Chapter 1
Aiden Jamison moved with a quiet magnetism, his presence filling a room not with noise, but with a subtle, undeniable charisma. His laughter, a familiar sound that still sent a gentle electricity dancing through my veins, leaving me both captivated. The faint, alluring scent of his cologne, a signature blend, always intertwined with the sterile office aroma, creating an intoxicating mix that was uniquely him.
He’d been an unknown, plucked from obscurity, only to be cast in “Love Is Never Saying Goodbye,” an action film produced by his wife, Emma. He needed an agent. JJ Holt, my boss, was always on the hunt for a diamond in the rough, a client who could propel her career. In Aiden, she found just that.
As London Holloman, the gun-for-hire, Aiden captivated audiences, saving the world and, inevitably, winning a woman’s heart. Overnight, he transformed into a megastar, elevating him and Emma to Hollywood’s new power couple. Over the next several years, he starred in multiple “Love” films, as they were now called, and expanded his empire into clothing, furniture, and houseware lines, generating millions annually. According to the Hollywood Reporter, he’d earned ninety-eight million last year, yet he remained remarkably grounded. He radiated gratitude, never presenting a laundry list of demands. In fact, of all JJ’s clients, he was the easiest to manage – as long as you didn’t have to deal with Emma, who could be… a problem.
For years, I, Atticus Fairbanks, had tried my best to maintain a professional demeanor around Aiden and Emma, but I’d embarrassed myself on more than one occasion. JJ never explicitly said anything, but there were times she went to great lengths to keep me from interacting with him. It’s possible he didn’t even know my name. But the MeToo movement was about to change everything.
In 2001, in the opulent Hollywood Hills, a talent agent named Harrison Winters had shamelessly abused his power. He told Camille Steel that a major role was hers, but only if she slept with him. Camille got the part, yes, but she was paid less than her male co-star and endured further sexual exploitation at the hands of Harrison and his friends. Years later, his past finally caught up to him. The agency where JJ and Harrison worked was collapsing. Aiden convinced JJ to strike out on her own, promising his unwavering support. So, in the dead of night, we’d cleared out her office. Now, back at her house, we were in a frenzy, calling clients, trying to persuade them to join the new agency. It took all night, but we managed to secure most of JJ’s roster. Well, almost all.
“Hello, are you still there?” Lora’s voice, tinged with a self-importance that far outweighed her actual influence, pulled me back to the present.
“Yes,” I snapped, checking her file.
“I don’t understand why JJ isn’t telling me this herself?” she whined.
“She apologizes, but she had to speak with the Studio,” I explained, biting back a laugh when I saw her next gig was “Second Corpse” on some detective show.
“Good lord, they aren’t trying to back out, are they?”
“No, no. She just wanted to ensure it would be business as usual.”
“Good. You know, I don’t understand this MeToo movement. Back in the day, sleeping your way to the top was just considered the cost of doing business.”
“Oh my, I really must go, but I’ll put your name on JJ’s call sheet,” I interjected, cutting her off and hanging up before she could utter another word.
“Remind me why I keep her?” JJ asked, shaking her head.
“Because she was your first client, and you’re not sure anyone else could handle her.”
“I curse my mother for raising me to think of others. Go home,” JJ said.
JJ, ever the mother hen, stood a compact five feet tall. In her fifties, with short, vibrant blonde hair, she defied her age. Her youthful energy was a current, a vibrant spark that ignited every room she entered. She was a constant flurry of motion, as if powered by an internal espresso machine, fueled by an inexhaustible supply of optimism and caramel macchiatos.
“Are you sure?” I asked, looking at the makeshift office we’d set up in her den. “There’s still so much to do.”
“Yes. I’m going to need you back around three to get ready for the meetings I have tonight. I need you to be at your best.”
I didn’t argue. I grabbed my cell phone and headed for my car. “If anything comes up, just call me, okay?”
“Sure thing,” she said, walking me to my car. “And can you get this car washed? After all, you’re an executive assistant now.”
“Then pay me more.”
“I know. We’ll talk about it, I promise. Just not right now.”
Money had been a recurring point of contention between JJ and me. I understood she’d had to comply with HR’s rules at the old agency, but now that she had her own, she’d promised me a raise and training to become an agent. I fully intended to hold her to that.
Traffic was a nightmare, and all I wanted was to get home and see my boyfriend before his call time – for a change, he actually had a paying gig this week. I was looking forward to falling into bed and cuddling up with Jonah, but my annoyance flared when I saw he hadn’t cleaned up like he said he would.
“Dammit,” I muttered, barging into our room. My voice died in my throat. Next to my naked boyfriend, a naked woman lay sprawled. “What the hell is this?” I roared, and the woman’s eyes fluttered open.
“I thought you told him already?” the woman asked, kicking Jonah.
“Fuck, fuck,” was all he could stammer. “I didn’t think you’d be home till much later. We need to talk.”
“You think?”
“I’ve had a great time with you. You give great blow jobs, but this was just something I was trying, and I’m done. I’m just going back to women.”
“If that’s what you want, fine. Now, grab your things and your dog, and get out of my apartment.”
“Sorry, dude, but this is my apartment,” Jonah said with a smug smirk.
“Oh, really. We’ll see about that,” I seethed, storming out and heading down to the manager’s apartment. After all, he hadn’t paid the rent in months. Unfortunately, I discovered my name wasn’t on the rental agreement, and I had to leave. Two hours later, my car packed with my belongings, I drove away, regretting that I had ever met Jonah.
The big question was: where do I go? My first thought was JJ’s, but I didn’t want to live and work in the same place. So, I called my friend Victoria.
“It doesn’t make me happy to say I told you so, but I told you so,” Victoria said as I drove aimlessly. “I told you guys like him are like DVD rentals. Lots of fun at night, but best returned in the morning before they cost you more money.”
“I know, I know. Hey, I was just wondering if you’d found a tenant for your place yet?” I asked Victoria, a longtime friend and makeup artist in Toronto who was trying to rent out her Hollywood condo while she was away shooting a film. Despite her efforts, the condo had been vacant for six months, and I was desperately hoping I could rent it.
“Fuck, just last week. Sorry, any other ideas?”
“Yeah, I’ll crash at JJ’s for now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t have a choice. Anyway, she owes me after the last couple of days.”
“If you ask me, she owes you for more than that. I’ve lost count of the times you’ve saved her ass over the years.”
“That’s my job,” I said, hoping to avoid discussing how JJ, like so many others in my life, seemed to use me.
“Look, I gotta go. I have actors waiting for me, but text me and let me know where you end up, okay?”
“Okay, bye.”
JJ was incredible. Not once did she say “I told you so.” “Please get your car washed,” she said, hugging me. “I can feel it lowering my property values already.”
JJ’s mansion was magnificent, surely costing a small fortune, but I imagined she could afford it, with no kids or husband. A big-time producer had built it in the 1920s. It was massive, featuring dark oak walls and plush carpets. Since JJ lived alone, several of the ten rooms were empty. I chose one of the few with a bed and set up my things. After a shower, I lay down for a nap, but two hours later, JJ woke me in a panic.
“I got it! I said I got it!” JJ screamed into her cell phone before hanging up and looking at me with wild eyes. “Thank God you’re here. I need you to do something for me, no questions asked.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to shake off the sleep. “What?”
“I need you to drive to Burbank Airport, to the private jet entrance. Speak to a guy named Vinny, and only Vinny.”
“Okay,” I said, confused.
“Vinny will load your car with pineapples,” she said, grabbing me by both arms. “Shit, did you unpack your car?”
“Yes, before I took my nap. JJ, please tell me you didn’t try cocaine again. I thought we agreed you can’t handle drugs.”
“Not funny. These pineapples are very, very important. Once Vinny has loaded your car with them, you’re to drive straight back here. You must not stop for anything. For any reason. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah. What’s so important about these pineapples?”
“I can’t tell you. Trust me; it’s better this way. Sorry. It’s just that this is going to be one of the most important things you ever do in your career.”
As I drove off, my imagination ran wild. What could be so important about pineapples? What if they were filled with heroin? “Oh my God, Oh my God,” I freaked out, yelling. After all, this kind of thing always ends poorly for the assistant. I did my best not to dwell on it, turning on the radio, hoping the music would distract me from thoughts of drug smuggling.
It took forever to reach Burbank, and, of course, Vinny wasn’t at the gate. A grumpy guard asked me to hold on while I waited news about Aiden came on the radio.
“Aiden Jamison is wanted for questioning regarding one of his company’s trucks that was stopped at the border last night, full of drugs. The DEA declined to disclose how many drugs were involved, stating only that Aiden Jamison is not a suspect; they simply wish to ask him a few questions.”
Oh no, what are we going to do if he’s involved? I was texting JJ to ask her about it when a short, round guy came running up to my car. “Atticus?”
“Yes,” I said as he opened the door and got in. Then, seeing my phone, he snatched it.
“Just what in the hell are you doing?” he demanded, opening the back of my phone and pulling out the SIM card and battery.
“What the fuck? I need to text JJ,” I protested.
“You don’t need to do anything, especially with your phone, until we load up your car and you’re on your way,” Vinny said.
“With the pineapples?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“Yeah, with the fucking pineapples. I want to make it very clear in case JJ asks you later that I was against what we are about to do,” Vinny said. Before I could question him further, he interrupted me. “No more questions until you load your car. Now drive. The quicker this is over, the better.”
“And my phone?”
“You’ll get your phone after we load the car,” Vinny said.
I followed Vinny’s directions across the tarmac to a distant hangar. When we reached the entrance, he exited and opened the hangar doors, and I drove inside. I could see the jet plane on the far side of the hangar, and it looked like someone was moving.
“He wants to talk to you first,” Vinny said, opening the car door.
“Me? No, no. I don’t think JJ would…”
“When the man with the money says jump, what are you gonna do? Let’s get moving ’cause I don’t have all day.”
