The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [136]
Vivienne’s smile slipped. “Not taking over, Alice,” she corrected. “Co-agenting. I’m still representing them all. You’ve just been…handling some of the grunt work on my behalf, for a little while.”
Alice froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Vivienne shrugged. “What it always meant, darling. I happen to have some time for a new project. And Kieran’s showing such promise…”
“Because I worked with him!”
“Now, now,” she scolded Alice with a faintly parental air. “There’s no room for possessiveness in this business, darling. We’re all one big family at Grayson Wells.”
Alice couldn’t control the note of challenge that slipped into her tone. “So you’re taking him back?” she asked, just to be sure.
“Back? Oh, sweetie.” Vivienne laughed. “He was never yours. At the level they’re at now…Kieran and dear Julia are in need of someone with real experience.” Vivienne flashed her a smile: deadly, and full of victory.
Alice glared back.
“You didn’t think I would just let you run riot with my client list, did you?” Vivienne narrowed her eyes, her vivacious act finally slipping to reveal pure steel. “I have a responsibility to them, to protect their interests. You still work for me, you know. Oh, and one other thing,” she added, just as Alice was about to leave. “ I need you to coordinate the hiring of a new assistant.”
“Saskia’s leaving?” Alice could barely even muster surprise. Now which was it, the breakthrough role in an upcoming Brit flick or a relationship with an aging, yet generous, producer?
“Not leaving, promoted.” Vivienne allowed a small smile to cross her scarlet lips. “I’m making her a junior agent.”
Alice felt her mouth drop open. By the smug look on her boss’s face, this was exactly the reaction she’d been after, but even that knowledge couldn’t help Alice maintain some façade of self-control.
“Saskia, an agent?” she repeated slowly, remembering how the girl could barely operate the photocopier, let alone take responsibility for an actor’s livelihood.
“Yes.” Vivienne beamed, the glossy black of her freshly dyed hair matching—Alice thought bleakly—the dark recesses of her heart. “I gave you a chance to prove yourself, but I think it’s clear you’re best suited to the contract work, so I’ll be training her up instead. I think she shows a lot of promise,” she added cruelly. Alice could only stand there, numb.
“So, place an ad in the usual place,” Vivienne instructed briskly. “And handle the interviews. You know the drill! Oh—” She stopped before leaving. “We’re having a little party to celebrate. Down at the bar at five. I know you’re not much of a drinker, so would you mind covering the phones?” Then she was gone, leaving Alice to slump her head and despair.
***
Alice seethed for the rest of the week. She’d taken her risk to become an agent—to prove she had some hustle in her, after all—but now Vivienne was never going to forgive her. It was becoming painfully clear that as long as she stayed at Grayson Wells, she wouldn’t see one ounce of respect.
“So, quit.” Nathan hugged her closer, landing a supportive kiss on her forehead as the taxi wove its way through evening traffic. “Tell the witch where to shove her broomstick, and just get out.”
“To go where?” Alice replied, already tired of a conversation she’d had two dozen times in her own head. “In case you haven’t noticed, the economy isn’t exactly booming. And without references…” She sighed. “Vivienne is claiming credit for everything I did with Kieran and Julia. As far as anyone else is concerned, I don’t have any experience.”
The cab drew up on the corner, and they climbed out, dashing through the rain toward the restaurant. “Look, let’s not talk about it,” Alice said, ducking into the tiny entrance. “Any mention of Vivienne is just going to keep me stressed. I want to just relax.”
“OK.” Nathan shook water out of his hair. He looked bedraggled but sturdy, and Alice sank against him for a quick hug, glad of his arms around her. “Whatever you want.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
***
Inside, it