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“Well,” I answer with a dramatic flourish of my arms, “Apparently, now I’m fat. She needs to order me a bigger swimsuit.”
Cindy gives me a critical once-over and I try not to flinch. “She’s a jealous bitch. Your suit is fine.” She stares at me a little longer, then smiles. “Except for that bride-to-be glow, you look the same as you did before you left.”
I swear, some days, Cindy is the only reason I haven’t walked off the set and quit. “Thank you.”
Marilyn might have said if I get the part on the new show, I can still be on this one, but there’s no way I’ll sign on to take more of this crap for another season. I don’t want to pin all my hopes on the new show—who knows, it could end up being worse—but I’m really looking forward to the audition.
Cindy pulls me out of my musings by waving a pan of makeup at me. “It’s the nice thick, waterproof stuff. You have a shower scene.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I say under my breath.
“Mallory!” she fake gasps. “This is a family show!”
I chuckle as I drop into my seat and wait for her to perform her magic.
Eight hours later, I don’t think even Cindy has enough magic to make me stay on this set another second.
“Is this going to be a problem, Mallory?” Sam asks, scowling at me so hard I want to melt into the floor.
Obviously, the director wasn’t looking for any input from me about the scene. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?
“No, it’s fine.” Grown women ask each other to help them shower all the time for no reason whatsoever. Totally normal.
Pamela rolls her eyes but I’m not sure if it’s at me or the director. Either way, she’ll have the privilege of soaping me up in the shower when we shoot the scene later in the week.
Now that I’ve been properly chastised in front of everyone, we’re dismissed for the day.
“Total jerk-off material,” Pamela whispers when the director turns his incendiary gaze on one of the show’s many writers. “You know our biggest demographic is single males in the thirty-five to fifty-four years of age range, right?”
“That explains so much.” I slap my hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing.
She giggles and bumps my elbow. Except for running a few lines this morning, we haven’t spoken much. Certainly, not about anything personal. I’m not sure what to say. Given that she and Andrew just broke up, and the way it happened, I don’t want to rub her nose in my engagement.
“Congratulations, by the way.” She nods to my ring.
“Oh.” I smile down at my hand. “Thank you.”
“How’d he propose?”
Since she asked, I give her the details but try not to gush too much.
“Shucks, that’s sweet.” Her voice lacks the usual mocking and actually seems sincere. “When you planning on tyin’ the knot?”
Since I don’t want to explain that we’re saving the public wedding for when my father’s out of prison, I go with a non-committal, “When everything settles down.”
“Oh, sugar, there will never be a ‘right time.’ Best do it quick, so you’ll be entitled to those juicy publishing royalties when you catch him in bed with the maid or somethin’.”
And there it is.
I’m too tired to give her a lengthy speech about how Chaser and Andrew are nothing alike. “Thanks for the advice.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mallory
“Do I look like an innocent midwestern teenager?” I ask Chaser as I enter the living room.
He sets down his guitar and studies me. “Will you think I’m creepy if I say I totally would’ve tried to bang you in high school?” He adds an eyebrow wiggle that sets me off laughing.
“Maybe just a little.”
“Mallory,” he says more seriously. “You’re beautiful.”
“Beauty isn’t the point.”
He runs his gaze over me again. “Yes, I can see you playing a high school senior, no problem.”
“I probably haven’t worn these since I was a senior.” I run my hands over my yellow jeans. “You want to talk about being creepy, I drove by the high school last night just to see what kids are wearing these days.”
“Did you?” he chuckles.
“It was Marilyn’s suggestion. At least I have some character details. Half the time, I have no idea what the casting directors are looking for.” I bite my lip. “I still need to work on my Midwestern accent, though.”
“I doubt they’ll know the difference.”
“True. Marilyn just told me to talk “flat.” She seemed to assume the Midwest is one massive, uniform flatland of cornfields.”
He laughs even harder. “Sort of how everyone assumes if you’re from New York, you speak like a wise guy from Brooklyn?”
“Or tawk like you’re from Long Island,” I add in my best fast, hypernasal accent.
He shudders. “I’ve ridden through the Midwest and spent some time in a few states. Where’s your character supposed to be from?”
“Nebraska.”
“All right. From what I remember there’s no obvious pahk the cah kind of accent like Boston. It’s flat like she said. A more subtle merging of vowels in some words. Like cot and caught would sound the same. Stock and stalk. Dawn and Don.”
I softly repeat the examples to myself, getting a feel for what he’s describing.
“Honestly, though, if they’re Hollywood types who only spend time on either coast, they’ll never know the difference.” He holds his hands in the air. “That’s my totally unbiased, biker opinion.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Come here.” He holds his arms out and I happily wrap myself around him. He hugs me, slowly rocking us side to side. “You’re going to be great,” he assures me in a soothing rumble.
“Thank you,” I mumble against his shirt. “What are you working on today?”
He takes a long, deep breath before answering, so I can already guess what he’s going to say. “Andrew wants to get together and jam over at Vinnie’s. Alvin’s supposed to meet me there.”
“Good.”
“We’ll see. I’m sure he’s dying to pump me for information about Pamela.”
I open my mouth and he presses one finger against my lips. “Nope. The less I know, the better.”
“Well, she did warn me to get hitched quick so I can have a piece of all your publishing royalties when I catch you in bed with our maid.”
He rolls his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. He really breaks everything he touches, doesn’t he?”
“I have a feeling she was a little messed up before Andrew. Why else would any woman date him?”
“Good point.”
I poke him in the chest. “Aren’t we a perfectly smug couple?”
He leans down and rubs his nose against mine. “Smug as two bugs in luuuv,” he sings.
“Oh my God.” I slap my hand against his chest and snort with laughter.
When I can finally breathe again, he’s grinning at me. “I love making you laugh.”
I hug him tight again and he rubs his hand over my back. “Do you want me to drop you off?”
“No, I’m going straight to work after the audition. It’s at the studio. Everything is on the up and up.”
He releases me and grabs a notepad by the phone, jotting down a number. “That’s Vinnie’s house. Call me if you have any issues. If I’m not back by the time you get home, send a search party.”
“Very funny.”
My happy mood lasts all the way to the audition.
What am I doing here?
They specifically asked for me. I’m not showing up with a bunch of other random actresses vying for a part.
Once I’ve given myself a little pep-talk, I head inside.
The assistant to the casting director takes my headshot and resume. “We’re so happy you’re here, Mallory.”
“Thank you. I’m excited to learn more about the show.”
Settle down. Stop being a kiss-ass.
Thankfully, she doesn’t seem put off by my eagerness. She hands me a thick script and asks me to follow her, stopping in front of an unmarked white door. “We’ll give you some time to go over the script. Don’t worry about memorizing everything perfectly. Just get comfortable with the material.”
“Sure.”
She opens the door to a plain room with a table, a few chairs, and a couch against one wall. I curl up on the couch and dig into the script.
First day of school:
Brittany’s beat-up clunker tooling down the highway to school.
Brittany driving. Her brother Christopher in the passenger seat…
