Twist of Fate by Louise, Tia (free ebook reader for ipad .txt) 📗

think about her observation. If he’s not dead, don’t assume it’s over.

“Live my life, and slay.”

Twelve

Scout

“You did Shakespeare…” I’m sitting in front of Lorraine of Lorraine’s Bankable Talent, and she looks like every caricature of every talent agent you’ve ever seen.

Her voice is gravelly, a cigarette dangles from her well-manicured claws, and she squints with heavy fake eyelashes through bedazzled readers.

“I was Macbeth in the Big Fall Show at Clemson.” I’m sure she can hear the pride in my voice.

“College theater…” She hums under her breath as she continues reading my résumé. “What’s this? Who’s Warren?”

“I was an orderly in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. It was a smaller production but well-reviewed.”

“An orderly.” She bobs her teased head and takes a longer pull off her cigarette. “That’s it? The rest of this is high school. Why didn’t you do more in college?”

“Football took up most of my time.” I shift in my chair. “I was starting receiver, and we had practices, away games—”

“College athlete.” She frowns briefly before her eyebrows rise, and she bobs her head side to side. “You’re a good-looking kid. We’ll send you out for sports pictures and commercials.”

“I don’t want to be typecast.” Her eyes narrow fast, and I quickly add. “What I mean is, I’m up for anything that will help me get my foot in the door.”

“That’s a good boy.” She points an inch-long nail at me. “You’ve got the right attitude. I’ll call you.”

“Thanks, Lorraine.” I give her my signature grin, but she picks up her phone and swivels around in her chair, waving me away.

“You’ll hear from me. And get some headshots. I need black and white glossy. Any photographer will know what to do.”

“Sure thing.” I leave, unsure whether to feel encouraged.

She wants headshots. That’s a good thing, right? All I know is it’s too early to get discouraged. I need to find a good photographer.

My apartment complex in North Hollywood reminds me of something out of Karate Kid or an old 1960s motel. It’s tall stucco painted light blue with a huge pink flamingo on the middle tower. I like the retro feel of it, and there’s a swimming pool in the courtyard. The sun never stops shining, and in the two weeks I’ve been here, I haven’t seen a cloud. It’s weird.

An old lady with a little dog sits on a chair dipping her feet in the water, and I wave as I pass. “Hey, Cecilia.”

“You know I was named for that song.” Her voice is thin and yippy like her little dog’s bark.

“Hey, that’s cool.” I smile and give Oscar a pet on the head.

“You don’t know what song I’m talking about, do you?”

“I don’t, sorry.”

“Kids these days!” She holds up her hand. “It’s Simon and Garfunkel. Look it up!”

I laugh and tell her I will before jogging up the stairs to my shared apartment. Lucinda is a single mom with a little boy named Luis. They live across the balcony from us. Luis watches out the window as I unlock the door.

“Want to throw a football later?” His voice is small with the lightest Mexican accent, and I guess he’s between six and ten years old.

“Sure. Maybe after dinner?”

“Mama’s making Chipotle Turkey Chilaquiles.”

“Sounds delicious. Save some for me.” I give him a wave before heading into my shared apartment.

Crenshaw is standing on his head when I open the door. The answer to my wondering is last name. His first name is Tuck, Tuck Crenshaw.

“Did you get the part?” I toss my keys on the table.

I bought a used Honda when I got here. It’s old, but the previous owner gave me all the maintenance records. It took a bite out of my savings, but I learned fast having a car was vital in this city. Now I need a job. The production job I applied for fell through, and living in this apartment isn’t free. I confess, I’m feeling a little strapped.

“I did not.” His voice is quiet.

“Why the headstand?”

My roommate’s legs lower slowly. “Sirsasana is the king of all asanas.”

“The king.” I look through the mail on the table. Nothing for me.

“One minute in the morning and one in the evening will go a long way to keeping your brain healthy and shielding your body from paralysis.” He moves his hands from his head down his sides like a QVC model.

“I imagine paralysis would be a concern standing on your head.”

Tuck goes to the kitchen and puts on the kettle. My roommate is kind of an ultra-hippie, but he’s been in the city for ten years and knows just about everything.

“Lorraine said I need to get headshots done. Any tips?”

“Any photographer will know how to do actor headshots.” He scoops loose tea into a silver ball then drops it in a mug.

“So I’ve heard. I was hoping to get them cheap.”

“West Hollywood, Burbank, drive around and read the signs. There’s enough of them to be competitive.” The kettle whistles, and he pours boiling water into the mug. “I was studying my star chart this morning. Big changes are coming in the near future. Could be good. Or bad.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Pulling out my phone, I reread the text I sent to Daisy last night. Tired of traveling yet?

I was feeling down and missing her.

She’d sent back a smiling emoji. Headed to Atlanta tomorrow. Big buyer’s convention.

Send pix.

She didn’t reply, and anger heated my throat when I realized she’s probably traveling with Spencer the douche.

I have to stop texting her. We’re three thousand miles apart, and I’m not headed back any time soon. We need to get on with our lives, but I can’t forget her face when we said goodbye at the airport. Her expression was so sad, and her eyes… Her round, dark eyes were so deep.

I had to walk away fast before I said something I couldn’t take back.

It was only supposed to be two weeks.

We’re just friends, and I can’t stop thinking about her.

“Open auditions for a new pilot.”