Darcy in Hollywood

“Or unicycle.”

“What about…rickshaw?” Lydia asked, nearly breathless.

“I know, I know! Submarine!” He could barely get the words out through the peals of laughter.

As the conversation continued in this vein, Elizabeth decided she had little to contribute to suc

h hilarity. She stood. “I think I’ll go get a drink.”

The others didn’t appear to notice. “How about…camelback?” Lydia chortled as Elizabeth left the room.

After stopping by the bar for a rum and coke, she then heard someone call her name. Bill Collins sidled up, wearing a Hawaiian shirt in eye-watering colors. Really, there should be a law specifically against that garment. He held a daiquiri nearly as neon as his shirt.

“Hi, Bill. Is Mrs. de Bourgh here as well?” Boy, there’s someone I wouldn’t want at my party.

“No.” Bill swayed a bit on his feet. “She and Cecil have a joint beauty appointment. They will get matching hair styles and manicures.”

Elizabeth tried to picture this. “That’s really”—she tried to find a neutral adjective—“Hollywood.”

“Isn’t it?” Bill threw his head back and roared a laugh so loud that everyone in the room turned to stare.

Had it been half an hour yet? Elizabeth began to calculate how quickly she could make it to her car.

Bill stepped closer to her. “I wanted to talk to you, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.” Backing away, Elizabeth bumped up against the plate-glass window.

He was standing well within her personal zone of comfort. “I’m a personal assistant, and you’re a production assistant.”

Elizabeth slid sideways to create some distance from him. “Yeah. People in Hollywood seem to need a lot of assistance.”

His breath smelled like rum. “Maybe we could…assist each other.” In case she had misunderstood, Bill punctuated his words with a couple of uncoordinated pelvic thrusts that unfortunately recalled her uncle’s attempts at twerking.

Maybe she should ignore the innuendo and respond to the face value of the words. “I’m sure we could help each other out around the set. That’s a good idea.” She inched further away, but he followed, hovering far too close for comfort.

“That’s not what I meant,” he slurred. “I’m saying I could assist you with your…needs.” He leered.

Or maybe she should just play along. Elizabeth leaned closer, giving him a little glimpse of cleavage. “That’s great. You are so generous. Right now, what I need is a gin and tonic.”

“Oh. Oh.” He straightened the hem of his ghastly shirt. “I will obtain said drink for you, miss! Stay right there.” He pointed to an exact spot on the floor. Turning quickly, he staggered and bumped into an end table. “Excuse me, madam,” he said to the furniture before lurching toward the bar.

Okay, that was it. Time to cut her losses—and quickly, before Bill returned.

“Lizzy!” Charlotte hurried up to her, wearing a plain and practical one-piece bathing suit. “Did I see Bill Collins?”

“Yeah, he went to the bar. We can go this way.” Elizabeth waved in the opposite direction.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to him some more…about dogs. He’s very knowledgeable. Mama’s Pekingese has been having stomach problems.”

“Oh. Okay.” Elizabeth couldn’t imagine anyone volunteering for a conversation with Bill Collins.

Charlotte lowered her voice. “I kind of like him. He’s different from any other guy I’ve ever met.”

“He’s different all right.”

“After the last two losers I dated…” She shuddered.

Charlotte’s last two boyfriends had been big losers. One had become verbally abusive when anyone mentioned llamas, and the other had collected refrigerator door handles. Actually, maybe Bill would fit right in…