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“The tide is turning,” he says, unaffected. “I have to ride the next wave before someone else does.”
“So, that’s it? After all these years…”
“Sorry.” He breathes into the phone. “But this isn’t working out anymore.”
I glance over at the girl next to me, who looks like she’s hanging onto every word. Shit, I wasn’t even thinking about her. She heard the entire conversation.
Vinnie is letting me go. Since there’s nothing more to say, I click the end call button. I slide off the bed, searching for my clothes scattered across the carpet.
“Hey,” the girl says from behind me.
I pick up my shirt and throw it on. “How did I get here?”
“You don’t remember?”
Her voice is soft and playful.
“Nope. Nada.”
“You were practically fucking me on the dance floor at Chrome.”
I slip into my jeans and check my pockets for my wallet and keys. You never know with crazy fans. I’ve had plenty of rough nights and one too many stalkers. The super fans have gone as far as breaking into my house to steal my boxers.
“Where am I?”
“Studio City. But you don’t have to go.”
“Did I drive here?”
She shakes her head. “No, you left your car at the club. We took an Uber to my apartment.”
“Fuck,” I groan.
She bites down on her bottom lip and pushes a few strands of hair behind her ears. “Stay. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“No, sorry. I have to go.”
Still naked, she crosses her arms beneath her breasts and scowls. She’s so damn tempting, but I have more important things to do—like find another agent. My career will be over if I can’t replace Vinnie soon.
Before I leave her apartment, I open the Uber app and schedule my ride. She lives fifteen minutes from my house in Beverly Hills.
Outside, I raise my hand to my forehead to block the sun from my eyes. My head and body are throbbing from the hangover fully setting in.
How much did I drink last night?
Maybe I am losing my edge. Vinnie has been trying to tell me for a while now that I need to get my act together.
A few minutes later, my driver double parks at the curb. I hop into the car, thankful to be away from the public eye. He drives toward my house. The local news plays through the speakers. I listen carefully to see if anyone has heard about my breakup with Vinnie yet.
A few minutes before we reach my house, my cell phone rings. This time, it’s my publicist, Danika Kane. She’s the best of the best and the reason I still have a career.
“Tell me something good,” I say.
“I wish I could,” she says in a severe tone. “I heard about Vinnie.”
“News travels fast in this city.”
“Yeah. But that’s not why I’m calling. Have you read Variety yet?”
My heart sinks into my stomach. “Ugh, no…”
“The advance reviews for Flashbang are… How do I say this?”
She pauses, and I finish for her, “Bad.”
“Worse than bad. They’re fucking terrible. If anyone pays to see this movie, it will be a miracle.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I challenge.
She laughs. “I’ll have my assistant send you a copy. It’s Fantastic Four bad. No wonder why Vinnie dropped you like a hot potato.”
“And what about you? You going to leave me, too?”
A long silence passes between us before she sighs into the phone. “No, I’ll stick it out with you. But you have to promise to get your shit together.”
“Fine,” I agree. “Whatever you want. Just help me fix this.”
“You need to take a long, hard look at your life, Nico. There’s a reason your life is falling apart. You’re a talented actor. You used to be one of the best, and that’s why I know you can get back to where you need to be. Something has to change. Figure out what’s holding you back so we can get back to business. There’s only so much I can do for you.”
“Yeah, okay,” I mutter. “So, what are we going to do about my agent?”
“You will find another one,” she says, stressing her words. “It’s not my job to find your representation. Call around. I’m sure a few of the agencies will take a meeting with you.”
“Couldn’t you do that for me? Set up a few meetings.”
“Nico,” she booms. “I’m not your secretary or your manager.”
“My manager quit months ago.”
Danika groans. “Find a new one. Pick up the phone. It wouldn’t kill you.”
Staring out the window, I sigh. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Sure,” she says in her singsong voice. “Let me know how you make out.”
I’ve never felt so deflated as the driver pulls up to the gate in front of the mansion. If I don’t find another job, I won’t be able to afford this place much longer.
I can’t be jobless and homeless. Been there, done that. There’s no way I’m going back to my old life.
