Second House from the Corner by Sadeqa Johnson

wanted.
    The audition is at Fifty-Second and Eighth, and I maneuver into a parking lot a half block away. The cost is exasperating, but what can I do but cross my fingers that this commercial will pay back dividends?
    Now, you know the odds are against you. Actresses come a dime a dozen.
    But I ignore her. I pop down my driver’s side mirror to refresh, recheck, and regather. My Louise Hay affirmation is taped to the visor on a yellow Post-it so I read it out loud while looking myself dead in the eye.
    â€œAll is well. The Universe supports me at every turn.” Preston thinks talking to myself in the mirror is bonkers and maybe it is, but I do it anyway. When I step out of the car I am ready.
    *   *   *
    â€œMorning.” The petite blonde smiles at me from behind the small desk.
    â€œFelicia Lyons, here for Samsung Galaxy.”
    â€œRoom eight.”
    She hands me the copy and I’m relieved that it’s the same lines I’ve practiced. Sometimes they change them at the last minute.
    There are two women waiting in front of me. I give a polite smile; one smiles back, and the other nods. We all have similar looks but I’m the brownest of the bunch and I hope that works to my advantage. My mocha doe eyes are my best feature. I do an awesome surprise, and watch out when I have to gush and cry. I haven’t relaxed my hair since college, so my natural is long and thick and full of body. I go over my lines one more time, and when they call me in, I tell myself it’s all mine.
    *   *   *
    Shayla messages me to meet her at Landmarc at the Time Warner Center in Columbus Circle. I’ve never been inside the building, and when I see the directory of stores I wish I had more time to buy myself something. As always I’m on the clock. I have about an hour to meet with Shayla before I need to dash back for the kids and figure out dinner.
    At the entrance of the restaurant, I see Shayla sitting at a table by the window bent over her tablet. She is as beautiful as the day is sunny. I envied that when we were kids. Shayla woke up pretty. I always felt like I needed to do a little work to catch up. Her shiny hair was bone straight, hanging down her back. She had coal eyes, high Ethiopian-like cheekbones, and a natural pout to her mouth. When she turned to face me, I saw her hand-size breasts mushed together with a demi cut bra. No surprise there. That’s been Shayla’s trick for cleavage since we were eleven.
    â€œFaye.” She steps and hugs me. She smells expensive. I squeeze her back. She’s taller than me by an inch and her waist is small.
    â€œYou look great, as always.” I slip into the seat across from her and glance out at Central Park.
    â€œYou look good. How many years has it been?”
    â€œA few,” I say, knowing damn well that I haven’t seen her for at least seven years, before I married Preston.
    The waiter comes out of nowhere and is smiling down at me, asking for the order.
    â€œWhat are you having?” Shayla looks over at me.
    â€œChopped salad.”
    â€œSalad? That’s bird food. Give us two cheeseburgers and surprise us with your favorite draft beer.” She winks at the waiter.
    â€œI don’t drink beer in the middle of the day. I have to pick up my children from school.”
    â€œOne beer won’t kill you. Chill out. Damn, you uptight.”
    I feel weird. “So what you been up to?”
    â€œBusiness, that’s all.” She said business like it wasn’t the type of thing I needed to know. So I changed the subject.
    â€œYou want to see my kids?” I unlock my phone and pull up pictures. The waiter drops off the beers.
    â€œDamn, Faye, they are beautiful. Don’t look nothing like you.”
    â€œWhatever.”
    She looks over each picture slowly, studying at least ten before handing me back my phone.
    â€œYou could have made me godmother to at least one