The doorknob surrendered to my sweaty grip with a satisfying click. As I stood there, wiping my palm on my ill-fitting pants, I noticed the janitor had come through with his usual lack of care. A smelly mop bucket sat open by the water fountain, emitting its stink. But instead of bursting in, I had a better idea.

I threw the door open hard enough so they'd know someone was coming, but not so hard I had to see anything I didn't ask for. The effect was beautiful. Their strange duet came to a sudden end, and the air conditioning hummed on, trying to wipe the slate clean. This was my moment.

"Mr. Stevens?" I chirped, making my voice extra chipper, a nervous squeak disguised as enthusiastic professionalism.

Better they thought I was a dumb kid than guess what I really saw. Instant panic ensued. You could've heard a pin drop in that office - or more precisely, the rustling of clothes being hastily re-adjusted. I waited, savoring the moment. What secrets would be revealed next? My heart beat like a trapped bird. Ha! This was way more fun than math class.

A peek through the slightly opened door revealed a dishevelled scene.

Panic ensued as they scrambled to look presentable again. One tossed a throw pillow to the other, who tossed it right back in confusion. Really, just leave it on the floor - no need to make a bigger mess! At last, the silence broke, followed by whispered urgings of "You go!" and "No, you!"

Cautiously peering in, the scene was straight out of a bad porno. Just then, she whirled around with a start. And that's when I almost lost my little breakfast all over the welcome mat.

I blinked several times, hoping the vision before me would change. But no, it was Victoria Sinclair herself, looking just as flawless on the movie screens as disheveled in real life. I have seen every one of her movies, some more times than I'd like to admit. While I didn't know Daniel Hunter that well since just moving to LA, I sure knew Victoria Sinclair was a living legend. She was in the same category as Scarlett Johansson. Both were stars who had their own cult following.  They had different roles – Scarlett Johansson was portrayed as the sexiest, hottest woman in Hollywood while Victoria had an exotic yet sexy look that made her seem very much like anotherworldly goddess. 

There was a brief spark of anger in her eyes as she brushed past, her perfume assaulting my nostrils with a potpourri of floral and earthy scents. Really, lady, a little subtlety next time.

The door remained ajar after her exit, leaving me face-to-face with the aftermath. Mark Stevens emerged a moment later, his tie loosened and his hair slightly ruffled. But unlike Victoria, he seemed relatively composed, with an air of nonchalance about him.

Don't know what I expected, but the man looked ready for his close-up. He flashed a smile that probably charmed billions, but seeing as I just witnessed where else that mouth had been, it had little effect.

I stood frozen, my brain short-circuiting. Mark Stevens, the manager who was supposed to be briefing me, had just been... well, let's just say his briefing methods were a tad unorthodox.

My mind raced with questions. Were office sex part of the job description here? Was it a thing here to be naked and have your employee  fuck you on the sofa? Would I be expected to participate for the sake of my career? If so, I definitely needed to find myself a new position or move elsewhere. Maybe somewhere with less men and more women. Like the Sahara desert! I could live there forever. Or maybe the Himalayas! I could spend every day climbing and swimming in the Himalayas, and only leave when something happened. Like a volcano erupting. Then I could be safe and sound in the mountain caves. That sounded good, too.

This was Hollywood - where scandal and secrets lurked around every corner, and where even A-listers weren't above using their assets to get ahead.

My lips felt dry, and I knew I needed to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence that hung heavy in the air. But my brain seemed to have inexplicably deserted me at this crucial moment.

So, the only words that escaped my mouth were, "Oh god," spoken in a whisper.

~

"Ah, sorry for the wait, Ms...?" he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and squinting at me like I was one of those tiny words at the bottom of an eye chart. "D? P? Which letter am I looking at here?"

I told him my name " Emily...Emily Watson", but it didn't seem to help much. His forehead became all crinkly like when my old teacher Mrs. Johnson tried to understand what I wrote for the weekly current events essay.

"We weren't expecting anyone..." he mumbled, Lost In Translation style. His voice was soft, soothing even, without the slightest trace of sarcasm in it. I felt oddly relaxed around him. Then a little lightbulb seemed to flick on over his head. "Oh riiiight, Veronica must have sent you up! I thought for a second you might be the ghost of assistants past but nope, just a live one named Emily."

Whew, what a relief that was. At least with a name I was real and not dreaming or something worse. "Yep, I'm here to be Daniel's assistant. Unless he's a different Daniel than the one who actually hired me..."

He let out a chuckle that could have woken a hibernating bear. I guessed Mr. Mark Stevens enjoys a good laugh in the morning! "Daniel's new right hand, welcome aboard Emily. Mark Stevens, but everyone calls me Stevo," he grinned.

Stevo? That's a name that says he once stuck a thumb tack to his finger just to make the other third-graders laugh. Some lawyer type but with a personality, so it fits I guess. "Hi, Stevo," I said, trying to keep my voice as cool as his.

He ushered me into his office, which, in stark contrast to the sleek minimalism of the outside corridor, was a cluttered haven of movie posters, awards, and framed photos of Stevo with various Hollywood celebrities.

"So, Emily," Stevo began, leaning back in his chair. The ancient spring inside creaked like a rusty barn door as he reclined. "You're here to wrangle the ever-elusive Daniel Hunter. Let me tell you, it's a task that requires a certain... what's the word I'm looking for?"

He stared off into space like one of those puzzled monkeys at the zoo, scratching his wiry nest of hair. "Panache!" he exclaimed at last, snapping his fingers loudly enough to scare a bird from the nearby plant. "That's it, panache."

"Panache, huh?" I repeated, struggling to hold back a laugh. This man was more animated than a children's cartoon. "Well, let's just say I'm up for the challenge." Though secretly I wondered if my meager supply of panache could survive the week.

Stevo chuckled again. "Good attitude. Now, let's get you up to speed on Daniel's... eccentricities."

I sat down across from Stevo, trying to ignore the lingering smell of sex in the room. He then launched into a detailed explanation of my duties, and my initial excitement began to curdle into a pit of anxiety. Turns out, being Daniel Hunter's personal assistant wasn't just about fetching coffee and scheduling meetings.

The list was long and daunting – managing his social media accounts (including the elusive and rarely used officialdanhunter Twitter handle), scheduling his jam-packed days, acting as a human shield against overzealous fans, and even picking out his clothes for movie premieres.

"Basically, you'll be Daniel's right hand, his girlfriend, his mother, even his therapist at times!" he boomed. Therapist? What had I signed up for. All I wanted was a regular old PA job- fetching coffee, not feelings.

Just as Stevo was about to elaborate on the finer points of dealing with Daniel's diva moments, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Sarah: "How's the first day going? Did you see Daniel yet? Spill the tea, bitch!!! 👀"

My fingers itched to type back: "More like the weirdest day ever. Send help ASAP!! 🤢 🙅‍♀️." But I took a deep breath, determined to stay calm cool, and collected like a cucumber on valium.

I silenced my phone and shoved it deeper into my voluminous purse, alongside a half-eaten protein bar and at least three lost hair ties.

Apparently, there had been an incident involving a python, a fruit basket, and a faulty zip line during the filming of his last movie. I nodded along, only half listening as my mind began to wander. My eyes drifted around Stevo's cluttered office, taking in the piles of memos and magazine covers decorating every surface. It looked like a Office Max had exploded.

My gaze fell on a framed photo of Stevo and some other Hollywood types all squished together on a private jet. Even in the photo, Stevo was doing most of the talking, his mouth stretching wider than the plane's wingspan. The man never seemed to stop yapping. I wondered if when he went to bed at night, he dragged a body pillow along just to have someone to natter at.

As Stevo droned on about Daniel's hatred of bananas or some such nonsense, I spotted a half-drunk mug of coffee sitting amid the mess. A thick scum had formed on the surface. Even from across the room, I swore I could see lumps of cream curdling and congealing like the contents of one of those DIY science experiments gone wrong. Lovely.

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders. This was the movie world, after all. And what good movie didn't involve a little bit of chaos?

"So," I declared, attempting a confident smile, "bring on anything. I'm ready for it."

A slow smile spread across Stevo's face. "Good on you, Emily...very...very...good" he said.

Stevo chuckled yet again, the crinkles around his eyes deepening like the lines on a topographical map. "I do like your spunk, Emily. It'll serve you well with Daniel, that's for sure. Just be prepared for an adventure."

"So," he went on again, "while he is known for his erratic behavior, he also is famous for his high IQ. His work ethic is above and beyond reproach, as are his talents for management. He is the perfect boss, really. You'll learn everything about him here. I'm confident you will enjoy your work."

"Okay." I nodded, feeling like I understood a whole bunch of things.

He continued, "All the information you would require would be found on his desk. For example, the list of upcoming projects, the company plans, and contracts. It would all be accessible to you.  The key points for you would be to follow along with what Daniel tells you and make sure everything works correctly. He does not take kindly to anyone messing with his affairs. I mean seriously, nobody gets off with messing with his shit. So do not screw up. Do whatever he says and don't ask questions because that can turn into trouble for you. Any questions so far?"

"Um yeah, um I mean no problem." I stuttered.

He smiled reassuringly, like I was his little baby girl that needed to be babied whenever daddy was busy doing business.

"Great!"

"But there is one more thing you should know, Em."

I tensed, waiting for whatever he was about to say. I hated getting called Em when it came from other than Sarah. "What's that?"

"Don't get involved with Daniel. He is a very private man, although he likes to brag sometimes that we are closer to family than friends. But you better tread lightly, Emily. Don't get too close. It will end badly for both you and him, trust me."

I frowned, trying to process all of these details. "Why?"

Stevo sighed deeply and leaned forward once more. "Because he has a reputation as a ladies' man. A notorious rakehell in fact, with more conquests than you can count. Trust me when I say this; Daniel has no intention of becoming serious with anyone. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up being single forever. Which isn't necessarily such a bad thing, Emily, considering his track record when it comes to relationships and love."

"Oh, uh okay." I said lamely.

"You'll be given some free reign over Daniel's schedule, although it won't be easy. There are a lot of meetings, conferences, and promotional events that require his full attention. However, I will arrange a meeting between you and him in sometime soon, and you'll learn the ins and outs of how things work here. We all have our roles to play, and that role changes constantly."

"Gotcha," I nodded.

I noticed that Stevo was eyeing me up carefully before continuing. "One last thing." He paused, staring me directly in the eye. "Why don't you smile girlie, you're starting to look nervous."

I blinked, startled. Had he seen through me so quickly? "Oh, um...sorry." I attempted a bright, cheerful smile, thinking he couldn't possibly know that my teeth hurt from grinding them against each other and I wanted nothing more than to sink my own set of fangs into someone's neck.

Thankfully Stevo returned the smile, albeit reluctantly. "No worries. Now, as I was saying-"

Taking a brave gulp of air, I braced myself for Stevo's latest tale of diva drama. But just then, a shrill ringtone pierced the cluttered office - the ominous opening notes of MJ's "Smooth Criminal."

"Hold that thought," he instructed, turning to the phone on his desk.

Stevo grabbed the phone with lightning speed. "Whaddya want, Kevin?!" he barked into the receiver.

I hid a grin. From the sound of it, Kevin was on the receiving end of yet another Stevo scolding. This gave me a blessed moment to crane my neck and examine the crowded shelves without fear of interrogation. Among the clutter were six Oscar statuettes, a deflated beach ball signed "Thanks for the memories! - Oprah", and dozens of headshots memorializing Stevo's glory days as a backup dancer for Milli Vanilli. This man is something!

OH AUNT MILDRED YOU WERE SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS PLACE

~

With my head spinning like one of those cartoon characters who just got bonked on the noggin, I stood up to take my leave. "Alrighty then, Stevo," I said, trying to sound confident but really feeling like I just chugged a glass of pickle juice chased with baking soda. "I think I've got enough information to keep me busy until I'm old and gray. Assuming I don't keel over from the shock of it all first!"

He let out a little chuckle that sounded vaguely sinister, like he knew some secrets I didn't. "Don't you fret too much kid, it won't all be bad. Why, with a view like Danny Boy's got, you might even enjoy the view once in a while."

His words did give me a little hope, but as I reached for the doorknob my eyes drifted to the boob tube mounted on the wall. It was tuned to the usual bad news channel, and there staring back at me was none other than Daniel Hunter himself. Only this time his pearly whites were nowhere to be seen - just a frown that could curdle milk. The headline scrolling by threatened to reveal his latest "lady friend", like we were all just waiting with bated breath.

"Daniel Hunter in Latest Dating Scandal: Who is the Mystery Brunette?"

You could have pushed me over with a feather, I was so stunned. I whipped around to Stevo, feeling like one of those owl dolls with pop-out eyes. "Did you see...? On the box!" I sputtered, doing an impression of a scarecrow in a tornado.

"Ho ho, welcome to life in the Hunter fast lane!" Stevo grinned like he was enjoying this whole awful spectacle. "Daily scandals, secret rendezvous caught on film, celebrity interviews, and daily tabloid news articles and... enough gossip to gag a magpie. All in a day's work, I'd wager."

"Peachy," I mumbled, already dreaming of crawling back under my coverlets with a mug of cocoa. Somehow I didn't think babysitting a celebrity was going to be all fun and games...

"You'll get used to it,...kid" Stevo patted my shoulder in a way that was probably meant to soothe but mostly made me want to find a moist towelette. "Now off you pop to the 25th floor. Veronica will give you the grand tour and Daniel should be back any minute."

"The 25th floor?!" I parroted, head swirling.

"Yup, the penthouse. Quite a view, actually. Just wait there, and he'll be with you sooner or later."

~