Clare Naylor - The Second Assistant: A Tale from the Bottom of the Hollywood Ladder

The boss doesnt have to give you a reason. Thats one of the wonderful things about being the boss.

Jimmy Stewart as Alfred Kralik
The Shop Around the Corner

B y Monday morning my devil-may-care attitude was languishing in a discarded heap on my bedroom floor, along with Laras silver shoes, my damp G-string, and the tissues Id used to rub off my eye makeup when I finally made it home from the party. I hadnt even remembered to pick up a goodie bag as I made my getaway from Daniels. So all I was left with now was a feeling somewhere between self-loathing and dread at facing the consequences of my wanton antics. Dread that intensified with every ramp I bumped over as I made my way into the terrible darkness of The Agencys parking lot. Down and down I went, spiraling into the fourth, fifth, and sixth circles of hell until I found a corner so remote that it was unlikely Id meet a cockroach, let alone a coworker of any description.

I finally pried myself out of my car, fearful that if I stayed in any longer with the doors shut, one of the Joss would spot me on CCTV and rescue me from what they would presume was my carbon monoxide death. The Joss, by the way, are one of the best things about The Agency. Theyre two handsome, elderly Mexican guys, one of whom is etiolated like a bolted string bean and the other who comes up to his friends pelt of chest hair. Theyre both called Jos and run the parking lot with the efficiency of a military operation and more cheek than J.Lo. They had smiled sympathetically at me on my first day and ever since had been kinder to me than any other person in the whole place. Whenever I lost my car, they would point me in the right direction without insinuating that I was an idiot. They once gave me a Rice Crispy treat when Id had to spend my lunch hour in the Laundromat getting Victorias gym kit washed. Tall Jos taught me how to work out the profit margins of a movie one day when there was a backlog of cars trying to leave the building, and they always mysteriously seemed to know when I would be needing my car, even for an emergency prune-juice run, and would have it ready. There was something omniscient about the Joss. This morning, when I finally made it to their booth beside the elevator, they were waiting for me.

Ah, you made it. But now you have to go back to your car because its home time, Tall Jos laughed.

Maybe shes too poor to join the gym, so she takes her exercise by walking from her car, the other Jos joined in.

Youre both wrong. I said miserably. I just needed some time for reflection.

Ah, you want to borrow my mirror? I couldnt help but join in their giggles.

Well, Im glad you guys think its funny. Personally, I have more serious matters on my mind.

Ah, yes, we know, Tall Jos said gravely. He was often the less cheery of the two.

What do you know? I snapped, and probably blushed furiously, too.

Si te acuestas con nios, te levantas meado. Short Jos nodded.

What on earth does that mean? I shakily pressed the elevator button. Summoning the very thing that would take me irrevocably to face my personal hell.

If you go to bed with children, youll get covered in pee, Tall Jos explained.

Thanks. I closed my eyes and pondered the meaning of this, but before it sunk in that the Joss must know all about my nearly naked party antics and were undoubtedly offering me some pearl of wisdom, the elevator doors chimed open and I stepped in.

Morning. A young agent from the Lit Department was standing in the elevator in his charcoal gray suit and slick hair, grinning at me. A little too broadly for my liking. I tried to remember whether hed been at the party. But most of it was a blur by now. My brilliant subconscious wouldnt allow me access to my memories of Saturday night in case I murdered myself. I steadfastly ignored him and tucked my chin into my neck and looked at my shoes. He got out on the first floor, and I sailed on up to the next one, wondering what on earth was going to greet me when I walked through the double doors to the assistant pool. Would Scott be standing with his hands on his hips waiting to give me my marching orders? Would my disgrace be splashed across the cover of Variety? Maybe my belongings would already be packed into a box and my replacement would be changing the font on my beloved white Mac from Times New Roman to Arial while helping herself to my emergency stash of Junior Mints.

But it turned out that the place was eerily the same as usual. The assistants who were already in were tucked behind their desks, sorting mail, booting up their computers, and sucking on Jamba Juice with extra echinacea. I made a beeline for my desk and slunk into my seat before anyone could notice. Though in reality none of the assistants would have heard the news of my lurid encounter in the pool anyway, as none of them had been invited to Daniels party. The only reason I had gone was that Id arranged the whole thing in the first place and had to make sure it ran smoothly. I hid my head with shame. If only I hadnt got drunk and overly friendly, I might be able to have some pride in how well the party had gone. Well, until we destroyed the pool, that is.

Still, at least Daniel wasnt waiting for me. There were no e-mails inviting me to discuss my lewd conduct with Human Resources, and Scott didnt seem to be here to fire me. What a relief. I put on my headset as Noah from the mailroom deposited the trades and mail on my desk.

Thanks. I smiled. He smirked before moving his cart on to Talithas desk. I opened the mail: the minutes from Fridays staff meeting, the new issue of Entertainment Weekly with Nicole on the cover, Variety and the Hollywood Reporter without a mention of me on the front page, and an in-house envelope that was bulging, probably with a Charlies Angels action figure for Scott to show to Drew. I stuck my hand inside and pulled out what looked suspiciously like my bra from Saturday night. I stuffed it back in quickly and looked around to see whether anyone had noticed. When I was sure that nobody had, I peered down into the envelope and removed the yellow sticky that was attached to it.

You left this at Daniels house. You clearly need it back.
Best, Ryan

That fucker. I could hear snickers coming from the other desks and assumed that by now there was an e-mail circulating with my breasts on it. I would figure out a way to pay Ryan back for his little stunt on Saturday if it became my lifes mission. I contemplated the old favorites, like lacing his coffee with Visine or setting his computer wallpaper to gay porn.

However, my revenge fantasies were interrupted by a call from Lara, who said she wouldnt be in today. She was ill. She was also very abrupt and didnt say anything that reassured me that I was a valued member of The Agencys team. But I told myself not to be paranoid. The poor girl was sick, and my peace of mind wasnt likely to be at the top of her list of priorities.

I decided to get over myself and get on with my work. That was what I was here for, after all. I looked at Scotts schedule and realized that if he didnt appear five minutes ago, he was going to miss the Monday-morning meeting. This was where all the agents got together and discussed what their clients had on the slate, who they could pitch for different movie parts, which directors they wanted to match up to the hottest new script in town, and whether it wasnt time for a movie about Attila the Hunhe hadnt been done for ages, had he? In short, it was vital that every single agent in the building attended and put forward his or her genius ideas. So where was Scott? I called his cell phone, and a woman answered.