“Did that surprise you?”

I looked up from where I sat in the waiting area to see Sam watching me, her bright red lips stretched into a Cheshire’s grin. She leaned against the reception desk and dragged her pointer finger in lazy circles around its glass surface.

“Which part?” I asked, still reeling from having listened to her argument with Kelly moments before.

Sam chuckled as she balanced on one mile-high stiletto, raising her left foot slightly off the ground and rotating it until it cracked. “I think it went well,” she said, nodding towards the closed door of the casting room.

“Yeah. Hey, thanks again for helping me out. Sorry I didn’t realize that you and Mr. O’Brien are, uh...”

“Married?” Sam laughed and clapped her hands together with amusement. “Don’t be embarrassed, I’m glad you didn’t. And, please, call him Kelly. When people are as polite as you, it tends to go to his head.”

I grimaced, wondering how I could’ve been stupid enough to forget about brushing up on Kelly’s bio before coming in. It was a basic rule of industry networking to know enough about a person to hold a basic conversation and I’d definitely blown that. Still, it could’ve been worse; I had a suspicion that screwing up in front of Sam instead of Kelly made me the luckiest idiot of all time.

“It’s pretty cool you guys work together,” I said while running my hand along the fabric of my shirt in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. Each time I got rid of one, another took its place until I finally gave up.

“We usually don’t,” Sam said and her smile faltered until it had been replaced by a deep frown. “Both of Kelly’s assistants quit after he refused to give them Christmas Eve off. I told him it was stupid but he insisted, said that if he was going in to review demo reels, they should be in the office, too. Of course, now they’re gone and I’m here so I’m sure you can guess how that went over.”

“I see,” I said, unsure of what response she was looking for. “That must have been frustrating for Kelly.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sam replied with a sigh and a shake of her head. “The man’s a teddy bear, he just isn’t the best with people.”

I stared at Sam for a moment before getting to my feet and looking down at her tiny frame with uncertainty. By all accounts including mine, Kelly seemed more like a full-grown grizzly than a stuffed toy—a very large, very hungry grizzly, ready to rip off the heads of any and all woodland critters that crossed his path. I just hoped that I’d be able to stay off Kelly’s dinner menu until Michael took over.

“Well, anyway, there’s no point in you waiting around here unless you want to,” Sam said, switching the topic and sparing me the task of playing up my sympathy for her husband. “There’s a café on the fourth floor if you want to run and grab a coffee. I’m sure Kelly’s going to take his time with Sophie’s reading so you probably have another twenty or thirty minutes.”

“I think I will. Do you want anything?”

Sam smiled again, her face softening as the lines around her eyes crinkled. “No thanks, but if you want a job as Kelly’s assistant, I’ll personally vouch for you.”

I laughed, briefly wondering if she was serious before forcing the idea from my mind. Michael’s tantrums may have been annoying, but at least I knew working for him wouldn’t end in bodily harm. Kelly, on the other hand, gave off the distinct impression that he wanted to snap somebody in half. “I’ll be right back.”

“Think about it while you’re gone. You could have this desk all to yourself,” Sam said, motioning to the counter with the flare of a game show host.

I hummed as I strolled down the hallway to the elevator, though genuine relief didn’t settle over me until I stood in the café with a cup of piping hot coffee in my hand. I took a long swallow of the bitter liquid and let it burn away the fatigue that had been clouding my thoughts since the night before. The acidic brew sent my stomach into an uproar of displeasure but I ignored its complaints, focusing instead on a pulse of energy that was making its way through my body. I knew the feeling wouldn’t last, that the caffeine would wear off in an hour and I’d be even more drained than I was now, but at the moment, it helped.

Scanning the room for a seat, it soon became apparent that there weren’t any to be found. Interns and assistants packed the cafeteria, crowded in tight packs around the rows of circular tables. Some were scarfing down dry turkey sandwiches and checking their watches after each bite, while others seemed relaxed, sipping at bottled water and laughing with their coworkers. I looked over at a particularly cheerful group as it erupted into a chorus of laughter and guessed that its members were working for one of the studio’s production teams.

It was well known that behind-the-scenes stress in the television circuit came in cycles, with writers, actors, and production staff being swamped at different times for unrelated reasons. The studio had announced that it would end the year with only two shows actively filming and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that meant the production crowd was enjoying its downtime while it lasted. A pang of envy hit me when I saw a guy around my age get up from the table that he’d been sitting at, his employee badge clipped prominently to his front pocket. He was short, fat, and already going grey around his temples, but I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be him—to be here, to be making my way up the studio ladder.

Annoyed by my jealousy, I turned away when the man met my gaze and walked briskly towards the elevator, not caring as I bumped against occupied seats on my way. I jammed the call button repeatedly and then pulled out my phone, knowing it was time to give Michael an update. Sam was right; things had gone well. Not perfectly or even great by Michael’s standards but I knew the fact that Sophie had managed to go into her audition would trump anything else he might want to complain about.

I scrolled through my contacts until I reached Michael’s name and then frowned. No service. I lifted my cell above my head, wondering what had happened between the time I called Sophie and now, and waved it in small circles—nothing. Each time I picked up a bar, it was gone again before I could lower the speaker to my mouth.

The elevator doors slid open as my phone’s screen flashed with a “No Service” warning and I slipped into the cabin, noting the button for the ground floor had been pressed before filling into a spot next to a wide-eyed studio page. The elevator was silent while it descended, with each occupant staring off into space as if the people around him or her didn’t exist. The page was the notable exception, though the hyper-focused attention she was paying my face quickly went from being flattering to creepy when I realized that she wasn’t blinking.

Though most of the bodies in the elevator had emptied onto the third floor, I was the first person to bolt when the doors opened to the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder when I stepped out into the courtyard where I’d dropped Sophie off, checking to make sure the bug-eyed girl was gone. She was, of course, and I chided myself for reacting to her like a horror movie villain before dialing Michael’s direct line.

“Parker,” he said, picking up after one ring. “Where are you?”

“Still at Global Studios,” I said, leaning against a massive stone planter. A palm tree grew out of the pot and I looked up to see a squirrel shimmying the length of its trunk. The rodent glanced down and met my stare, freezing for a second before continuing its climb with renewed gusto.

“Still? What, did Kelly decide to start shooting the film today or something? You were supposed to be back in the office right after lunch.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I said, reaching up to brush my hair off my forehead. “There were some… issues, I guess, and Sophie didn’t go in until noon.”

“Issues?”

“Uh, yeah, Kelly was kind of pissed about her being late but I talked to his wife and she worked it out for us.”

“Who's his wife? You were supposed to call me if there were any problems.”

I sighed, relieved that Michael sounded more confused than angry, and then launched into explaining a heavily edited version of events. When I was finished, silence met me on the other end of the line and I added, “But like I said, don’t worry, she’s in with him right now so it’s all good.”

“What are you doing after work?” Michael asked, catching me off guard.

“Probably just going home, I’m pretty beat.”

“Not too tired for a round at Brew Co., are you? I’ll buy.”

“I don’t know, I mean, another night would probably be better--”

“Seriously? Did you get too used to your mom tucking you in by eight? Sack up, it’ll be fun. I’ll get a couple guys from the office to come out, too.”

“Why?”

“To celebrate your first real foray into the world of entertainment negotiation.” Michael laughed. “Since when do we need a reason to get drinks?”

I felt like an ass for constantly questioning Michael’s motives, I really did. Still, even the promise of free craft beer wasn’t enough to shake me of the notion that the only thing less enjoyable than attending this happy hour would be getting a cavity filled, laughing gas not included.

“Parker?”

“Hey, sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m way too out of it but maybe next week.”

“Oh,” Michael said, sounding disappointed. “Yeah, sure, if you're really not up to it, that’s fine. Listen, I’ve got a meeting to get to but good job getting things done today. Talk to Penny if you get in before I’m back, I have a project for you.”

“Will do.”

“Great, one last thing.” Michael hesitated and it struck me as unusual that it took him longer than a second to figure out what he wanted to say. “I feel like an idiot for even bringing this up but just so we’re clear, the reason why I’ve been so hard on you is because I would’ve wanted a friend to do that for me when I was starting out. I know it sucks but all I want is to make sure you can handle situations like today by the time you leave this internship.”

“Yeah, it’s cool. I get it. Thanks, man.”

“Solid,” Michael said, taking a deep breath before switching back to his professional demeanor. “I have to go. Don’t forget to stop by Penny’s office.”

“I won’t.”

After I hung up, I closed my eyes and tilted my face upwards, letting the sunlight dance over my cheeks. Los Angeles was different from home, that was undeniable, but the city certainly had its own set of perks. I counted the seconds that I stayed standing like that until I finally accepted it was time to gather up Sophie and get back to my normal grind. I grudgingly opened my eyes and then flinched, startled to realize that I was being stared at by a stranger for the second time that afternoon.

My elbow grazed the rough surface of the planter that I’d been leaning against and I realized the person looking at me wasn't a stranger after all. Tall, with a slight beer belly forming, he looked like almost every other middle-aged man in L.A. There was nothing special about him, nothing that stood out. And yet, there was also no doubt in my mind that it was the same guy that I’d seen twice before. It was the man from the day I’d met Sophie, the photographer I’d run into in a vomit-filled alley.

White Hat.

I noted that he wasn’t wearing the baseball cap today, instead showing off a bald spot and a patch of thinning hair. I frowned when his face broke into smile, his yellow teeth bared like a set of rotting daggers. There was something about him that set me on edge, almost as if seeing him should’ve cued ominous music from a bad slasher flick’s score. I broke his gaze long enough to glance at the windows on the tenth floor, willing Sophie to stay inside.

“Got a lighter?” the man asked, pulling a box of cigarettes from his back pocket and tapping one out onto this palm.

I shook my head. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

“That’s okay,” he said and I watched him slide a matchbox from the messenger’s bag he wore slung across his front. “I keep thinking I should switch to those electronic things but…”

The match lit on his first attempt and he lifted it to the end of his cigarette. The tightly packed tobacco began to burn and he dropped the used match onto the ground, snuffing out the smoldering head with a few taps of his shoe. The man inhaled before blowing out an inhuman amount of smoke and tucking the booklet of matches into the front pocket of his bag. As he raised the flap of the old, leather carrier, the sun glinted against something metal that he’d tucked inside. He placed a protective hand over it, stroking its charcoal casing.

“You work here?” he asked, eyeing me with a lazy interest.

“No,” I said, setting my jaw and widening my stance in case he decided to strike. “Do you?”

“No,” he said and took another long drag on his cigarette. The ash at the tip burned in a continuous line and the man appeared to enjoy watching the paper char. “I've got to admit, for an industry worker, you're pretty hard to track down.”

“What do you mean?”

White Hat lifted out the camera that he'd been fondling and slipped its neck strap over his head. With nimble fingers, he twisted a wide-angle lens onto the mount and removed the protective cap, all while studying my expression. “Well, for starters, I figured someone your age would be much easier to find online.”

“I like my privacy,” I said as my hands balled into fists. White Hat raised an eyebrow, taking in the gesture before letting the corner of his mouth raise in a smile.

White Hat began scrolling through the photos on the camera's preview screen. “So do I,” he said, nodding as he examined one image in particular.

The irony of his comment forced me to stifle a laugh. As he clicked between images, intrigue got the best of me and I craned my neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse. Anticipating my move, White Hat lowered the camera to block my view. “Just checking some shots from this morning.”

“Alright, well, not to be rude,” I said, scowling. “But I need to get going.”

“Sure,” White Hat said, taking a series of short drags on his cigarette before letting the stick of ash drift to the floor. “Hey, before you go, how’s Sophie doing?”

I stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

"You may not know this," White Hat said, "but Sophie Winters and I go way back. Had a falling out when she socked me in the face last year but that’s a hazard of the trade, I guess.” The man rubbed his jaw with a venomous look in his eyes and a broad grin on his face. “I told her attorney that I’d do her a favor and drop the charges but she still won’t talk to me, can you believe it?”

“No,” I said, stretching the word so there could be no question that I was being sarcastic. “What is she thinking?”

“Who knows?” White Hat chuckled. “Then again, that’s what I was hoping you could help me with.”  

“What?” I demanded, trying to ignore the ache in my fingers as they begged for me to relax my hands.

“Truth be told, things have been kind of slow the past few months, for Sophie and, well, for me. Not a lot of news with half these people knocked up or locked up and I’m getting bored. More importantly, so are the folks who buy my work, you know what I mean? I was thinking that maybe we could help each other out.”

“Yeah, I would, but I'm getting the feeling that I shouldn't even be talking to you."

“Really? I won't tell anyone if you don't.” White Hat giggled, a high-pitched, mirthless squeal that left spittle on the sides of his mouth. “Listen, do you know what this town is built on?”

"Concrete and bedrock."

“Contacts,” White Hat corrected, adjusting his slight comb over so that it fell more naturally across his scalp. “Contacts, contacts, contacts. Good contacts, preferably, but ones with access to what you want will do, too.”

“Which type are you?”

“Me?” White Hat’s face lit up with amusement. “A unique blend of both.”

“I still don’t understand why you're talking to me.”

“I need a connection to Sophie.” I stared at him as he continued. “The people that I used to count on have fallen by the wayside, which is a shame but it's okay because I think you could be my best insider yet.”

“Why do you think I can help you?"

"Call it a hunch."

"And what do I have to do?” I asked, cautious and curious at the same time.

“Nothing major,” White Hat explained. “A tip here, a phone call there, that’s all I ask. Just a five minute head start between me and the rest of the vermin.”

“That sounds like a great deal for you but I don't see what I'd be getting out of this arrangement." 

The man responded by pulling out his wallet and handing me a business card, though not before taking the time to flash the pair of Franklins that he was carrying with him. “A cut,” White Hat said as I studied the name and title printed on the card he’d given me--Marc Corona, celebrity photojournalist. “Like I said, things have been slow so the going rate is down but I’m thinking eighteen percent for shots under a thousand and twenty for any cover photos that fetch at least two grand.”

“Cash?”

“Or direct deposit, I’m a forward thinking man.”

I nodded, mulling over his proposition before placing White Hat’s card in my hand and crumpling it into a jagged ball. “Go to hell,” I snapped, tossing the trash onto the ground beside his feet.

“It’s okay, we can always negotiate the numbers if we need to.”

“No, I mean it,” I said, taking a step forward and pointing a finger at his chest. “There are a hundred celebrities in this city, why can’t you bother some of them instead?”

“Because Sophie’s special,” White Hat said with a shrug. “The rise and fall of Hollywood’s teen queen, America can’t get enough.”

“She’s not a paycheck.”

“But her picture sure is.”

We stared at each other for a long beat, me with disgust and White Hat—Marc—with expectant patience. After what felt like a never-ending stalemate, a steel-toned Hummer pulled up and Marc handed me another card.

“I don’t want this,” I said. I tried to give it back to him but he shook his head.

“Contacts, remember?” Marc lifted his camera’s viewfinder to his eye and snapped a photo of the SUV as it idled. The bulb’s flash dimmed the sun and I lifted my hand to shield my face. “Time to get to work. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again, Parker, and what’s the harm in us being friends?”

“How do you know my name?” I demanded, a new wave of discomfort and anger surging through me. "How did you know any of this?"

“Independent research. Journalists are getting lazier by the minute but that’s no reason for them to leave potential leads unidentified in stories.”

I gaped at him, wanting to ask how he’d put it together but terrified to find out the answer. Marc fished his dirty, white baseball cap from his bag and set it on his head before jogging up to the arriving car. From the shadows surrounding the studio, dozens of other paparazzi emerged and each man began shouting questions and firing shots of their latest victim’s face. A security guard ran out from the lobby, speaking into a walkie-talkie as he approached, and I watched two bodyguards take their spots by the target’s side, waving their arms to disperse the vultures. The photographers didn’t care. Instead they seemed to multiply, with some retreating only to swap out their lenses and attack from a distance.

I never figured out whom they were mobbing but by the time I met up with Sophie and led her back to my car, the courtyard was silent. The paparazzi, the Hummer, and even White Hat were gone, though I stayed close to Sophie and scanned the surroundings with a wary eye. The business card in my pocket felt like a ten-pound weight and every time I opened my mouth, I wanted to ask Sophie what she knew about Marc Corona. I wanted to ask, but one look at her excited face told me to wait.

As we drove, Sophie yammered for miles without stopping to breathe, telling me that today she felt confident enough to break her rule against talking about auditions. It was nice to listen while she spoke earnestly about everything from how perfect the script was to how nice Kelly turned out to be. At the same time, I sat staring ahead, hoping my face didn’t betray the worry I felt. After reaching her house and unloading her bags, Sophie threw her arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug that ordinarily would've left me soaring. Instead, I held her tightly, happy to breathe in the citrus tang of her shampoo, though not without a nagging fear in the back of my mind that someone was watching.   

That someone had always been watching.

It wasn't until Sophie stepped out of my embrace with a bemused twinkle in her eye that I realized just how much that scared me.

---------------------------

A/N: For those who thought White Hat made his last appearance in that alleyway way back when... well, that was silly. :P I hope that you enjoyed this update and stick around for the chapters to come, I promise they'll be exciting. Again, the support that I've been receiving is crazy amazing and I'm so grateful to everyone who reads, votes, comments, or even thinks about this story. If you find any typos, please let me know!

Dedicated to @KaityElisa for being one of the first users I befriended on this site, as well as a great writer and someone who I've found can always boost my spirits with her kind words. :)