TWENTY ONE

Ryder

Pictures of attractive women were scattered all over my work space. After going over each one, I separated it into two separate piles: yes and no. There was no group that consisted of "maybe" for me.

Either they did or did not resemble what the producer had envisioned for the final product. I attempted to dispel the idea that I wouldn't find the one in here by rolling my shoulders back in an effort to do so. My eyes started to itch as the stunning, symmetrical, dark-eyed women began to run together in a pack. I didn't usually collaborate with artists who were in the middle of their careers and somewhat unknown, but the producer, Julius Lewis, was one of my closest friends.

Andrew, a mutual friend of both of us, came over and sat back in one of my conference chairs before remarking, "It's kind of like Tinder." "Except for the fact that you continue to print garbage." He had one of his ankles crossed over his knee, and at the same time he was browsing through his phone while tossing one of my signed baseballs into the air, he had his other ankle crossed over his knee.

"I'm from the old school," I said, while having no feelings of hurt. I moved the most recent picture to the side and looked at the void in the middle of the stacks as if a fresh one might materialize if I only waited a few more seconds. If I instructed my assistant to create a new stack, she would have it ready for me in fewer than sixty seconds. There was never a shortage of headshots to pick from at any one time. They showed up without being asked each and every day in the hundreds. I was the one who got it wrong. I was required to take a short rest.

When Andrew noticed that I was getting up from my desk, he said, "Finally." He gave the ball a slap to get it back into the holder, and then he stood up. "Let's go. I need a drink."

After spending another minute putting each pile in its proper place, I moved the baseball in its holder so that the signature of Sandy Koufax, which was scrawled in blue ink between the red stitching, was facing outward. Andrew walked away without checking to see if I was following him. When he returned, he was impatient and knocked on the glass wall that separated my office from the hallway in order to get my attention.

I held up a finger and pushed in the chairs that were arranged around the conference table. This included the chair that Andrew had left pulled out of place and I positioned it so that it faced the window. After that, I decided to get my revenge on him by giving the plants in my office some water.

When I eventually caught up with him in the hallway, he had a frustrated expression on his face.

"You basically pay someone else to do that shit for you," the person continued.

I gave him the finger and chose not to respond to his question. Andrew most likely put cleaning up after him in the job description for his executive assistant (EA). I hadn't. It would not have been worthwhile to make the effort. It was easier for me to do it myself than it would have been to train another person, and I was aware that I had excellent spatial and plant memory. Aside from that, my executive assistant Mina was a wonderful buddy and helped keep the wheels on the bus of my life. Considering how much work she had already accomplished, she would mock me with laughter if I asked her to clean up once I was done.

Andrew congratulated us when we reached the street by saying, "We did it. Another week of this fucking crap."

"It's only the middle of the week."

"I'm sure you understand what I mean."

I did. Andrew managed emergency situations. His longest days were during the weekend, specifically Friday through Sunday. Monday was not a significant improvement. By Tuesday, he was finally able to take a deep breath and catch his breath. The fact that he didn't work on Wednesdays and Thursdays meant that our tight-knit group of pals could only get together for a drink on Tuesday evenings. On top of that, we typically kept ourselves extremely busy throughout the remainder of the week.

At the rooftop bar that we frequently visited, the others were already there waiting for us to arrive. The location was on the highest floor of the tallest structure on this side of the city, and the view from there was unparalleled. When I initially started my job when I was nineteen years old, I would look out at the huge metropolis and wonder how the hell I was ever going to get my hands around her throat. I would gaze out at the city and wonder how the hell I was ever going to get my hands around her throat. I was aware that I would—I needed to—but I was uncertain as to how or how much it would set me back. I simply was aware that there wasn't much of a middle ground in LA, and I wasn't going to let myself go to the bottom.

Because I wouldn't go alone; I'd bring my daughter with me. Because it wouldn't just be me down there.

I was nineteen when Samantha was born, and her mother was only seventeen when she gave birth to her. I didn't understand how badly I wanted her until they put her in my arms; after that, I was willing to sacrifice anything for her happiness. Even in the family business, you should take my position. My father had already established The Williams Agency by the time that I came into the world. Spent more time looking to it than he did his own family, although the outcomes were not significantly improved. The corporation, just like his family, was having a hard time. A few years of prosperity followed by extensive dry spells with no income pouring in. customers moving on to larger agencies in the area. A few legal challenges were lodged. When I was younger, it seemed to me that he spent the majority of his time acting as a babysitter for guys who had powerful jawlines but lacked talent, and for women who had lovely looks but lacked the magnetism of chalk.

My dad had never learned how to choose them, unlike my mom. She was the one who taught him.

I quickly realized that the issue wasn't with me but with the other person. I could see that Samantha's mom had star power from a mile away, despite the fact that she was a pain in my side that I would never be able to totally remove. It felt almost like a tingling sensation under my collar. A constriction in my groin area. I had lust, but not for the celebrity; I wanted the money that the celebrity could bring me. And Samantha.

I'd taken my position in the agency because, let's face it, no one else was offering a job to a nineteen-year-old child with a high school diploma and a new baby at the time. I'd taken my place in the agency because I'd taken my place in the agency. But I was so good at it by the time I was twenty-five and my daughter Samantha was starting kindergarten that I bought my dad out and took over the business. I had an A-list agency by the time I was thirty-one years old, which coincided with Samantha's entry into middle school. I started bringing her to the Academy Awards with me when she was still in high school, which did not go down well with whichever Hollywood actress I was dating at the time. After daughter started college, I made several attempts to convince her to visit for award season, but she was always too busy to come home.

It was a crazy ride. The majority of my friends had not even begun their families when I found myself in the position of having an empty nest. I had finished everything that I'd set out to complete twenty-one years earlier and it felt great. My daughter had developed into a mature adult who was healthy, happy, and successful. I was consistently ranked as one of the top five agents in the company. The city was in my possession.

At this point, I decided to toast it, which was something that made my companions giggle. Despite that, I was confident that they got it.

She was the elusive white whale that we had all been hunting for, almost to the point of insanity. We had all driven our spears deep into her side, almost to the point where we could have fooled ourselves into believing that we had won the battle against her. conscious of the fact that she could still beat the living hell out of us if she so chose.

Andrew echoed my sentiments when he chimed in with a "here's to money" toast.

Michael, a friend of ours who works as a business manager for celebrities, added, "And backend compensation." I couldn't help but shake my head when I saw a Richard Mille Flyback watch wrapped around his wrist. No matter how wealthy I became, I would never spend a half a million dollars just to find out the time.

Lyndon, the chief executive officer of the most prestigious private security agency in Los Angeles, said, "And death threats."

The women at the table behind us immediately turned their attention to him and stared. He made a smirking face and raised his glass to toast them.

Julius looked at me rather than the view outside the window as he continued his sentence, "And to finding the ideal actress to play Sasha."

Andrew admonished him to "Shut up." I had to physically pull him away from his workplace. He planned to spend the entire night looking at headshots.

I completely ignored Andrew while I spoke to Julius and promised that I would locate her. "I just need some more time."

Julius looked at my face for a moment before giving me a nod and then contracting his mouth as he probably ran through the production plan in his brain. The publishing business referred to the book that his company had obtained the movie rights to as a "category buster," and his company had purchased those rights. It outsold all of the other books in its category by a factor of a thousand or more. The devoted following was of enormous proportions. That was a dream come true for every producer, in some respects. Having an audience already present. However, this could also turn out to be a nightmare. Each and every one of those fanatical fans had a specific image in their head of the actress they envisioned playing Sasha, and choosing the wrong one might have been disastrous for the show.

In the end, I was going to have to go back to work tonight. I was on the verge of locating her. I was able to sense it thanks to the development of my sixth sense that occurred when I started working in this industry.

I was about to send Mina a message telling her that I'd need more headshots on my desk when I looked at the time and realized that it was 7:30. She'd already spent the night at home. She would come back and make sure it was done, even though she was seven months pregnant at the time, which was a stupid move on her part. I didn't mind being a jerk when it came to contract negotiations or when it came to telling a client the unpleasant truth, but I always made sure that I handled my personnel with respect.

My phone began to light up in my hand just as I was about to put it away. The happy face of Samantha suddenly materialized. An old photograph from her first trip to Disney World, when she was seven years old and I took her there.

It was the first time since she was born that I felt like I could take a few days off without feeling guilty about it. She was grinning her old smile, which revealed her missing teeth, while wearing princess mouse ears that had her name inscribed on the black dome in hot pink. I gave her one of my best smiles before taking a few of steps down the balcony and picking up the phone to answer it.

"Hey, Sam, what's up with everything?"

Andrew called out to Samantha from our table, saying, "Hi Samantha!"

Samantha greeted everyone with a bright and quick greeting, "Hi, hi." Are you now hanging out with the Uncles?

I responded to her question by saying, "It's Tuesday night."

She replied that it was Wednesday am where she was. She was visiting us in Europe along with a few of her other sorority sisters at the time. To be more specific, Croatia. I had looked for a place to stay in Italy, but it seemed that all that met my criteria was already occupied by tourists. I desired to have a residence in Europe so that I could get away from the heat. After that, Lyndon had me sold on the idea of going to Croatia. His grandparents were still residing there at the time of his visit. His family had its roots there. It had won my heart over completely. The same stunningly blue lake, with around half as many people.

"You don't need anything else? The house manager should have stocked the place before you got there."

"Of course, of course. It's just right. We like it."

Samantha did sound like she was thinking about something else, though.

"Hey, Sam, what's up? What do you need?"

I hit the railing with my fingers. Even though she was twenty one and had been to many places, I hated that she was so far away. When she went to college on the East Coast, I tried to get her back by buying her a condo in Los Angeles. It had failed. My daughter was strong and independent. I guess that means I did something right.

She said, "I kind of do need a favor. "But it's not really for me."

I raised my eyebrows. Samantha rarely asked me for help, and she never asked me to help someone else. She didn't like it when girls tried to use her to get to me. Had one gotten past her defenses? "Oh yeah?"

"Give it to Lexie. You see? My big sister?"

It took me a moment to remember that she was talking about the strange words and phrases her sorority used and not about a half-sister Kim had never told me about.

I said, "Right, I remember her." And I sort of did. I thought she had bright blonde hair and sand-colored skin. A typical girl from California who came from a small town in Ohio. Her mom was the only one who helped her move into the sorority house, and I helped her carry in a purple quilted headboard with daisy buttons holding down the batting. Samantha and Lexie went to Paris together. She was always there when my daughter told me what was going on in her life. I calmed down a bit.

"The blonde," added Samantha.

I said, "I know it's the blonde." "Right, with the single mom?"

“Right. You know, you could still make us sisters."

"Sam, I hope that's not the favor." But I was glad to hear that she was joking. Samantha didn't always find it funny that I didn't always remember the people she talked about or the classes she was taking. Come to think of it, I didn't think it was that funny either. When I set out to take over this industry, this was just one of the costs I wondered about. I gave my daughter the life she wanted, but I didn't give her the family she wanted.

Samantha told me, "Oh no, it's a lot easier than an arranged marriage." "I just wanted to know if Lexie would be a good fit for any entry-level jobs at the agency. She's smart, beautiful, and driven." At the end, her voice went up in a hopeful way.

"An entry-level job," I said again and again as I ran my hand over my head. My thoughts were moving around inside it. Had Lexie been giving Samantha the runaround all along?

"What kind of job exactly is she looking for? Has she checked out the website?"

Samantha's voice trailed off as she said, "Not yet." I knew my daughter well enough to know that she was looking up at the ceiling, pulling at the ends of her dark hair with one hand as she looked for the next words to say in the ceiling.

"Because she doesn't know why I'm calling."

"Sam," I said, feeling tired, but I was glad Lexie hadn't made Samantha do this. People who used my daughter to get to me were the most annoying thing in the world. When I set out to become a top agent in the most sought-after industry in the country, I hadn't even thought about the cost.

"She needs it a lot, Dad."

For one thing, Samantha almost never lied to me, so I had a strong suspicion that the claims she was making were true. In addition to this, whenever she was attempting to deceive me, her voice would always become softer. It had become a calm and unremarkable matter of fact. During the time that she was explaining to me how Lexie had delayed attending law school for a year, I remained silent. It's possible that she's told me this before, but she didn't seem surprised when I couldn't recall it.

After she was through, I assumed, "So she'd need a job and your condo," and I said as much. If I don't pay her rent, then every money that I give her will go toward paying her rent instead.

"You're right, and that's fantastic since nobody makes use of it."

I continued walking until I reached the end of the balcony, at which point I turned around and returned to my companions. Andrew's hands were raised as he looked at me and he was looking at me. After making a sign with my finger that said "give me a second," I turned around to face the city and looked out over it. Despite this, I was not entirely confident. If Lexie was as intelligent as Samantha claimed she was, then she would be aware of what my daughter would do if she listened to a moving narrative.

"Could you, Daddy?"

The tone of Samantha's voice exuded optimism. My daughter had a lot of affection for Lexie and wanted the best for her, despite the fact that she was a skilled manipulator. And if I wanted to know what Lexie's true intentions were with my kid, the only way I could find out was to give in and closely monitor her behavior.

And then, as soon as something goes awry, bring her back to Ohio.