Free Hollywood Girls Club by Maggie Marr

to get to see you again. You’re coming to the after party. Find me there.”
    Jessica turned to smile, but in an instant, Mike was engulfed by the sea of handshakes and backslaps that were bestowed on a producer at his premiere. For even though Jessica had packaged the project, it was Mike’s film. He’d found her writer’s script, set it up at Summit Pictures, and quickly hired her actor and director. Mike Fox’s ascent to the top of Hollywood, like Jessica’s, had been meteoric; he’d moved rapidly from producer to studio head (a position often reserved for balding middle-aged men) to rehab to producer. Meanwhile, she had stayed at CTA and collected hot male stars, fancy directors, and award-winning writers.
    Jessica’s thoughts were deep in “what ifs” when Lydia Albright walked up behind her.
    “You know, I think he still fancies you,” Lydia said.
    “Mike will always fancy Mike,” Jess said, landing with a thud back in reality.
    “Maybe. But you know he’s cleaned up. No more supermodels or actresses. I hear he’s interested in getting into family entertainment.” Lydia raised her left eyebrow.
    “You forget I have a man.”
    “Yes. When was the last time Phil was home?”
    “That’s a little low, Lyd. He’s working.”
    “I’m just saying . Phil’s great, but he needs to be working less on software and more on getting married. He better get with the program before someone else catches you.”
    “You saw my graceful entrance?” Jessica asked.
    “Nice save. I don’t think anyone who knows you saw it.”
    “Lyd. Everyone here knows me.”
    Lydia smiled. “Come on. Sit with me. I hear this thing is pretty good. Should make a ton of money at the box office this weekend.”
    They walked into the theater. People milled around the rows of seats, talking and smiling, laughing the anxious laughs that come before the start of a film at its premiere.
    “Move fast, here comes the leprechaun,” Lydia said, trying to weave her way past a Corinthian column.
    “Arnold is here? But this isn’t a Worldwide Pictures film.” Jessica whirled around, looking for the telltale red hair.
    “Pre-studio head. He’s an executive producer on the film.”
    “Liideeeaaa!”
    Lydia shook her head. “Let’s pretend we didn’t hear him. Keep moving. The ladies’ room. He can’t follow us in there no matter how feminine he is.”
    Jessica cut through the crowd, heading to the side staircase leading to the basement ladies’ room, but Lydia trailed after her, caught behind a slow-moving executive.
    “Liideeeaaa Albright, I know you hear me.”
    Jessica watched as Lydia took a deep breath, turned around, gritted her teeth, and plastered the professional-producer-who
-
loves-everyone-no-matter-how-much-she-really-hates-them smile across her face.
    “Yes, Arnold, I hear you. How could I not? But you know, you’re so short, it’s difficult to see you and know which direction your voice is coming from.”
    Josanne, ever present at Arnold’s side, let out an audible gasp. Jessica heard a few snickers to her left.
    “Liideeeaaa, you are not making your days on this film,” Arnold said loud enough for everyone two rows in either direction to hear. Public humiliation—so that’s what Arnold wanted.
    Lydia leaned forward and bent slightly as if addressing a toddler. “Arnold, is this really the correct time and place to discuss my film?”
    “I am the head of the studio, Liideeeaaa. I will decide the correct time and place,” Arnold said. “If you’d return my calls, then we wouldn’t have to discuss this now.”
    “You know, Lydia,” Josanne said, “you’ve been very negligent in returning Mr. Murphy’s calls. We’ve left word for you three times today.”
    “Really? I must scold my assistant; she had down that you called four times.”
    “I will not allow you to waste the studio’s money,” Arnold snarled.
    “No, Arnold, I don’t expect that you would. But we aren’t wasting