Hollywood Hills 1 Read Free Page B

looked in those bright blue eyes, but it never seemed to matter to him. He’d shake his head and a little dimple would appear in his cheek as he tried not to smile. It made him look more adorable, which in turn left me blushing even harder—a hopeless situation all around.
    It had been a hard weekend alright . And things were just going to get harder.
     
    * * *
     
    I didn’t have the guts to do it that day. Not when Archer had been so nice. But by Thursday, I had no more time left. Archer was working on a new documentary. It kept him excited, and busy… and was also hastening my plans.
    I waited until the end of the day, when most of the offices were empty. I locked the door as soon as I was in the Edit Suite.
    Archer was proud of this new documentary. I could sense it, in the way that he talked, and his hands moved when describing it. It was still in the early stages of production—resource gathering, that sort of thing—and a shroud of secrecy covered the project. All research materials were kept under tight lock and key.
    Unfortunately, as his assistant I had an all access pass.
    I walked across thick carpet to shelf upon shelf of tape sitting in neatly ordered rows. Archer had shown me the room on his tour the first day. It had taken me until now to work up the nerve to come back.
    The tapes were broken down by project, subject and then finally by date. I hit pay dirt quickly—one of the cases was labeled J-9/23 . Bingo.
    I slid the tape from the row and looked it over. I hadn’t been told what the tape held, only that the conversation it contained was important. I gripped it tightly, only realizing then that I’d been hoping it wouldn’t be on the shelf.
    It had all seemed so simple, when I’d agreed all those weeks ago . I closed my eyes, thinking back to the conversation.
    “The dialogue you’re looking for took place on September 23 rd ,” the cigar smoking figure had said. I could still remember blue smoke wafting across the room, and the smell—which had made me feel sick, and want a cigarette, all at the same time.
    “You’ll find a copy in the editing room. Don’t take it. He’s bound to notice it missing. Just do what needs to be done, then put it back.”
    I had nodded, feeling nauseous from more than the smoke, now.
    “The master copy he keeps on his person at all times, from what I’m told. You’ll have to get your hands on that in some other way.” He’d winked, waving a plain manila file at me. “From what I can tell in this folder, I’m sure you’ll have no problems thinking of something.” I’d actually rushed from the room and been sick, then. He’d laughed as I ran out.
    Now I was holding one of the tapes, and bile was rising in my throat once more. Archer had been so kind to me! He’d sent me flowers, and I got shivers every time we touched, and I think I was falling for him…
    I shook my head. This wasn’t a black and white movie. Things didn’t always end in song and a dance.
    I slid the tape into the editing suite. I should just do it . Do it and get it over with. Instead I picked up a pair of headphones and plugged them into the jack.
    Static at first, then the sound of voices. I recognized one of them—he’d be waving that cigar as he shouted. How had Archer managed to get his hands on this?
    “Do you know how much this is costing the company?” the voice blasted through my headphones. “The EPA is all over our ass about Pennsylvania!”
    “Yes sir,” a frightened voice said. “The oil rig has stopped production until we can meet environmental guidelines.”
    “ Stopped production? ” he roared. “Who gave you permission to do that?”
    “Well… that is, we assumed, until we could stop pollution of local water sources…” the frightened voice stammered.
    I heard something hit a wall. It sounded like a monitor . “We should have just stuck to our fucking Nigeria operations—we’ve had no problems dumping waste there for years.”
    A chair creaked.