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Callum groaned. ‘Look, I messed up.’
‘I’ll say. How on earth did you think you could turn up drunk and not flunk it – big time? If you’re not careful, you’re going to get a reputation for being unreliable, and then you really will be screwed in terms of work.’
Callum thought it was already heading that way.
‘Do you know what my advice is to you?’
Callum rolled his eyes. He didn’t need advice. He needed a break. A job. Money.
‘Take some time out – and for god’s sake, you’d better get your shit together if you want to work in this town again.’ His agent paused. ‘Do you remember what I said to you when you got your first break?’
Callum bit his bottom lip and walked over to the sofa. He sat down. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘And did you follow my advice?’
Callum rubbed his forehead. He could feel a monster of a headache developing, on top of the dull ache he already had. He was still hungover from his drinking session in a bar the previous night. He didn’t answer that question, although he was sure that at some point in the conversation his agent would get around to reminding him just what that advice was.
‘I remember when you first started out fifteen years ago, fresh-faced, like all the others who have walked through my door, thinking you were going to be the next big thing in Hollywood. You started out, like all the others, when you got those bit-parts in terrible B-movies.’
‘You got me those parts!’ exclaimed Callum.
‘Yes, I know.’
‘I wanted movies.’
‘Yes, but what you needed was work and money.’
So, what’s changed? thought Callum, still rubbing his forehead.
‘What piece of advice did I give you back then, when you landed the lead in that show?’
‘Here we go,’ thought Callum.
‘An opportunity like that comes along once in a lifetime for the lucky few. Don’t squander it. Save the money. Buy a property. I hope you set yourself up for life because in this business, one minute you are someone, the next you’re a nobody.’
Callum decided he probably need a Tylenol to ease the headache. He got up from the sofa and walked into his bedroom to look in his bedside drawer. ‘Hey, honey. What are you doing up already? Come back to bed.’
Callum frowned at the young woman.
‘Who is that?’ asked his agent. ‘Is that your girlfriend?’
Callum stared at her. ‘No, she dumped me when I moved out of Beverley Hills and put my house on the market.’ He winced. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He could almost see his agent sitting at his desk, shaking his head in dismay.
‘That’s a shame. You two looked good together.’
And doesn’t that comment hit the nail on the head, thought Callum. They looked good together. The golden couple of prime-time television. Their relationship had been built on appearances – and when she’d discovered he’d mismanaged his money, and they wouldn’t be living in a Beverley Hills mansion, it was all downhill from there.
‘So, who’s the girl?’
Callum scratched his head, and looked at her. ‘Sorry – what’s your name?’
She frowned at him. ‘I told you last night when we met in the bar.’
‘Shit … sorry.’
She scrambled out of bed, taking the sheet with her, and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door.
Callum held his thumping head. ‘Oh, god.’
