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“Jerk is putting it lightly, and asshole is a compliment.” I toss another dress on the floor with the growing pile of discarded outfits. “What Edward Spencer is, is an arrogant, egotistical, self-serving-”
“Super dreamy… You can’t forget dreamy.”
I turn around to find Alex batting her lashes at me. She and Zoey are sprawled on my bed, heads resting in their hands as they offer no help at all while I try to find something to wear to this stupid Hollywood mixer.
“And billionaire,” Zoey adds. “We can’t forget that part either.”
They descend in a fit of laughter, probably spurred on by the unimpressed look on my face more than anything.
“Good, go ahead. I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Another dress makes it onto the floor and I try to ignore the fact that my ‘no’ pile is beginning to resemble a ‘no’ mountain.
For a struggling actor working three jobs just to keep my head above water, I’ve accumulated a lot of clothes. And yet, the world to choose from and not a thing to wear…
“Lighten up, Cara,” Alex says in her dry Louisiana drawl. “Do you know how many women would kill to be in Edward Spencer lll’s crosshairs?”
I lock her with a deadpan stare. It’s times like this when she gives away her age. Bright-eyed and naive at a mere twenty years old, she sees no wrong in the world and believes all her dreams are going to come true. I don’t have the heart to break it to her, but it doesn’t matter how good she gets with that acoustic guitar she wields like a broken-hearted weapon… Record deals these days belong to nepo babies. Bottom line. She’ll be lucky to retire playing her intimate little gigs in hole-in-the-wall bars.
Unless…
My hand freezes over the blue silk dress I wore to the opening of one of our plays a couple of years ago. Because up until a week ago I was sure that I’d fade away into anonymity with nothing to my credit except a string of Chinese make-up ads and that one direct-to-DVD slasher flick I did when I first got to LA. Girl number two in the diner. My face was on screen for all of three seconds, and I’ve never felt happier in my life.
I unhook the dress from the rack and hold it up against me, turning back to face them. As much as I loathe him, Edward has given me the shot of a lifetime. And as much as Aliens Out West sucks all kinds of balls, it’s the kind of movie that I can use to launch me into bigger and better projects.
So maybe it isn’t all that bad to keep believing that dreams come true.
“She’s the one.” Zoey’s face lights up and Alex proceeds with slow, dramatic applause.
“And with those strappy silver pumps,” Alex says, giving a chef’s kiss. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
She and Zoey share a look. They’ve obviously heard the full breakdown of my audition, and although at the time they were really sympathetic about it, I knew the backlash would come. The way they’re biting back their laughter tells me that time is now.
“Correction: thealienbelle of the ball,” Zoey snorts with laughter, Alex following close behind.
“You guys are the worst.” I take down my hair and consider my reflection in the full-length mirror on the inside of my closet door.
Turning this way and that, I decide the search is over. Blue is my color, after all. No sense in messing with what works. I bite my bottom lip as another thought sneaks into my mind, and I quickly turn my back on my roommates who can both read me like an open book.
It’s a thought about Edward, and how he’d probably like what I’ve picked out. The way it makes my eyes pop. And that I’ve decided to wear my hair down for a change.
Ugh, I’m pathetic. I just gave Zoey and Alex an unending list of what’s wrong with him, and yet I can’t help myself. There’s something about him that draws me in. Some kind of magnetism that I haven’t felt in anyone else.
And that kiss… thank God he thought it was all an act, because I’m sure he’ll have a field day if he knows how much of me was in it.
* * *
My acting skillscome in handy as I mill around Miranda’s swanky mansion in the hills, looking like I totally belong here. Like this is how all my Friday nights go, in fact–rubbing elbows with Hollywood’s elite, seeming as though I’ve crawled from the pages of Vogue. Not my description, but the words Alex used when she finished my make-up and Zoey gave my hair a final spritz of holding spray.
“Champagne?” A serving tray filled with crystal flute glasses gets shoved in my face.
I grab one and I’m still muttering my thanks when the waiter moves on to his next unsuspecting victim. The bubbles go down like little pin pricks of courage, warming me up from the inside out. A few more rounds and I’ll be relaxed enough to join in the fun.
“You know the point of tonight is to talk yourself up, right?” Edward’s billboard smile is the first thing that catches my eye when I turn around.
“There are easily three hundred people here,” I say, motioning to the room at large. “How is it that you pick me out and I’ve only been here for five minutes?”
“Fifteen. I saw you come in.” He winks at me.
A simple gesture. People wink at people every day, all around the world. That’s why it’s very strange to me that upon this particular wink, my knees decide to turn to jelly.
