The CEO’s Quadruplets

“Oh no, it was Marion.”

Isabella could not help but laugh at such a name.

The drive itself took a while, but they talked about their new house and listened to the classic rock station to pass the time. About an hour later thanks to traffic, they made it to a quintessential Western town no bigger than a city block. Amory explained on the ride over that the place had been used to shoot a television show in the early nineties, and it was no rented out to studios like his. He spent some money refinishing different parts of the faux village, so Isabella did not recognize the set from the show she actually used to watch.

It was always a bit of a thrill to visit a movie set. The pace of it all energized Isabella, but it was on film sets where she saw her husband come alive. Even with one step on the dusty street, Amory Blake seemed like a different person. Isabella could see the creative artist inside of him come alive. The way he admired the world became almost technical, seeing how different shows would play out on camera as he gazed across the expanse busy with staff putting the finish touches on the scenes.

Isabella could see the young Morrison. He was the spitting image of his grandfather, but had red hair instead of the dark blonde waves his grandfather had been known for. He found his Hollywood lineage through his mother, so his actual name was Tucker Campbell. However, he was taking on Morrison as a stage name and homage to his family. Dressed and dusty with makeup, he was reading over the screenplay at the snack table as she and Amory waltzed up. He looked up and smiled out from underneath the shade of his tattered brown cowboy hat.

“Mr. Blake, what a pleasure to see you!” the boy said with a soft New England accent. “And who is the charming woman on your arm?”

“Tucker, this is my wife. Dr. Isabella Torres.”

He extended his hand to shake Isabella’s warmly, smiling at her with an earnest expression. Everything about him seemed good-natured and generally unaffected by the fame he already had by name alone.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tucker. My husband has been working on this project for years, and it’s so serendipitous that you were able to be part of this film.”

“Yes, ma’am, it’s an honor of mine. I have loved a lot of films done by Blake Studios. I hope I can do the role justice.”

“Oh, dear,” Bella grinned as she touched his shoulder. “I have no doubt that you’re a perfect fit.”

“Isn’t he?” Amory flattered the young star. “He’s been nothing short of dedicated to his work. I can already see that Blake Studios and Tucker Morrison are at the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

“I would say so!” Bella noted as she saw another actor walking toward looking for a bottle of water.

Dressed in frilly ivory lingerie of the period and a sheer white kimono robe, this young starlet wore a face of intense makeup and curlers in her platinum blonde hair. Her icy blue eyes flashed with recognition as she took a drink of her water, and smiled a bit too brightly at Amory.

“Oh, Mr. Blake! I had no clue you were coming today! And here I am in my underthings!” The actress laughed in a bird-like saccharine voice.

Amory chuckled in amusement, but Tucker just smiled politely as he bowed out to find a quieter spot away from his chatty co-star. Isabella could sense the young boy did not have much interest in spending more time with Starla than necessary.

“Starla St. Clair, meet my wife, Isabella. Starla is playing one of the love interests of Tucker. She’s our femme fatale character.”

She waved a white lace glove. “I would shake your hand, but I might have face powder on my hands. I hate to ruin your lovely look.”

Starla St. Clair was a familiar face. Somewhat of child star, she had been doing smaller parts on children’s television for the last few years. However, her bigger claim to fame was her flings with a variety of A-list men. She had photographed holding hands with the President of the United State’s son, a pop star, a fashion model, a television director, and a professional basketball player. In person, Isabella could see the appeal of the girl not even old enough to drink. Her curves and skin were in a word: perfect. Her hair was obviously from a bottle, but her eyes and cleavage were striking enough to trick the eye into forgetting everything else about her. Isabella could also see that she knew this as well.

The way she held her body, the tone of her voice, and even the sound of her laugh all gave the impression that her total existence was an act. Everything was too sweet and too exciting. She laughed at everything Amory said, but he still seemed unaware of the way she pushed her bre*sts together a little bit more. He didn’t notice the purpose in how Starla sipped her water just so, and batted her fake eyelashes at her husband.

Starla’s shallow gushing towards Amory put Isabella on edge. The flirtations were generally harmless as she watched them interact, but the gall of it made Isabella feel suddenly very territorial of her husband. Isabella could sink her nails into her doll-like face without even taking a step, but Bella was an adult. Starla was not much more than a child.

Isabella knew that many women had s*x appeal as their only tool to succeed in their sexist culture. It didn’t really work in the medical industry, but Hollywood was notorious for degrading women to such physical standards. The good-natured part of Isabella concluded that this girl just had grown accustomed to being successful by being a flirt and a bit of a floozy. She was bubbly and stupid, and Isabella did not need to take her actions so personally.