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Rogan’s eyes widened, then fixated on me with a new type of intensity. One of alarm rather than desire.
Like a bouncer manhandling a rowdy club-goer, Rogan grabbed a handful of fabric from the back of my dress and pushed me out into the suite. Every head in the room swiveled to look at me. Maurice was next to the bathroom door, his back pressed against the wall like he was trying to blend in like a chameleon.
Jonah Weiman stepped toward me and extended his hand. “Jonah Weiman. And you are…?”
I shook his hand and tried to think of something to say. I glanced at the door. It was less than twenty feet away. If we took off at a run, we could probably escape.
Rogan’s voice was deep and commanding. “What’s going on here?”
The partner with the Boston accent pointed at the real Amirah. “Oh, shit. She could be your stunt double.”
“My… My what?” the real Amirah asked with a confused chuckle.
Rogan’s eyes were locked onto me. I felt mesmerized. I couldn’t look away now that I was caught. I guess this was how deer felt right before they got hit by a car.
“She was lying,” said the blond guy, Asher. He adjusted his glasses and said, “She’s not Amirah.Sheis.”
Maurice jumped back from me and let out a dramatic gasp worthy of an Oscar nomination. “You’renotAmirah Pratt?”
Nobody bought it. He sighed and awkwardly looked at his feet.
Meanwhile, the guy with the Boston accent had casually slipped along the wall until he stood in front of the door. He was blocking the exit. The only other way out was to leap from the balcony seats onto the court.
Which, right about then, was more tempting than I’d like to admit.
Everyone was staring at me, so I said, “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really?” Rogan asked. He allowed a trickle of authority in his voice that reminded me of an Army officer dressing-down a private. “Because it looks like you snuck into our suite to get free food and drinks.”
I winced. “Okay, so it’sexactlywhat it looks like. But it wasn’t just about the food and drinks! We chose your suite because we saw Jonah Weiman coming out of here. We wanted to talk to him about representation. But when you thought I was someone else, I panicked and went along with it.”
Maurice took one big step to his right and nudged Jonah with his elbow. “You’d have to be a pretty good actor to pull that off. Right? I’m Maurice Whitman. Like the poet, but I’m an actor rather than a wordsmith. You probably recognize me from my headshots.”
“Kid, I have no idea who you are,” Jonah said bluntly.
Maurice’s shoulders sank a few inches.
Amirah looked around and laughed nervously. “Is this some sort of joke? I don’t think I get it, ha ha.”
“It’s not a joke,” Rogan said solemnly. “I need to call stadium security.”
The leathery woman with theenormousfake boobs snorted loudly. “Iknewshe wasn’t the real Amirah Pratt. I told you, didn’t I, baby? I’m good with faces. And look at her hair. Too many split ends, and it’s not framing her face very well…”
Everyone has a fight or flight response. Up until that moment,flighthad been winning for me. Flee out the front door. Jump from the balcony seats. Grab the tablecloth from the food table and use it as a parachute. Okay, that last one probably wouldn’t work. Impulses aren’t always logical.
But when this Bimbo Barbie woman insulted the way I looked? The needle swung all the way over tofight.
“Not everyone can afford to have their hair done once a week,” I snapped at her. “Some of us are barely getting by. I have to beg, borrow, or steal every opportunity. This is a tough town, and I will not apologize for doing whatever it takes to try to make it. And I happen to think I look pretty damn good, all things considering.”
The woman leaned back as I took a step toward her.
“And even if Iwasa mess, you’re the last person who should be judging the way someone looks.”
She scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you look like someone duct-taped a pair of volleyballs onto your chest. And one of the volleyballs has more air in it than the other one. So I willnotlet someone like you ridicule the way I look, or what I’ve done.”
I was vaguely aware of Rogan’s phone ringing. He answered it, said, “Let me call you back, Patty,” and then shoved it back in his pocket. His eyes never left me or the scene I was causing.
