“N . . . Ezra,” I said, flustered at my near slip. I caught myself staring. With his expensively disheveled blond hair, ludicrously high cheekbones, and Hollywood smile, he seemed so out of place in our dingy office. I spent so much time being annoyed with him, it was easy sometimes to forget how absurdly pretty he was.
NOB didn’t even look at me as he passed by. It was as if our relationship had reverted to where it was before our deal. It struck me how much it had changed over the last few months for this to actually sting. I used to think NOB was nothing more than an arse. Now I understood that he was just uncompromisingly himself with everyone. Of course, that did mean he was often just an arse, but he’d proven there was more to him than that. So, what was he playing at?
I sank low in my chair, tapping my pen furiously against my pad and glaring at his retreating back as if it could somehow give me the answers. What could the pair of them possibly be meeting about at this hour? And why didn’t I know about it?
Just before he closed Monty’s office door, NOB glanced back at me and winked.
I pretended to be typing, keeping one eye on Monty’s window. NOB came into view, pacing the office and gesturing as he spoke. I could hear the occasional word through the thin walls. I thought I caught my name.
After my scare over the New Year, I’d made NOB promise once again that he wouldn’t tell Monty about our deal. Given that drunk Evie had already let it slip to NOB that my job was at risk, I’d told him Monty would most likely fire me if he found out. He’d sworn he wouldn’t say a word.
So what the hell was he doing?
NOB disappeared from sight and I leaned farther back in my chair. If I could just see Monty’s reaction to whatever it was he was saying, I might have a clue about what was going on. I pushed my toe against the wall, tipping myself back a little. Just a little bit farther . . . A little bit more. There. I could see NOB again. He had something in his hand.
My chair wobbled alarmingly. I teetered, just for a second, before gravity took hold. NOB’s gaze slid to the window and he watched as I tipped over backward, my headrest catching on the wall behind me and leaving me wedged at a ninety-degree angle with my legs in the air.
Monty stepped into view and scowled as if I’d done this on purpose. He pulled the cord on his blind. It fell halfway and stopped. He yanked it up and tried again. NOB stood behind him, amusement in his blue eyes as the blind seesawed up and down and I remained lodged in the corridor like an upended turtle. While Monty was distracted, I caught NOB’s eye, smiled, and discreetly stuck two fingers up. NOB’s brows shot up, and I gripped the arms of my chair before Monty could catch sight of his assistant flipping off his number-one client. Was that really worth the risk, Evie? Monty had managed to get only half the blind down when he gave up and stormed away.
I was upright and answering emails by the time NOB emerged from Monty’s office. Once again, he didn’t even look at me as he passed by. I stared after him, cold fingers of trepidation on my neck.
“Evelyn?” Monty called. “My office. Now.”
* * *
When I entered, Monty seemed mesmerized by a small stack of paper on his desk.
“Is everything okay?”
He looked up, fingers dancing around the edges of the pages, as if checking that they were still there.
“It’s Ezra,” said Monty. “He’s delivered Act Two.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then I heard myself saying, “But . . . he’s early.”
“Well, it’s not quite complete yet.”
Ah. He’d at least delivered something though. “How is it?”
“Excellent,” Monty replied, somewhat dreamily. I let out the breath I’d been holding. I should have been happy, and I was, but why did NOB have to be so infuriating about it? He could have at least told me he was writing. Instead, he’d once again cut me out. “I must confess, I didn’t realize quite how much you were helping him.” I was so distracted by the thought of beating NOB over the head with his own Oscar, I almost missed this. Monty. Praising me. His face brightened. “It’s entirely different to A Heart Lies Bleeding, of course, but I think he really has something here, Evelyn.”
Seeing Monty like this, it was easy to imagine him in the same chair fifteen years ago, back before years of indulgence had set in and the shine had worn off for him.
“I’d really love to read it,” I said.
His attention snapped back to me, and I swear there was a hint of guilt in his expression. “He hasn’t shown it to you?”
I shook my head.
Monty tightened his fingers around the edges of NOB’s script. “All in due course.” He pulled it closer to him. “We . . . We need to talk, Evelyn. Ezra has expressed some serious concerns about you.”
I was too stunned to respond.
“About your workload.”
“My . . . workload?”
Monty cleared his throat. “Ezra is concerned you might have distractions.” By “distractions,” I assumed NOB meant other writers, along with what little personal life I had left. That arrogant, insufferable boychild. “He’s making good progress with the writing, and he wants to protect your time so you can spend more of it assisting him. Which is why I’ve made a decision.” Monty paused. I held my breath, readying myself for whatever was to come. “I don’t need to remind you how much is riding on this script. I’m counting on you to make sure he delivers the rest. Without distractions.” Monty straightened a pen on his desk. “So I’ll be making sure you can concentrate on your client.”
“My what?”
Monty used his sleeve to dust a framed photograph of him with Richard Attenborough. “Do I really need to spell this out? At Ezra’s request, I’m handing temporary responsibility for him over to you. This does of course mean that you need to free up more of your time to spend on helping Ezra. As I’m sure I don’t have to emphasize, he needs a certain amount of attention. Until his deadline, I’ll be keeping an eye on your workload, and I’ll even . . .” He mumbled something.
“I didn’t quite hear—”
“I’ll take on some of your work.” Monty wheezed, as if I’d wrestled the words from him. “We really need him to keep writing, Evelyn. He’s all we’ve got. With Alessandro out of the picture . . .” He trailed off.
“I thought things were going well?” I’d been relieved to see Monty going after someone new, even if I’d been the one to find him. Signing up Alessandro could have taken some of the pressure off us. I’d seen his short films—he was a talent to be reckoned with.
“He was being courted by another agent,” Monty said, closing his eyes. This kind of thing happened all the time in the industry—if there was buzz around a new talent, agents would vie to represent them. Yet I could see this one had hit Monty hard. Part of me wondered whether things would be different if I’d been able to speak to Alessandro myself. Next time. “It turns out he didn’t care enough about his career. He’s signed with Geoffrey and Turner.”