He grinned, turned on his heel and left.
I let out a long, appreciative breath as the adrenaline ebbed away. Whoever messaged him to make him leave so suddenly, I hoped they had a miserable day.
“Ma’am?”
I turned round to see a bored barista holding out a cup. “Sorry. They don’t grow them like that in London.”
The barista cast a glance at the cup. “Whatever. Latte, extra shot?”
Seconds later, coffee in hand, I was crossing the street to the Hartnett Building, pushing my way through the revolving doors. The lobby was cool and dim, with exposed brick and wooden beams a rustic contrast to the sleek glass reception desk.
An impeccably dressed receptionist gave me a key cardand gestured to some turnstiles behind which a bank of lifts waited. “Go on through, tap the security panel by any elevator and take whichever one comes first to the top floor. Juno will be the first person you see, and she will take care of you.”
I thanked her and swiped on through the turnstile, then took the lift as instructed, heart thudding all the while. What would RJ say to me? Could I even live up to the task I’d been set? Because if I didn’t, not only would I be sent back to London with my tail between my legs, but I’d most likely arrive there with a severe case of unemployment.
By the time the lift doors finally opened, I was trembling with anxiety. The combination of jetlag and the comedown from the euphoric meet-cute in the coffee shop had left me with a heady mix of emotions, and so I was relieved the woman waiting for me in RJF reception looked like sunshine personified. She wore banana-yellow dungarees, with tight curls tied back from an open, cherubic face with a silk bandana. Unlike the minimalist reception on the ground floor, her desk was cluttered with half-opened mail, empty coffee mugs and a technicolor vase filled with glorious tulips.
“Hi!” Her voice was husky and sweet. “You must be Lucie! Welcome to RJF. I’m Juno.” She stuck out her hand.
“Nice to meet you.” Her grip was strong and her smile genuine, melting away a speck of the tumult within me.
“Okay, I’m just gonna …” She pulled away and tapped at her keyboard. “RJ’s PA asked me to IM them when you arrived.”
“Oh, yes, Elliot?” I asked, thinking back to what little Lin had discussed with me.
“So, Elliot is RJ’s creative aide, but RJ also has a PA called Vivian, she basically runs his life.” Juno stared at her computer screen for a few seconds then gave a shrug. “Hm, she’s clearly not at her desk. But no problem, I’ll give you a quick tour.”
The office was large and airy, with scuffed wooden floors and pops of technicolor art adorning white walls. After pointing out various offices and the restrooms, Juno took me through a set of doors and then suddenly we were on a spacious balcony, Chelsea Park stretching below like a lush green oasis among a checkerboard of buildings.
“This is your view?” I was overcome with a fleeting sense of unfairness; I’d sat in Temper’s dingy, windowless space for nearly six years while the team at RJF got to experiencethisevery day. Manhattan seemed to stretch for infinity either side of us, windows glinting in the sunlight. “It’s so peaceful up here.”
“I know. It’s great,” Juno agreed. “Come on, I need coffee. You want another one?” She pointed at the cup I was clutching.
I shook my head.
“Well, you need to learn how the machine works,” she said. I followed her inside to a kitchen area tucked away in one corner. “You can help yourself to anything in the fridge.” She then showed me where the mugs were and the coffee machine itself, a professional copper-colored thing that filled the air with the delicious smell of ground coffee.
Hovering by the machine was a stocky woman with a pixie cut, clad entirely in top-of-the-line workout gear engaged in enthusiastic discussion with a blond man close to my age.
“Ah!” Juno said. “Here we have Sadie Styler, RJ’s exec producer.”
I had to take a deep, steadying breath. I had researched all RJF’s employees in preparation, so I knew that Sadie was basically living my dream. As an exec producer, her role was to connect RJ’s work with the commercial side of film distribution. She was the one who would source the funding appropriate for his projects, as well as seek out the sales agents and aggregators to get the film to audiences. RJ had thanked her personally onmore than one occasion at award ceremonies and events. She was the real deal andIgot to work alongside her.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said, vibrating with excitement.
Sadie offered me a tight smile but didn’t step away from steeping her tea to shake my hand.
Juno gestured at the younger man with Sadie. “And this is Sadie’s executive assistant, Ralf.”
Ralf raised a well-groomed brow. “It’s junior producer now, actually.”
Juno viciously shoved a cup under the coffee machine’s nozzle. “Sure it is, Ralf.”
“I can prove it! Want to see my business cards?” Ralf produced a leather card holder from his back pocket, but Juno was already focused on stabbing the coffee machine buttons with zeal. Undeterred, Ralf pushed one on me. Sure enough, ‘JUNIOR PRODUCER’ was there in caps, embossed, no less.
I thanked him, making a show of tucking it into my bag. The guy radiated pure ambition, which made total sense, but it also felt a little like standing too close to an electric fire.
Ralf grinned. “Feel free to come to me if—”
