Under the Lights

I glance back at my phone. Still no answer from Ally, but there’s a new text from Zander giving me a heads-up that paparazzi will be present at dinner. I smile and go back into my bathroom to add a little more makeup, and swap out my lip gloss for one that makes my teeth look whiter. It’s hard work looking this good, and it’s always nice to get fair warning there’ll be cameras on you. My BFF may have checked out completely, but I still have to be on at all times.

Chapter Three Josh

It’s your mother. Again.” Ally holds out the phone as if the fifteenth time will be the charm. It’s been a week since “Yvette” mentioned that dumbass reality show, which means a week of ignoring her calls. She’s getting desperate to shove me in front of the sleazyass producer she’s suckered into this stupid idea.

“Well, you can go ahead and ignore it. Again.” I’m sexting with a waitress from one of the clubs I went to last week, trying to get a new topless pic to use as my wallpaper, and I don’t have patience for this shit. “Did you confirm my flight to Miami?”

“Confirmed the flight, and that Ronen will be here in time for your pre-flight beauty ritual. I also confirmed your audition this afternoon, so please actually show up to this one. I know you don’t seem to care about booking anything for some reason, but you do realize your personal income flow is pretty lacking, right?”

“You remind me every fucking day,” I growl, but I can barely even hear it. The phone’s no longer ringing, but the echo of it — and my mother’s nagging voice — are bouncing around in my head like a fucking game of Ping-Pong.

“Do you need an Advil?”

“I’m fine. You can go.”

“Is this about your mother calling?”

I lift my head from my phone and glare at her. “My psycho-bitch mother is none of your concern.”

“It would help if you’d tell me why she’s suddenly calling you every hour.”

“Not much you can do unless you can get her a job so she can get over the idea of me doing a shitty reality show with her.”

Ally freezes. “You’re doing a reality show? Seriously, Josh?”

“Certainly not planning on it.” My phone beeps with another text, and I glance down hopefully, but it’s just the waitress being boring and trying to get me to come back and see her first. Fuck that.

“Good, because that’s a ridiculous move. I know you can land at least one of these jobs. If you start with reality TV, you’re gonna be done for life.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. And tell my mother, too. If you can’t do that, keep ignoring her calls.”

It looks like she wants to say more, but she doesn’t, and I don’t ask what she’s thinking. She’s not usually one to keep her opinions to herself; I’ll take the gift of her silence where I can get it.

“You can go home whenever,” I add, since she doesn’t seem to quite get that I don’t need her in my face anymore. What I do need is another drink or five, maybe a lap dance, but I’ve got a photo shoot tomorrow for Aspen, the designer jeans brand that keeps me in first-class tickets to Miami — and on major billboards all over the country — and I need to squeeze in a workout and a decent night’s sleep. Contrary to what I tell every blogger and reporter who asks, my cut body doesn’t perfect itself.

A few more clicks on the laptop she totes around, and then she closes it with a sigh. “Fine. But you need to show up to this audition today. And you might want to think about looking at places closer to LA, anyway. Once you are working more regularly, you’ll realize what a bitch it is doing this drive every day.”

“Subtle.”

“If you’re looking for subtlety, I think you hired the wrong assistant.” She slides the laptop into her bag and stands up. “Go over your lines. Kick some ass today. Land the part. Then you can let yourself get disowned.”

I shake my head and watch her leave before going down to the gym. One more hour of masochism seems just about right for this day.

* * *

The audition sucks. It’s obvious from the second casting sees me that they have zero expectations, and they’re right to. I can’t pretend I think the stupid, derivative shit I’ve spent the afternoon memorizing deserves any effort, so I don’t give it any. And then I leave.

I know the first thing I’m gonna see when I check my phone after sliding into the backseat of Ronen’s Escalade is a text from Ally asking how the audition went, and of course she proves me right. I don’t have the patience to deal with her now, and I know that early night’s sleep isn’t happening, either. I need to get out — blow off some steam with the guys and get a good drink and a warm body or three. It’s still early, though, so I text Wyatt instead and tell him to get TamTam — his favorite bong — ready because I’ll be there in twenty.