"Yes, I saw the news," Minnie responds cautiously on the phone, "And I'm sorry that he's an asshole, but what am I supposed to do about it?"

Jeffrey's voice is coaxing. He knows how much Minnie makes, and he's well aware that she has a waiting list for her services. "Look, Minnie. I wouldn't ask except that it's an emergency situation." Pausing a beat, he presses his advantage, "You owe me."

There's a gasp on the other end of the line, as Minnie assumed Jeffrey would never call in that marker. It was a long time ago, and she'd been young and new in her field. Now that she's successful and sought-after, she has forgotten how she got her start. Her voice turns steely, "Fine, Jeffrey. I'll do this one, but then we're even. Who's paying me?"

"For now? I am. But don't worry. That sad sack of excrement will pay me back later." The younger Azoff hangs up the phone to make preparations with the studio for her credentials.

Sighing, Minnie taps her phone against her chin. So much for her vacation. Looking at her half-packed suitcase for her planned trip to Scotland, she's relieved that she purchased refundable tickets. Calling the airline, she cancels her flight. Pouring herself a large glass of white wine, Minnie flips on Spotify to her Daily Mix, choosing playlist #5, the jazz greats. The melodies of Ella Fitzgerald flow through the surround sound speakers in her luxury high rise apartment in downtown Los Angeles.

Returning the items she'd already packed to her closet, she sways to the music as it switches to Michael Buble singing a duet with Meghan Trainor. "Someday maybe when we're old and gray, we could be in love once more." Minnie sings along with the lyrics, two-stepping around her apartment.

When the song ends, she settles in her favorite spot in her bedroom: the large armchair with seashell patterns on the multiple shades of brown fabric. Pulling her computer onto her legs clad in their gray leggings with her cozy wool socks completing the look, Minnie reluctantly begins her research for this job. It's going to be a late night, she thinks, contemplating whether to put on a pot of coffee now or whether she can hold out without the caffeine rush. Opening her search engine, she types in his name.

==========

It's early, and she's put on her full armor. The simple peach tailored dress with its short sleeves is paired with one of her favorite necklaces. Her blue striped flats adorn her feet, preparing her for a full day of hard work.

Approaching the trailer she's been directed to, she smoothes the hair pulled back at the crown of her head. It's nerves that force her hand to twist the curls hanging closest to her face. Shaking herself, she releases the corkscrew curl, raising her hand to knock on the door of his trailer.

Hearing a mumbled, "Come in," she pulls on the door handle, stepping back at the stale smell that wafts out to her. Nose wrinkling, she enters the space, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness as she hears a croaky voice bark, "Who the fuck are you?"

Clearing a space on the foldout table, Minnie sets down her handbag. Without hesitation or permission, she begins opening the side windows, allowing light and fresh air to enter the space. "I'm Olivia Wakefield, your new publicist. Get your ass out of bed and take a shower while I tidy up a bit."

It's actually Wilhelmina Olivia Wakefield, but "Wilhelmina" is too old-fashioned for business and "Minnie" too informal. So it's "Olivia" for the win.

"Fuck off," comes the quick reply.

"Nope. I'm getting paid to do a job, and I will do it." Stalking over to the bed, she pulls away the covers, oblivious to the fact that he's lying there naked. Scrambling now, he puts both of his hands out to cover his junk, while Minnie simply continues opening windows. "We need to get these sheets washed. They're disgusting. You have a house in LA, and from now on that is where you will sleep."

Realizing that he can't scare her off while he cowers on the bed, he stands up, planting his hands on his hips in an attempt to look intimidating (which is really hard when you're naked in front of a stranger).

"Look, bitch. You don't tell me where to sleep or what to do. I didn't hire a publicist. And anyway, you're fucking fired."

"Good thing you didn't hire a publicist. You probably would have hired someone who would let you continue your self-destructive bullshit. You can't fire me, so we can move past that right now. Get your ass in the shower. We've got work to do to repair the damage you've already done." Minnie's heart is pounding on the inside, but externally, she's cool as a cucumber. This isn't her first rodeo, and she's familiar with how this works.

Xavier stands with his mouth open, staring at her without moving.

"I mean it, Xavier. Either you get in that shower right now on your own, or I'll wrestle you into it myself. I know exactly where to grab to get your attention and make you do my bidding," and her gaze zeroes in on his twig and berries which seem to deflate further under her cold stare.

Blushing, Xavier steps backwards into the shower. Pointing a finger at her after his torso is behind the small door, he threatens her, "This ain't over, bitch." Although he slams the shower door as soon as he's inside, she hears the water running and breathes a sigh of relief.

Minnie 1, Xavier 0. First battle down.

By the time he climbs out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, Minnie has created a bundle of dirty clothes and linens on the bed, along with filling a trash bag with empty liquor and beer bottles. She holds out some clothing to him with one hand. Her eyes averted this time to give him back his dignity, she announces, "These are the cleanest I could find. After filming today, we'll hit your place and choose appropriate clothing for tomorrow."

She hears the rustle of clothing as he dresses himself. Moving to the kitchenette area, her back to him, Minnie starts making coffee. "Now, one of the first things we need to do is prepare a statement about your comments yesterday and get it out there. I've drafted several options for you to look over. Most of them are along the lines of how you weren't yourself yesterday. The filming has been particularly rough. You didn't know what you were saying. You respect people of all sexual identities, and you are appalled that the word came from your mouth."

When he speaks, she realizes he's right behind her. "I will do no such thing," he pronounces, "That asshole was in my way, and I was trying to get home."

Whirling around, Minnie pokes him repeatedly in the chest, "Listen, Xavier Alexander Tarrango," she rolls the r's in his last name like he usually does when speaking his last name, emphasizing his Puerto Rican heritage, "You may have gotten away with this bratty behavior in your tiny little television world on CBS 'must-see TV', but you're playing with the big boys now. And they aren't inclined to keep hiring someone who alienates a large segment of the movie-going population."

Stepping back, Xavier gapes at this tiny fireball in her classy clothing with her passionate words. "I'm talented!" he tosses back at her.

Minnie snorts, "You think talent is enough these days? Grow up! There are talented kids all over the country, and casting agents are more than willing to try someone new instead of putting up with your bullshit behavior."

Underneath his bravado and loud words, Minnie can see the flicker of something in his eyes. Fear? Yes. That's what it is, and she presses her advantage, "You also have to remember that now you've got a collection of people in this business who would be thrilled to see you fail. And they are going to fan the flames of this scandal to make that happen."

And there it is, Minnie thinks, the naked terror. He's a scared little boy at the thought he could lose it all.

Softening her tone, she puts her hand on his shoulder, "Look, Xavier. I know there's a lot of pressure on you to be this amazing actor and celebrity. I'm here to help you navigate that out in the public world."

Hearing the coffee maker spurt its final sounds, Minnie turns back to the counter, picking up a coffee cup she's just rinsed out and filling it with the bitter black brew. Handing it to Xavier, she gestures for him to sit at the table. At her kind motion and mellow attitude, the fight has gone out of him so he sits down obediently. She's under no illusion that he's decided to become docile, but she has a reprieve to make her point.

"Now, let's look over the possible statements. We can release them as written statements or we can put you on camera. I'm not sure you're ready for the camera on this stuff yet, though. You're a brilliant actor, but sincerity is hard to fake," she slides into the booth across from him, opening her bag to withdraw the different statements she'd crafted between 2 and 3 this morning before working out and taking a shower to be put together and at his trailer by 6 a.m. Thank goodness for makeup. This wasn't the first all-nighter she'd pulled to prepare for a client, but now that she's nearly 35, it is getting harder to do.

========

Right on time at 8:00 a.m., Meg enters the trailer to force Xavier out of bed. Stunned at the light filling the space, and the cleanliness in what had become a pigsty, Meg is bewildered. Her eyes narrow as she sees the woman at the table, dressed in her fancy clothes while Meg is wearing her usual uniform of blue jeans and a t-shirt.

"Excuse me?" she ventures in her gentle voice, "May I help you?"

Turning at the sound, Minnie stands, a smile on her face, "You must be Meg, Xavier's personal assistant. He's told me all about you." She holds out her hand, "I'm Olivia Wakefield, Xavier's new publicist."

Shaking her hand, Meg blinks rapidly, looking around the space. "Uh? Publicist?"

"Yes." Noticing Meg's gaze searching the space, Minnie continues speaking, "He's just stepped out for a minute to get breakfast. He'll be back."

"Oh," Meg stands awkwardly, her hands at her sides, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"Do you have a minute to chat about Xavier?" Minnie asks, signaling Meg to the table.

"Chat? About Xavier? Sure." The younger woman sits down, anxious that someone wants to know her thoughts on her favorite subject.

"How did you come to be working for him?"

"Oh. Well...." Meg nervously glances at the older, obviously more professional woman in front of her. Something in Minnie's gaze calms her, makes her feel safe. So she starts talking, spilling the story she's never shared with another living soul. "I've loved him since I first saw him on Family Ties. Sure we were both only 14, but he was so handsome. And on screen, he was more beautiful than words can convey. Living here in LA, I meet a bunch of actors. My dad, after all, is in the industry," she shrugs her shoulders at these words, and Minnie isn't surprised. It seems most everyone in LA knows someone who's in the film industry.

"And, uh..." Here the younger woman stalls, suddenly unsure how much to tell this stranger, "I got the job when they advertised for personal assistants for the cast. Xavier threw out the first seventy-eight applicants. I was number seventy-nine." She sits up taller, "And if he thinks he can get rid of me by being a jerk, he's wrong. I know his secret."

Intrigued, Minnie leans forward on her arms, "Secret?" Any skeletons needed to come out now before she starts work beyond releasing the statement they'd agreed upon. She can't protect him from the press if she doesn't know all of his hidden depths.

Shyly, Meg looks around, as though making sure no one can overhear her. She, too, leans forward across the table, "Yeah." Lowering her voice to just below a whisper, Meg reveals, "He's a sweetheart underneath his asshole demeanor."

Taken aback, Minnie leans back in her seat, "Well, now. You don't say? And that's why you keep working for him?"

Meg nods, "Yes. That plus the fact that I really need the job if I'm going to work my way up the ladder. Titus and I --" Abruptly, she breaks off her sentence as she hears heavy footsteps on the steps outside and the door opening. Jumping up, she smooths her shirt over her flat belly, nervously licking her lips.

Xavier stalks in, slamming the door behind him, "Fucking Nazis at the donut shop wouldn't take my credit card. Had to go all the way to the ATM to get cash. Seriously? What the fuck --" His voice trails off as he spots Meg standing there, and the fire in his eyes calms. Minnie notices, filing the information away for later examination.

"Hi, Meg. Uh. Are you early?" He puts the bag of donuts on the table, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Nope. Right on time," she says, examining him from head to toe, drinking him in as if she had been slaving away in the desert for 40 years without another human in the vicinity. "And you clearly didn't need me to wake you this morning."

Shuffling his feet, he glances downwards, "Not today. And she -" he throws a resentful look at Minnie "- says I have to stay at my own place from now on."

"Oh," Meg's eyes are round, "But that means...."

Minnie interjects, "It means you'll need to wake him up at his own home from now on."

Meg's eyes widen and fly to meet Xavier's gaze. Swallowing, he nods. "Yes. Of course you will. I'll give you my house key. You can make a copy today."

Quite pleased with herself, Minnie decides it's time to get to work. "Okay, Meg. You need to take these items to the cleaners," pointing to the dirty laundry, "and these need to go in the dumpster. But not a dumpster on the lot. And check to be sure there's nothing in the bag that could identify Xavier." She's businesslike once more, and the other two stand back, impressed with her take-charge attitude.

"Xavier, I have your call sheet right here," as she pulls a printed page from her bag, "and you have to be at makeup in about 20 minutes. Meg, you should probably get started on that laundry," Minnie says pointedly.

Meg grabs the bundle of laundry and quickly leaves, looking at Xavier one last time before she exits the trailer.

"Now. You." Minnie turns to Xavier. "I'm releasing the statement to the press right now," pushing a button on her phone, "And you will pretend to be contrite all day today! You will not say anything to anyone that might contradict the statement we've agreed to. I don't expect you to be a saint today. But I do expect you to keep your mouth shut when you're not on camera."

Stricken, Xavier stuffs his hands in his pockets. "You're not going to be out there with me?" Minnie can't tell if he's disappointed or relieved.

"No. It's best if no one knows you have a publicist at this point. Not anyone on set anyway. Let them think your transformation is all on you," she's learned a thing or two in her time, and one of her most important lessons has been to stay in the background. Put the artist out front.

"What transformation?" he snarls.

"The one that's coming," she snaps back. "Now get over to makeup. And BE NICE!"

He clicks his heels together and salutes her, "Ma'am. Yes, ma'am!" His smirk belies his words, and he saunters out the door.

Minnie rolls her eyes. Typical first day with a new client. They'll get on the same page soon enough. She has faith. And a proven method.