mocking your attempt to show you’re a real actress?”
“Maybe they wouldn’t mock. It could be my come back, my redemption. Hollywood loves those stories.”
“They love them for drug addicted child stars. Everyone roots against reality TV stars.”
His cynicism sent her hackles up. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you sent me on the show.”
“Elena. Honey. I know this is a hard time for you, but you have to think long run. You’re gorgeous. Smoldering. You made those other Suitorettes look like frigid hags. America knows you now. You just need to give them time to cool off a bit and then hit them with your heat again.” He paused to let that sink in then added, “The director of that horror movie is still very interested in you.”
He was, but Elena had met him once and was reasonably certain he only wanted her in the Oscar worthy role of Topless Co-Ed Victim #2 so he could try to get her topless—and bottomless—in his trailer on set.
“Just think about it,” Dale said, with a finality that let her know the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.
“I want real roles, Dale,” she argued. “I’m an actress, not a pair of boobs.”
“You’re both,” he insisted. “Which is why you’re going to be a star. Just be patient. I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up and she flopped down onto the couch in Adam’s gorgeous sunken living room, gazing out over the sparkling ocean view that was just as breathtaking as she’d imagined it would be when she first saw the windows last night. Here she was in heaven and she couldn’t even be happy because she was an interloper. This wasn’t her paradise. She hadn’t earned it.
She could call a friend to take her to pick up her car—but where would she go once she had it? And who would she call? She wasn’t long on friends. Not real ones.
She’d lost touch with most of her friends from Albuquerque and all her LA friends were actors—which meant they were more competitors and step-on-you-to-get-ahead rivals than trusted confidantes. In her recent brush with infamy, most of her acquaintances had either distanced themselves, sold stories of her to the tabloids, or tried to manipulate her into being seen in public with them so they could get their faces on the tabloids themselves.
The only ones she felt like she could trust were the other Suitorettes. And most of them lived half a continent away.
She checked the clock before dialing Sam. Noon central time. Sam was probably at work, but she could leave a message—
“Elena?”
“Hey. I wasn’t sure I’d catch you.”
“I’m having lunch with Jase, but when I saw it was you I decided it was worth it to ignore him. What’s up?”
And suddenly Elena didn’t know what to say. Sam was in the love bubble in Michigan, busy planning her wedding with the man of her dreams. The last thing she needed was to be burdened by Elena’s bullshit. “Nothing urgent. I should let you get back to Jase. We can talk later.”
“Don’t worry about Jase. He’s using this opportunity to check his email when I can’t give him shit for being a compulsive workaholic. You’d think moving back to White Falls would have slowed down the work obsession, but apparently you can take the boy out of the eighty-hour-a-week job but you can’t take the eighty-hour-a-week job out of the boy. Anyway he’s happy that I’m not making him pay attention to me when his email is singing its siren song. How are you? You were awfully quiet at the wedding. I’m not used to you and quiet in the same zip code, let alone the same sentence.”
The wedding felt like a million years ago, rather than the few days it had been. She didn’t want to bother Sam with the truth, so she just said, “I’m good. I think the LA grind is getting to me lately is all.”
“Come to White Falls! Oh, E! You have to come. You’ll love it. Summer up here is so gorgeous and peaceful. Promise me you’ll come.”
“I’d love to,”
“Maybe they wouldn’t mock. It could be my come back, my redemption. Hollywood loves those stories.”
“They love them for drug addicted child stars. Everyone roots against reality TV stars.”
His cynicism sent her hackles up. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you sent me on the show.”
“Elena. Honey. I know this is a hard time for you, but you have to think long run. You’re gorgeous. Smoldering. You made those other Suitorettes look like frigid hags. America knows you now. You just need to give them time to cool off a bit and then hit them with your heat again.” He paused to let that sink in then added, “The director of that horror movie is still very interested in you.”
He was, but Elena had met him once and was reasonably certain he only wanted her in the Oscar worthy role of Topless Co-Ed Victim #2 so he could try to get her topless—and bottomless—in his trailer on set.
“Just think about it,” Dale said, with a finality that let her know the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.
“I want real roles, Dale,” she argued. “I’m an actress, not a pair of boobs.”
“You’re both,” he insisted. “Which is why you’re going to be a star. Just be patient. I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up and she flopped down onto the couch in Adam’s gorgeous sunken living room, gazing out over the sparkling ocean view that was just as breathtaking as she’d imagined it would be when she first saw the windows last night. Here she was in heaven and she couldn’t even be happy because she was an interloper. This wasn’t her paradise. She hadn’t earned it.
She could call a friend to take her to pick up her car—but where would she go once she had it? And who would she call? She wasn’t long on friends. Not real ones.
She’d lost touch with most of her friends from Albuquerque and all her LA friends were actors—which meant they were more competitors and step-on-you-to-get-ahead rivals than trusted confidantes. In her recent brush with infamy, most of her acquaintances had either distanced themselves, sold stories of her to the tabloids, or tried to manipulate her into being seen in public with them so they could get their faces on the tabloids themselves.
The only ones she felt like she could trust were the other Suitorettes. And most of them lived half a continent away.
She checked the clock before dialing Sam. Noon central time. Sam was probably at work, but she could leave a message—
“Elena?”
“Hey. I wasn’t sure I’d catch you.”
“I’m having lunch with Jase, but when I saw it was you I decided it was worth it to ignore him. What’s up?”
And suddenly Elena didn’t know what to say. Sam was in the love bubble in Michigan, busy planning her wedding with the man of her dreams. The last thing she needed was to be burdened by Elena’s bullshit. “Nothing urgent. I should let you get back to Jase. We can talk later.”
“Don’t worry about Jase. He’s using this opportunity to check his email when I can’t give him shit for being a compulsive workaholic. You’d think moving back to White Falls would have slowed down the work obsession, but apparently you can take the boy out of the eighty-hour-a-week job but you can’t take the eighty-hour-a-week job out of the boy. Anyway he’s happy that I’m not making him pay attention to me when his email is singing its siren song. How are you? You were awfully quiet at the wedding. I’m not used to you and quiet in the same zip code, let alone the same sentence.”
The wedding felt like a million years ago, rather than the few days it had been. She didn’t want to bother Sam with the truth, so she just said, “I’m good. I think the LA grind is getting to me lately is all.”
“Come to White Falls! Oh, E! You have to come. You’ll love it. Summer up here is so gorgeous and peaceful. Promise me you’ll come.”
“I’d love to,”
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