The Wright Fit

1- Sh*t Happens

Coffee. Trickling down my clammy fingers, spilling onto the hem of my satin slip, splattered on the pavement behind me. Coffee. Fucking. Everywhere. Getting morning coffee was part of the job description; the spilling, however, was due to a combination of my perpetually jittery hands and the knobby streets of Los Angeles. That, and I am almost always late.

I don't drive. Some say it's impossible to live in LA without a car. My advice? Have friends who drive. Alternatively, set aside three extra hours in your day to take the metro. I live two blocks away from work just so that I never have to do either.

I barely manage to rest the coffee trays on the reception counter before Heather tuts at me, her finger tapping the glass on her wristwatch. "Cutting it close," she teases.

"I like to start my morning with an elevated heart rate," I retort, already having thought of a witty comeback last night. "Got her messages for today?"

Heather doesn't reply as she swipes her coffee from the tray – the only one with ice – and replaces it with a girthy stack of note cards.

"Geez, how is Blair supposed to oversee all of these over the holidays?" I glance through the notes briefly, mentally sorting them out by priority.

"Well, there are five of me," Blair appears and then promptly disappears behind me, already in her office before I could hear the door close.

Heather flashes me a smirk and I flash her one back. We aren't always the nicest to each other but we have one thing in common: we love working for Blair Simmons. I wedge the note cards into my underarm as I grab Blair's coffee and sip on my own. Heavy on the cream, light on the sugar – in case you were wondering. I believe you can tell a lot about a person based on how they take their coffee. And Blair takes hers black.

"Alright, give em to me," she says, her eyes never leaving her computer screen.

I set her coffee down and start with the most pressing matter. "Your 11 a.m. wants to reschedule to –"

"No," she cuts me off before I can complete the sentence. "Tell him I'll be unavailable through the holidays. He can either come today or wait until the 2nd. Next."

I quickly jot down her response before moving on to the number 2 on the list. "Cartier has agreed to loan you the necklace for 5 hours during tonight's event but they're requesting clearance for security." I sip nervously on my coffee.

She looks up at me for the first time, "How many?"

"Two," I squeak.

A groan escapes her lips but she quickly sends a voice message dealing with the matter then nods at me to continue, "Next."

"Oh," I get excited for this one. "Beau's manager emailed over a list of pre-approved brands he can work with."

Blair shoots me a look of disgust as she takes the first sip from her cup. "Pre-approved brands? God, fame has made my brother more pretentious, if that's even possible."

I swoon. Just the mention of his name sends a montage of movie scenes flashing through my mind. Beau Simmons, Blair's younger brother of five years, whose career only started after she had featured him in a write-up of up-and-coming mixed-ethnicity models. Now, he's Hollywood's leading man for everything from Rom-Coms to Action-Adventure franchises. Even as a biased fan, I would have to admit that it had less to do with his acting skills than it did his undeniably good looks. They both share the same dark hair and sandy complexion, only Blair has brown eyes while Beau's were a deep green. Their mother was Chinese and their ancestry on their father's end was a hazy blend of Welsh, Norwegian and Italian. I think it made for exotically stunning children, that fit perfectly into current-day Hollywood's strive for diversity on screen.