Tina tweaked her pigtails. “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.”
I walked over to my dresser to choose some earrings. Almost everything in my jewelry chest was from Frankie. I wished it didn’t have to end so soon.
But I had to let him go without a fuss, per our agreement when we began our faux relationship. In the time we’d been together, I’d gotten more manicures, hair appointments, and skin treatments than a beauty pageant diva.
He’d also bought me an incredible amount of gifts. Clothes. Furniture. A diamond-encrusted Rolex that was worth more than my car.
I’d gone to outrageous parties with famous musicians and movie stars. My name had as many Google hits as a B-list actress even though I was just a lowly undergrad who worked at a coffee shop.
It had been amazing.
But unlike in romance novels, my movie director boyfriend hadn’t fallen in love with me. He hadn’t even made a move. Everything was just as he’d laid it out in the contract. Event attendance. Fidelity. Charm. Lovesick expressions for the press. Occasional PDA when the photographers were around. We had an optional clause for a mild scandal as a publicity tool, but Frankie decided not to use it while we were together.
For our last night as a couple, he was introducing me around. I didn’t really think I had it in me to be an actress, and I liked pizza too much to go for modeling, but a non-talent position in those industries would suit me just fine. Even being on the fringe of the glamour was better than some boring desk job.
I didn’t have any other idea of what I was going to do with a liberal arts degree come graduation in June.
Just as I slipped the diamond studs through my earlobes, the doorbell rang. “That’s the limo,” I said. “Is the dress perfect?” I asked, turning in a tight circle.
“It’s gorgeous,” Corabelle said.
I smoothed the fabric across my belly. The dress was stretchy and form fitting. You couldn’t even wear a thong with it, or it showed. The top was off the shoulders with a tight band running across the front. So no bra really worked. The strapless ones had all seemed too bulky and the little tape-on lifters didn’t seem to do much for me.
So I was full commando. If I played strip poker, I’d be a goner in one round.
“I can’t believe you’re not wearing underwear,” Tina said. “Please tell me you’re not going to pull a Britney.”
“No way. I’m a class act,” I said with a laugh. “Not because I am. Frankie’s contract insisted on it.”
Tina snorted. “That must be one heck of a document.”
“It is. Was.” I tugged the skirt down. It wasn’t super short, hitting just above my knee. I didn’t think it was a risk. Besides, it was so tight that I could barely separate my knees.
“Call if you need me later,” Corabelle said.
I nodded, suddenly feeling my throat get tight. “It’ll be hard, giving all this up.”
“You going to look for a new sugar daddy?” Tina asked. “Bound to be some at the party.”
“No.” I picked up my tiny evening bag. “I’m fine with whatever happens. I can return to my man-hopping days.”
Corabelle headed for the door. “You’ll be back in your element.”
I dropped the lip gloss into my purse. “It’s been a while since I got to bang a stranger.” Or anybody, I thought. Strictly faithful to a platonic boyfriend. It would have been impossible, if the perks hadn’t been so fabulous.
I’d gone through a lot of batteries.
Corabelle gave me a quick hug, careful not to disturb my hair or makeup. “Just let me know if you need anything.”
The three of us walked through my apartment. I felt a wave of melancholy. I liked Frankie. Even though we’d never so much as made out other than in public, I was sad to see him go.
But also, it was losing this life. I was born for it. I didn’t mind the photographers. I didn’t care about the gossip. I loved the mingling. The way people worked a room, sizing up who they needed to talk to and who needed to talk to them. The whole hierarchy, shifting and changing, rising and falling along with box office returns and bankability.
The worst part of this whole arrangement was that it had to end.
Maybe a quickie with some rich, hot actor would make me feel better.
Yes. Yes, indeed.
Chapter 2: Chance
I sure picked the wrong road to hitchhike on today.
The wind picked up, and I pressed the neck of my T-shirt over my nose. The dust was unrelenting, like somebody was kicking sand in my face.
My guitar case banged against my thigh as I stumbled, hardly able to see as the desert floor seemed to rise up to the sky. Interstate 15 was only a few feet away, but I could barely make out the asphalt.
Hell, if the drivers were as blind as me, I could get run over any second.