‘Oh, yeah?’
‘This is totally hush-hush, of course,’ she adds and I mmph in agreement. ‘He broached the unsurprising notion of bringing you back for the season finale. I gave him a half-hearted response because hello – my girl’s got one successful film out and another one releasing next month, right? So then he said – again, totally hush-hush-off-the-record-don’t-spread-it – that they’re planning to bring Xavier back to the show in the same episode, and the angle would be something to do with the two of you in a way that wasn’t kosher before now.’
She’s referring to the fact that when I left the show, my character was underage, and Xavier’s character owned a bar. Every scene we filmed together sizzled with sexual chemistry, but they couldn’t expand on it for fear of losing their family-friendly endorsements. Now, my character would be eighteen – legally able to bang the twenty-something stud.
Tastefully, of course.
‘But I’m so not done! Are you sitting?’
‘Uh, no.’ I whack long strands of dry grass out of my way with the stick I picked up a few dozen feet back, which makes me think of River, digging in the dirt in that photo. ‘But I’m good. Please, go on.’ The creek gurgles just ahead, where the edge of the property slopes. If it were summer, I’d be kicking my flip-flops off. Instead, I’m hunching into my hooded sweater.
‘So then I got a call from Hillary.’ Hillary was Janelle’s college roommate, and is now a PA for some studio exec – and Janelle’s number one source of studio gossip. ‘We’re going to get a call in the next day or so. You’re back up for the role of Monica.’
I stop dead at the crest of the incline to the creek, unable to reply. I wanted that role so badly last fall when I auditioned. I got two callbacks, but ultimately lost it to my top rival, who’d been born with two golden tickets in her bratty little hands – a movie-star mom and a rock-star dad.
At the time, three months ago, I told myself it was just one film, and there would be others, but that call from Janelle felt like a slamming door. Or punishment from a higher power for one of many transgressions.
The slow-moving water below is far too frigid for wading, but temperatures in central Texas are seldom cold enough to freeze even the edges of moving water. Soon, it will be warm enough to stake out a corner of the large, flat rock that juts into the creek. I spent most of my fourteenth summer with both feet dangling from that rock, skimming the cool, shallow water with my toes while I read or daydreamed, lying back and staring straight up into a big azure sky dissected by branches from the live oaks growing along the banks.
And then Mom remarried and relocated the two of us to Los Angeles.
‘Brooke? Are you there? You’d better not be driving –’
And here’s my agent, offering me the role I’ve been preparing for, pining for, ever since I first set my mind on film stardom.
‘Not driving. Just confused – I thought I lost that role when it went to Caren –’
‘Yeah, well, maybe Caren shouldn’t have decided to go drinking and skiing. She broke both legs and her pelvis!’ Janelle is comically gleeful at this announcement; my competition isn’t her client, after all. ‘She’ll be in a half-body cast until at least summer, and then weeks of physical therapy!’
The thought of Caren in a body cast is so sad. Not. ‘Wow, so I’m definitely in?’
‘According to Hillary, Caren just barely edged you out in the first place. You’re in. I have to wait until we get the call, of course, and do my own little “acting job” – pretending to be all shocked and surprised – but they’ll want to set up a few meetings before filming, which is going to start in Australia.’
‘Australia?’ I can’t believe I forgot this factor. But then, I thought I was out of the running.
‘That’s not a problem, right? It’s not like you’re tied down to LA – or even the US.’
Well, damn.
DORI
After a week of orientations, meet-and-greets and becoming adjusted to sharing a room, I’m ready for classes to begin. Entering campus mid-year has made the process more low-key, I think. I’ve been waiting for someone to recognize me from the few public photos, or grill me about my connection with Reid – but so far, nothing. The first time he shows up on campus and is recognized, my mundane status will be over. But until then, I’m finally here, at Cal. And for the first time in a long time, I’m contemplating my future.
My roommate, Shayma, is quiet. Whether she’s listening to music, studying, or watching clips or videos on her computer, she wears doughnut-sized, sound-cancelling earphones. I learned the level of sound-proofing the hard way, yesterday afternoon.
After an informal walking tour of Telegraph Avenue, I came back to the room and found her staring at her laptop, headphones in place. I gathered my things to take a shower in the bathroom we share with four other girls, and came back a few minutes later, settling on my narrow bed to read over my course syllabuses for the hundredth time.
In an attempt not to exclude her, I asked if she’d like to come out for pizza later with some other people I’d met. When she didn’t reply, I realized she couldn’t hear me. So I got up and tapped her shoulder – and she screamed like I was looming over her with a butcher knife and murderous intentions.
‘Barnacles!’ I stumbled back, eyes wide, as she yanked the already-askew headset from her head.