doesn’t have cameras because he doesn’t want security tapes floating around or any kind of digital record. That’s why he’s been comfortable with his sister handling most of his personal affairs and Consuelo and her crew doing the rest. They may be a little flaky but they love the hell out of him. It doesn’t hurt that he pays them well. They’d never go shouting to the tabloids about anything.”