“Oh no,” she gasped out loud, realization setting in. “Oh no.”
Pushing away from her desk, Nicola walked timidly toward Gaynor’s door.
“Hey, uh, Gaynor, can I ask you a question?”
Gaynor turned to her, silenced by the tone of her voice.
“Mija, what’s wrong?” she gasped. “Did you see a ghost?”
“Well, I dunno. But tell me this—does Crystal represent Ethan Carpenter?”
“Darling, how did you miss her? She just signed him a month ago; she’s been his shadow at every event; you would think he has a thing for Egyptian mummies instead of the boulevard rent boys. He’s her first big new client in years. Why does this scare you? What did that puta vieja say?”
Nicola swallowed loudly and began. Even after a year, armed with the knowledge that Gaynor’s bark was worse than her bite, it was hard to tell her bad news. Her agency was her life, and any threat to it turned Gaynor from disco-crazed caricature into a snarling pit bull in seconds.
“Billy called me last night from some emergency room in Vegas. He’d been with Ethan all weekend and I guess Ethan OD’d or something and went to the emergency room. Paparazzi followed them, and they were trapped inside, waiting for Crystal to arrive. Billy barely managed to escape.”
“Oh, dios mío,” screamed Gaynor, bursting into laughter. “Abuelita’s gonna have a manic Monday!”
“Well, hold on, because this is the part you won’t like,” Nicola continued. “Billy told Crystal that you’re his publicist!”
Gaynor’s laughing ratcheted up a notch, going from monkey squall to hyena cackle. Billy was outrageous and tenacious, and Gaynor had loved him from the start, even if he had first called her to blackmail one of her clients. She’d offered him access to her clients in exchange for him not selling their scandals to the tabloids. He’d even brought Nicola to her, and for that, Gaynor was grateful.
“This friend of yours, this pretty boy, has a set of cojones. I love it. I love it. Fine, for today, I am his publicist. You call him and tell him to tell her that his publicist said we have no comment on the matter. Then tell him to get the fuck away from Crystal, Ethan, and Las Vegas. Tell him to drive to my office, because I want to hear this whole story, I want to hear every single detail. But please remind him, I’m a publicist, not a pimp, and until he’s auditioning for something other than Malibu houseboy, never to drop my name again. But for today, I love him and I love this.”
Well, that went better than expected, thought Nicola. She called Billy and got voice mail. She began repeating Gaynor’s instructions for him, and Gaynor appeared at her side, goading her to deliver the final piece, about her not being his pimp. When she was done, Gaynor applauded her.
“Brava, mija. Keep me posted,” she said, closing her door. Nicola heard a thud as Gaynor’s head hit her desk, probably a little harder than she anticipated. This was the most hungover she’d ever seen her.
* * *
Billy texted her an hour later, saying that he’d finally rented a car and would be back in LA around five, and that he’d come directly to the office. Nicola went to inform Gaynor. Stepping into her office, she was shocked to see that her boss was now dressed in a completely different outfit, a skintight low-cut red dress with matching heels; her hair was swept into a thick chignon that sat perfectly against the back of her neck, and her makeup was flawless. Her hangover had vanished along with last night’s clothes.
“Did you even leave your office?” asked Nicola, shaking her head.
Gaynor pulled at her dress, ignoring her.
“Billy texted me. He’s just leaving Vegas now; he’ll be here in the office around five.”
“Perfect, mija, perfect. That gives us time.”
“Time for what?”
“A little makeover for you. For us both. I have a little job for you tonight, and I think you will enjoy it. I need you to escort Paul Stroud to a premiere, so I booked us a little salon time for this afternoon. Is that okay? Can Mama pamper you?”
“Well, sure, I guess,” said Nicola, suddenly shy. She looked at her feet. She knew that Gaynor represented her teenage crush Paul Stroud, but he’d never been into the office. She felt a blush starting near her ears and prayed that Gaynor wouldn’t notice it. She changed the subject. “Aren’t you going to call Crystal back?”
“In time. Maybe I will call her while they are waxing my pussy, so the pain will be less. On my pussy, I mean.”
“Wait—we’re going waxing together? How well do you think this date is going to go?”