Darcy in Hollywood

Jane squeezed her hand. “Of course.”

I can always rely on Jane. Elizabeth’s eyes stung; apparently head injuries made her maudlin.

A gleam in her mother’s eye suggested she was about to return to the subject of Darcy. Quickly Elizabeth asked, “How did the table read go?”

“Lydia was magnificent!” their mother gushed before anyone could say anything else. “Her line reading about the meatloaf was so nuanced.” She nodded approvingly at her youngest daughter. “I knew that adding a little more irony would create the subtlety the line needed.”

Lydia preened at the compliment while Kitty slouched into her customary pout. Mary was just as happy to be ignored by their mother since she was quietly steering her career toward being a camera operator, but Kitty resented not getting her share of maternal attention.

“Mom, you weren’t at the table read,” Ja

ne pointed out.

Franny shrugged. “Lydia told me all about it.”

“How was William Darcy?” Elizabeth asked her father.

He glanced up from his phone as if surprised to be asked about an event he had overseen. “Oh. Good. Good.”

Jane smiled benevolently at her father’s absentmindedness. “Will was terrific, Lizzy. I think he’ll be great in the role. He’s got a real star quality, you know?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth did know. Nearly being wiped out by Darcy’s car had momentarily muted the effect, but she had noticed how others responded to him. He possessed that ineffable charisma that rolled off some actors in waves. Unfortunately, most such actors were real jerks and shameless in using that charisma to bulldoze their way through everyone else. She was not excited about six weeks of hanging around with a prime specimen of Hollywood privilege.

Her father scowled at his phone. “I just got a text from Darcy’s manager. His personal assistant quit, so he’ll need someone on set. Lizzy, could you be—”

Elizabeth didn’t need her father to finish the sentence; it would be a cold day in hell. “Oh no, no, no!” Elizabeth shook her head vigorously but stopped when the movement made her dizzy. “I will not be his personal assistant! Get Anoop or Monica.”

“Anoop is working with the location scout, and Monica doesn’t have the patience.”

“I don’t have the patience to deal with William Darcy’s crap either. He almost ran me over.”

Her father regarded her over the rim of his reading glasses. “Almost is the operative word here, Lizzy. If he had actually run you over, I wouldn’t ask you.”

Because I’d be dead. Elizabeth managed to stifle a slightly hysterical giggle. “I just can’t.”

His expression was slightly panicked. “Some of the backers are spooked by Darcy’s recent incident—and they don’t even know about today’s crash, thank God. I need someone who can keep an eye on him. Someone who won’t smuggle booze or drugs to him.”

“What about when he goes home at night?”

Her father waved this away. “He’ll have weekly drug tests. I just want someone reliable working with him on set.”

Elizabeth imagined fetching lattes and dry cleaning for the man who had given her a concussion and hadn’t bothered to apologize.

“I really need this, Lizzy,” her father said pleadingly. “I’ll pay you double.” Now that was an incentive. Medical school wasn’t cheap.

Elizabeth let her shoulders sag. She was going to hate this. “All right, but I’m only responsible for him on the set. I have med school applications to work on.” She didn’t even want to think about how far behind a night in the hospital had put her.

Her father nodded eagerly. “Of course, of course.”

Jane had watched their back and forth apprehensively. “I hope this works out, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I hope so, too.”

***

With his car out of commission, Darcy was forced to call his chauffeur to pick him up at the studio. Raoul hadn’t been expecting the call, and the trip through L.A. traffic took a while, so Darcy was forced to cool his heels longer than he would have preferred—the cherry on his crap sundae.

Finally, Darcy’s limo pulled up in front of Building 4, and he slid gratefully into its air-conditioned comfort. The car glided forward, smoothly navigating the studio’s streets and slowing as they waited while the studio gate slid open.