Ally examined the printed piece of paper in her hand for the longest time, reading through it several times in case she had missed something. "I'm sorry," she said, looking up at Lauren. "You want me to do what?"
"I want you to find a reason for me to be there," Lauren said. "Find me a charity, a cause, whatever. Just let them know I'm coming. Oh, and tell my publicist. I wouldn't mind some press at this event."
Ally looked back down at the invitation. Since when had Lauren cared about art? When was the last time she'd gone out of her way to be anywhere? "Is this about the artist?"
"Yes," Lauren said, looking up from the suitcase on the bed. "Yes, it's about the artist. Okay?"
Ally stared at the actress, unsure of what to say next. She placed the invitation in her portfolio and nodded. "I'll get it done."
"Thanks." Lauren returned to her packing, surveying the items piled up on the bed and running a mental check-list of the things still left unclaimed. "I hate packing."
"I know you do. You should hire a professional packer."
Lauren paused to look at Ally. "Do they have those?"
"I'm sure they do. You want me to look into it for you?"
Lauren made a face. "No. I think that would be a little excessive."
"So, is that all for now? I have about eight billion errands to run before we leave tonight."
Lauren smiled. "You should hire an assistant to do all of that."
"Maybe someday," Ally said, with a laugh. "Adrian and I are working on a screenplay together."
Lauren looked back at her, surprised. "Seriously? He's taken you into the dark side with him, then? What was it he said his next project was about; the trials and tribulations of fruit?"
Ally laughed. "Yeah, he's still working on that, actually. Something about life as an apple. I haven't been able to talk him out of it. Ours is more of a social commentary about... well, we'll let you read it when it's done. So far it's just a bunch of chicken scratch."
"Good luck with that." She meant it, even if she was in no hurry to lose Ally to the outside world. Ally, like everyone else in Hollywood, had dreams that transcended the everyday routine of the nine-to-five job. It had been part of the reason, Lauren knew, why she'd become Lauren's assistant in the first place.
"Thanks," Ally said as she moved toward the door. On the doorway, she stopped and turned around. "Lauren, if you want to talk..."
"About?"
"Anything..."
Lauren looked at her assistant, saw the genuine concern and interest radiating behind wire rimmed glasses. "Camila will have her work in an art show. I want to be there."
"But she won't know it's you."
Lauren shrugged. "I'll know it's me."
"I bet that would be nerve-wracking, seeing her in person."
There were scarier things, Lauren thought, but she honestly couldn't think of any. She smiled. "It's going to be terrifying."
Ally offered a sympathetic smile, then looked serious again. "I know you're going to hate me for asking this but... do you have feelings for her?"
"I admire her artistic talent," Lauren said naturally, easily, as if it were the simplest of truths. "I feel that if I were anyone else in the world instead of who I am, we'd be great friends."
