Mason, you haven’t told anybody what happened at the Melrose Star, have you?”
“Of course not, that was our business,” I assure her.
“Good. That’s strictly between us. If word leaks, we’ll both look like idiots, but I’ll be the idiot slut.”
Apart from me and Mona, only three people know, and all of them know better than to share it with anyone else. That’s good enough for me.
So Claire hasn’t said a word to Mona about this equal pay thing. That scares me a little.
After I get rid of Mona, I decide to poke Claire directly to see what happens, so I send a text.
Been thinking about what happens when you lose? I sure have.
It doesn’t take long before a reply arrives.
You’d like for me to think about that, wouldn’t you?
A second later, my phone dings again.
But no, I haven’t. Because I won’t lose.
My reply is succinct.
Keep dreaming.
Her quick response:
You too. Because only in your dreams will you ever have sex with me.
I receive a final text from her.
Btw, your fantasizing about me is kinda cute. Kinda pathetic, too. :)
I stare at my phone. The taunting is expected and kind of hot, to be honest, but the obnoxious smiley face gets to me. What the fuck is she plotting?
8
Claire
T he waiter at Katto in West Hollywood brings two waters and asks if I’d like anything else to drink. I order a bottle of their best Cabernet Sauvignon. My dining companion, who hasn’t arrived yet, is actor T.J. Holland, who has a crucial supporting role in Texas Flood . He’s also one of Mason Stark’s clients. Getting his cell phone number was easy; Cheyenne is a world-class networker and has nearly every actor of any importance in her contact list.
T.J. agreed to meet me for lunch, but it took some convincing. He was hesitant to meet with another agent because Stark has done pretty well for him. His part in Texas Flood was pursued by dozens of actors, but a good audition, combined with the strong recommendation of Drake Manning, persuaded the producers to go with T.J.
“I’m not inclined to change agencies right now, Claire,” T.J. told me when I called him. “My father once told me never to jump off a ship that’s on course.”
“What if another ship comes by that’s going twice as fast on a better course?” I asked
That intrigued him enough to meet me over lunch. “Just to get to know each other a bit,” he said
Though it’s extravagantly expensive, I chose Katto for the meeting not only because Cheyenne told me T.J. loves a good steak, but also because the owner is a friend and I knew he would let me use the semi-secret back dining room. The space is large enough to seat a dozen people at a large table, but right now there’s just a table for two. That was my idea. It has a cinematic effect; that lone table in the middle of the big room looks like something from a Tarantino movie.
Though most people enter Katto through the main entrance on busy Robertson Boulevard, a side door off the rear service entrance leads to this room. T.J. and I can both park in the back and nobody will know we had this meeting.
I take another sip of wine, then check the time on my phone. I double-check my outfit, smoothing my white silk tank top and checking my red blazer. This is a big moment and there’s a lot riding on it. If I can’t convince T.J. Holland to sign with me, I will likely lose the bet with Stark. On the other hand, if I do my job properly, he’ll see that changing agencies is by far his best option.
After a couple of slow, deep breaths to relax, I sit back in my chair. Just as I do, the door opens and in he walks.
I greet him with a confident handshake and marvel at how handsome this man is. T.J. is twenty-eight years old and six-four with a weightlifter’s body. He’s got a tanned face with a square jaw and striking pale green eyes. His dark blond hair is down to his shoulders, and he’s growing a beard that will have to come off before the Texas Flood shoot. In faded jeans
“Of course not, that was our business,” I assure her.
“Good. That’s strictly between us. If word leaks, we’ll both look like idiots, but I’ll be the idiot slut.”
Apart from me and Mona, only three people know, and all of them know better than to share it with anyone else. That’s good enough for me.
So Claire hasn’t said a word to Mona about this equal pay thing. That scares me a little.
After I get rid of Mona, I decide to poke Claire directly to see what happens, so I send a text.
Been thinking about what happens when you lose? I sure have.
It doesn’t take long before a reply arrives.
You’d like for me to think about that, wouldn’t you?
A second later, my phone dings again.
But no, I haven’t. Because I won’t lose.
My reply is succinct.
Keep dreaming.
Her quick response:
You too. Because only in your dreams will you ever have sex with me.
I receive a final text from her.
Btw, your fantasizing about me is kinda cute. Kinda pathetic, too. :)
I stare at my phone. The taunting is expected and kind of hot, to be honest, but the obnoxious smiley face gets to me. What the fuck is she plotting?
8
Claire
T he waiter at Katto in West Hollywood brings two waters and asks if I’d like anything else to drink. I order a bottle of their best Cabernet Sauvignon. My dining companion, who hasn’t arrived yet, is actor T.J. Holland, who has a crucial supporting role in Texas Flood . He’s also one of Mason Stark’s clients. Getting his cell phone number was easy; Cheyenne is a world-class networker and has nearly every actor of any importance in her contact list.
T.J. agreed to meet me for lunch, but it took some convincing. He was hesitant to meet with another agent because Stark has done pretty well for him. His part in Texas Flood was pursued by dozens of actors, but a good audition, combined with the strong recommendation of Drake Manning, persuaded the producers to go with T.J.
“I’m not inclined to change agencies right now, Claire,” T.J. told me when I called him. “My father once told me never to jump off a ship that’s on course.”
“What if another ship comes by that’s going twice as fast on a better course?” I asked
That intrigued him enough to meet me over lunch. “Just to get to know each other a bit,” he said
Though it’s extravagantly expensive, I chose Katto for the meeting not only because Cheyenne told me T.J. loves a good steak, but also because the owner is a friend and I knew he would let me use the semi-secret back dining room. The space is large enough to seat a dozen people at a large table, but right now there’s just a table for two. That was my idea. It has a cinematic effect; that lone table in the middle of the big room looks like something from a Tarantino movie.
Though most people enter Katto through the main entrance on busy Robertson Boulevard, a side door off the rear service entrance leads to this room. T.J. and I can both park in the back and nobody will know we had this meeting.
I take another sip of wine, then check the time on my phone. I double-check my outfit, smoothing my white silk tank top and checking my red blazer. This is a big moment and there’s a lot riding on it. If I can’t convince T.J. Holland to sign with me, I will likely lose the bet with Stark. On the other hand, if I do my job properly, he’ll see that changing agencies is by far his best option.
After a couple of slow, deep breaths to relax, I sit back in my chair. Just as I do, the door opens and in he walks.
I greet him with a confident handshake and marvel at how handsome this man is. T.J. is twenty-eight years old and six-four with a weightlifter’s body. He’s got a tanned face with a square jaw and striking pale green eyes. His dark blond hair is down to his shoulders, and he’s growing a beard that will have to come off before the Texas Flood shoot. In faded jeans
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