Hollywood Is Like High School with Money by Zoey Dean

Author:Zoey Dean
Format: mobi
Tags: Calif.), Hollywood (Los Angeles, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), Fiction, Fiction - General, Popular American Fiction, Chick lit, General & Literary Fiction, Motion picture industry, General
ISBN: 9780446697194
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-07-23T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Hi, is Bob Glazer there please? It's regarding Holden MacIntee. This is Taylor Henning," I

added, just in case the assistant on the other line didn't recognize my voice after three days of

messages. I felt a little ridiculous, but as my mother always said, "Persistence removes

resistance!" As a kid, I'd pictured resistance as a laundry stain.

"Oh... hi," he said limply. "I don't think I can get him right now."

"Are you sure?" I chirped, tapping my pencil on my desk. "I'll hold."

The assistant sighed. "Let me see if I can get him," he muttered and put me on hold.

I stared at the clock on the wall. Kylie had blown out her candle and left for the day while I was

still here, pestering this poor assistant with my pushiness. Not surprisingly, getting a meeting

with Holden MacIntee was proving to be as impossible as getting a table at Sushi Roku on a

Saturday night.

"Bob Glazer," a voice suddenly said in my ear.

"Hi, Bob, this is Taylor. I'm calling from Metronome," I said, eagerly leaping into my spiel,

"and I was wondering if there's any chance that I can--"

" Who are you?" Bob asked, as if I were a small child who had wrestled the phone away from

her parents.

"Taylor Henning. From Metronome."

"And you're a creative exec?" he asked.

"No, actually," I said reluctantly, "I'm an assistant, but I may have a project to discuss with

Holden." It would have helped if I'd dropped Iris's name, but since I couldn't risk this getting

back to her, I kept my mouth shut.

"Sorry, he's committed through 2010," he said. "And we don't deal with assistants." Then he

hung up.

I threw down my headset on top of my list of Good Things and Bad Things. ( Good Things:

my brilliant movie idea; lost three pounds by following lead of salad-bar girls. Bad Things:

possibly allergic to Kylie's aromatherapy candle; Cabbage peed on my favorite bra when I left

it drying in the bathroom.) Zero for three, I thought. Now that I'd run through the Holy Trinity

of Hollywood gate-keepers--agent, publicist, and manager--I was out of ideas as to how to

reach Holden MacIntee. What was I supposed to do? I briefly wondered how the paparazzi

always knew how to find their prey. Should I hang out at Winston's and hope he showed up?

Should I figure out where he lived and then stake out his house? God, I thought, I was starting

to sound like a stalker. And not a nice, harmless, epistolary one either.

I glanced at my IM buddy list and saw that Brett was still at work, too--he was often my

partner in late-night drudgery. We'd chat on IM and, when things got really bad, pick up the

phone (who else would sing me an ABBA song in totally off-key falsetto?).

JournalGirl07: Hey, I need your help

Bduncadonk: Anything for you Miss Thing!

JournalGirl07: Thx. Need to reach Holden MacIntee. Already tried the holy trinity.

Bduncadonk: I heart you but... you're screwed. Drinks later?

JournalGirl07: Sigh. Yeah.

I watched the cursor blip back and forth, feeling helpless. But then I had a thought.

There was still my sixteen-year-old secret weapon.

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