Day two - it brought more of the same. The paramount pitch, I need a credit card on his account so I had to order that, and the one line emails were flying in from Mr X. Book tickets for this, email the costumer designer from that, call this guy at CAA and give them my apologies that I can't make the screening, set up a meeting in early November with this cinematographer, set up a meeting with that guy at CAA and will my blackberry work in Europe? It's exciting. Really exciting. I'm in LA. I'm living the dream. This is why I'd moved over...All this and I'd STILL not met him. BUT I knew his social security number, date of birth, daughter's birthday and all the ins and outs of his relationships. I mean everything. These are things I needed to know. I'm in charge of his schedule, his life... everything.
I headed off to get my nails done. They looked like shit. No one has bad nails here. No one. I'm there being buffed when I see this woman having hers done. I know her. I know I do. Fuck me if it isn't Dawn Porter, who I met at one of Liz's birthdays two years ago. She lives here now. We exchanged numbers as she lives round the corner from me. Small world.
3pm. I'm off to his production office to meet one of his producers. Three hours (and one parking ticket later) I'm more filled in. Knackered. But more filled in.
6pm. I've got fifteen minutes to meet Tamara and fly up to the Arclight to see a screening of Mr X's - we're due to meet. I'm sort of excited but I find it weird. Ms V had put the fear of god into me. Ms J, who worked for his brother, had reassured me. But I realised. This is real life. I'm a walking Entourage episode. I really am.
At the cinema, and Tam's there with Gina and friends.
No tickets for Tam and co though. God knows where they were. Warners were meant to leave them for them and we had five minutes... I came into my own. I got my tickets and demanded to see the event co-ordinator of the screening. "Hi. I'm Mr X's PA. I've got five people from Warner's who need walking through. Their tickets aren't there and the event's due to start. I need them in now." and then did the obligatory ‘help me help me’ look. It worked. I felt like a rockstar as we all walked through. I really did.
The film's long. And then there was a Q&A. I'm meeting my boss while he's doing a Q&A. Weird. I've been working for him for two days and I've still not met him. We had to wait. And wait. And wait.
Ms V was there. I felt slightly awkward. So I waited outside the cinema with the groupies and then there he was. Eventually I met him. My boss.
“Hi”… “I recognise that voice.” As well he bloody should as we’d been emailing and talking for a while now… So. I took out my notepad. I’m on my game. Lots of nodding, eye contact and I’m going to Zuma tomorrow to meet him properly. There are people listening. He’s cornered. I introduce myself to some people there. They’re snotty. Then I say I’m Mr X’s PA. Then they’re friendly. Wankers. There’s only so much of that I can take.
We drive back to Tam’s office, where we’d left the car. Tam’s boss and the woman who casts all of Mr X’s films, is still in the office. We chat. Her dog is mental, but lovely, racing around while we dissect life.
Tired. I go home. I've finally met Mr X and we start emailing at midnight through to 2am sorting out more stuff before our meeting tomorrow.
SATURDAY - off to Mr X's house
He lives in butt. fuck. nowhere. But next to Pierce Brosnan and five mins walk from Zuma Beach. But first? It's off to Beverley Hills, Rodeo Drive as it happens, to pick up his watch. I felt like a rockstar again, swinging my posh bag, filled with a watch that costs more than most of my possession in the US rolled together. Oh well.
I got lost on the way. It was SO far. SO far. I thought it couldn't be that far. It was. I drove fast. Very fast. But... I don't want to make this trip on a regular basis.
I got to the home. It has a pool. It's nice. But it's a long way from home.
It's hard to take someone seriously when their daughter has tied him up and put a purple tiara on his head. I get the lowdown on team Mr X. It's a lot to take in. Everyone seems very important. And I've not heard of any of them. But they're loyal. They love him. In fact, everyone I meet loves him. He's a creative genius - what's not to love?
I'm given more to do - sort out the blue tooth in his BMW, more gardening questions, the bin's gone walkabout. The housekeeper's not picking up the phone and I don't know where anything is. Mr X's gone off to High School Musical with his daughter (to collect tickets I really hope I bought for him!). Oh yes and download a book onto his i-pod. Now that took nearly an hour alone.
It's a long drive back. Long. And I've got two parties tonight. At least.
I met up with a friend. He took me to the gayest party I've ever been to. 40 men. And me. I'd made a vow in LA. No. More. Poufs. And what happens? I'm thrown into a party with gays. It had valet parking at the house. Posh. And the staff working it are from 'Adonis' catering. So I'm watching old gayers slavering over the food and the help. There was possibly one other woman but she looked so skinny she doesn't really count. She looked ill. They all produced or wrote gay films. Apart from one guy, who was editor of a magazine. Him I liked. He had a good tasche. But being around all the gays was slightly - what's the fucking point in this? So we went to my friend Nico's party. Slightly cunt soup. Slightly fun. The women here need to eat. One English skinny Lady was, incidentally, snotty unfriendly bag. Didn't like her at all. Why my friend bothered to give her a compliment I don't know. She's unpleasant. Horribly unpleasant. The party was Hollywood esque and just how these people could walk away afterwards and drive their cars? No idea. The booze consumption was immense.
I drove home through the mist and passed out into bed.
SUNDAY - no rest for the wicked.
Went to the beach with Eileen but ended up on the blackberry sorting stuff out. Silly stuff. Stuff not even worth mentioning anymore because you get the idea. I hope. It's a mixture of the mundane and the self important.
Saw the Changeling with Tam and started actually looking at my blackberry's contacts.
I have Johnny Depp's email. Whoop whoop! I’m excited.
There's an upside to everything I guess.
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