He closed his mouth with an audible snap. I shoveled salad into my mouth and took another bread roll from the center of the table. If this date was going off the tracks, I needed to eat quickly. I didn’t have any food in my shithole apartment for a dinner tonight.
“Maybe if you got a decent agent, you’d get some parts,” Blaise said, a frown creasing his face. He didn’t look nearly as handsome when he frowned.
“I have an agent.”
“You have a washed-up old man who calls you when the casting directors can’t get anyone off the D-list to come to their auditions.”
“Fuck you,” I said. “Roger is great.” I wished I hadn’t told Blaise about my agent. Or the audition. Or anything. This date was a disaster from the beginning.
“Roger is a has-been. Everybody in Hollywood knows that.”
“He’s a great agent.”
He wasn’t a great agent. I knew that. But Roger had taken me in when I first arrived in California, and he’d given me advice and a place to stay while I got on my feet. I owed him. After this audition, though, I was beginning to think that maybe I should switch to another agent. I just didn’t know how to tell Roger. It would break his heart.
“Maybe you should go fuck him, then,” Blaise said.
“Maybe I will, since your dick doesn’t ever seem to be working.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The veins on his temples were throbbing.
“Are you?”
“So it’s my fault? Just because I don’t assume I’m getting laid? Just because I try to treat you like a lady? Or did you want me to fuck you on our first date like a classless whore?”
That word. I gripped the table, trying not to slap him.
“I can make my own decisions about whether or not to fuck you on the first date. Or the second. Or the third. Right now, I’m not sure you even have the proper equipment down there.”
“Fine! See if I ever try to take you to dinner again!” Blaise said, throwing his napkin on the table. The wine sommelier had come over with the next bottle of wine Blaise had ordered for us. Hearing our conversation, he started to turn away. I grabbed his coattails and he turned right back.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I was about to leave, but I’m sure Blaise would love to have the bottle to himself. Maybe you two could chat about the vintages, just the two of you.”
“Fuck you,” Blaise hissed. “You’re a shitty wanna-be actress with a wanna-be agent who can’t wait to whore herself out.”
“Keep buying expensive wines,” I said. “Maybe all the antioxidants will make your dick grow longer. Or maybe you’ll just drink your tears away.”
“Ah… ahem,” the sommelier said.
“Bye. I hope the two of you have a long and happy life together,” I said.
“You’re just as fake as the rest of Hollywood,” Blaise sputtered. His face was beet-red, and his hands clutched the tablecloth. I leaned over and plucked a dinner roll from the bread basket and tucked it into my purse. Breakfast for tomorrow.
“We’re all fake,” I said. “Me, I’m the only one who doesn’t pretend to be real.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sara
I was most of the way through the bottle of Jack Daniels when my phone rang. I squinted hard at the screen. It was my agent, Roger.
I didn’t really want to talk to him right then, but maybe it was for the best. That audition had been the last thing I had going for me in the past month. If he couldn’t find me any parts, maybe it was time to move onto another agent. As dumb as he was, maybe Blaise was right about that. I took a deep breath and answered the phone.
“Hey, Roger, what’s up?” I asked.
“Sara, my darling!” he said, with an overenthused joyfulness that I could tell was fake. His voice was whiskey-grizzled, and I wondered if he was drunk right now. “How did that audition go?”
“I didn’t get it,” I said. “I mean, the audition went well. I guess it just wasn’t my part. The dialogue was clunky, anyway. Listen, Roger—”
“Never mind that,” he said. “I have another part for you. Guaranteed.”
“Guaranteed?” I tried not to let the skepticism show in my voice. And I tried not to let the tiny flicker of hope in my heart grow. If there was one thing in this city that was poison, it was hopes and dreams.
“The studio contacted me directly,” he said. “Asked if I had a girl meeting a certain criteria. And you would fit the part perfectly!”
“What was the criteria?”
“They wanted the best Method actor I had,” he said. “You have to sink into this role completely. It’s an improv-type thing, they said, and you have to be willing to commit to the part for a full day. I thought to myself: who does Method acting like a champ? Sara! It has to be her!”