Six, Maybe Seven

by Katie George

  Chapter Eight

  WORK THE NEXT Monday was arduous, especially after the wedding and the follow-up of Jamie’s incurable hangover. Eventually, I left my apartment and went jogging in the mountains, unable to take any more of Jamie’s “I need more soup, Emma” like I had suddenly become his mother. I wondered where Ella was in the moment of Jamie’s physical needs, but I pushed away the jealousy and looked forward to a week of work. Which seemed somehow unhuman.

  As soon as I got to the office building and into my crammed, stubby thing of a desk, I discovered a post-it note. Come to my office ASAP. -B

  So I stood back up, jamming my purse under the confines of papers from agents. Then I smoothed out my wavy hair—that I hadn’t bothered to do anything with sadly—and made my way to Baylee’s office.

  I opened the door without asking, as had been accustomed over the course of our month-long friendship. As I called her name, she spun around in her swivel chair like a famous starlet in a big-budget production, her silhouette illuminated by the hint of Los Angeles skyline beyond. She leaned over her desk and motioned me over. “You will not believe what I have to tell you, Em.”

  She had learned my real name a week into our friendship, when she’d presented me a gift of monogrammed lilac towels for completing (and not dying while at) my first two weeks of the job. After that, she took to calling me “Em” just like Jamie did. Usually I would take insult, but I had grown to enjoy Baylee, who still retained the melodramatic spirit all the time—something she would probably never lose.

  “What?” I asked, falling into the chair across from her. The stud in her nose glowed. It made her look like an edgy superhero.

  “Becki completely spazzed out on us. She left her papers with Richard on Friday. Once her two weeks are up, you’ve got a promotion.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, jumpy. This would make my status go up a little more, from casting director’s assistant’s assistant to assistant’s assistant. Though I hoped I’d be able to work with someone other than Megg and Becki, I’d been assigned to their team again for the new TV show. Yet I could handle Megg, and I was ready to prove myself. “This doesn’t happen, does it?”

  “Not usually, but you deserve it.” A hint of a grin shadowed her face. From what I’d learned, Baylee never smiled. She didn’t adhere to Kim Kardashian-esque rules like smiling would cause wrinkles, but Baylee never really had a reason to smile.

  “Thanks for telling me.”

  “No problem, Em. Anyway, the wedding was good, I take it?”

  “Fine. How was the party in the Pacific Palisades?” We went back to our non-enthusiastic selves, though I was still grinning. I’d also gathered that Baylee did not like over-amped positivity in her life, so I toned myself down in her presence, although I was never a true optimist. Baylee and Richard had attended some party for a big-time producer for a huge studio name. It could help with our clientele, as it would pave the road from nothing shows like Joan D’Narc to follow in Grey’s Anatomy’s footsteps.

  “Good,” Baylee said, pulling a nail file from a cabinet in her mahogany desk. “Julienne Drain was there, and oh my gosh, Emma, she was so drunk. It was so embarrassing when she tripped down the stairs and her gown flew up. Everyone saw her crotch. No one got a photo, though, but if they had, someone would’ve made a pretty penny for a look at the family jewels.”

  “Eek,” I said, having already accepted Baylee’s persona. She appreciated when others failed. “I never liked Julienne.” Which was true, but part of me felt bad for her.

  “It is always kinda a drag to go to these things with Richard,” she said, not seeming to care that her voice was loud and the walls were not soundproof. “He’s always sucking up to people, always. So that leaves me socializing with all these arrogant people who’ve been called stars all their lives. It’s ridiculous and so petty. You know what, you should come with me to the next one. That way we can have some fun.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. You really have no understanding of how boring it can be. That’s why I need you.”

  After I left Baylee’s office, I spent the rest of the day gathering last-minute information from agents to process the finality of the auditions that would begin the next day. After lunch, I was feeling quite loopy but refreshed, and just for fun, I googled Kauai onto the search browser of my phone. Immediately, photographs of large, sharp green mountains and lush countryside filled the screen—along with crystal-clear images of cerulean and navy waters in the forms of oceans, natural pools, and secret cave systems littered with waterfalls. My heart was bursting. Annabel was a very lucky girl.

  Then I remembered the day trip I’d committed to with Sam Woodshaw. Even if Jamie were there, it felt like Sam had been asking me on a date, which would be something irresponsible of me to agree to. He was on the cusp of stardom, and I’d just assumed he wanted to be with me. Preposterous, I decided; Sam really was just a guy looking to let loose. Maybe his life was filled with so many parties, studio calls, and booked appearances that he needed a semblance of normal life, which he’d somehow found in Jamie. Selfishly, I decided I was just an added thing, the extra biscuit no one ever eats (terrible analogy, I know).

  It would be only two weeks before I was destined to fly off to Lihue, Kauai, Hawaii, for an extravagant long weekend. I’d already had it cleared with Megg, Baylee, and Richard, who all agreed that weddings are hard to come by, and I deserved to be at my friend’s nuptials. I had been surprised at how accepting they were of my being gone for nearly four days (including a weekend), but I’d learned that I had made it into the good graces of my bosses, which is never a bad thing.

  After work I called Annabel in the sepulcher of my car while I sat in binding traffic, cars omnipresent in all directions. “Hey,” I mused, waiting for her California accent to fill the radio speakers—thank goodness for Bluetooth.

  “Emma! Just the person I was looking for. So, didn’t you think Chelsea’s wedding was to-die-for? So big and stuff! Well, I’m hoping mine will be more intimate, don’t you think?”

  “Kauai is a very intimate place,” I concurred, my eyes dreamily batting at the thought that I’d be jumping on a private jet with Annabel and her entourage for a Hawaiian wedding/mini-vacation.

  She cleared her throat. I imagined her bleach-blonde waves and big blue eyes, the fact that she was half-Dutch and half-Australian, plus the fact she’d grown up in luxury as the daughter of a record label executive on the Sunset Strip. It was actually a joke that we’d met and become such close friends. I’d been dared to score a moment’s time with the most popular girl on campus—Annabel Rey Tipton, who was practically royalty—and while expecting her to rebuff me, she welcomed me into her arms (literally) and introduced me to her friend group. I’d assumed they would all be stick-thin, rich, and blonde, but in reality, Annabel was a caring, genuine—albeit spacey—person, but she had a spirit that could not be rivaled. She was one of the most generous people I knew, as she devoted her time to being a part-time fashion designer and full-time philanthropist.

  “I’m really glad I invited so few people. It will give me more time to spend with those who mean the world to me. So, are you all prepared? I want you to come over soon, maybe this weekend if you can, so we can discuss the plans fully.”

  “That should work,” I said quickly. I’d been to her Hollywood Hills mansion many a time, but each step I took on the premises was like a little arrow into my layman’s heart. She only owned one home, but I could tell she was self-conscious about it, and she’d confessed to me she wanted to sell it and take up a loft somewhere without the aura of “rich.” I believed her. “Friday? Saturday?”

  “Anytime that is good with you. Saturday would probably work best for me, but if Friday is best for you, we’ll manage.”

  “Saturday it is.”

  “Oh, one of my little sisters just came in. Hi, Chiara! I’ll see you Saturday, right, Emma?”

  After I hung up, I was genuinely pl
eased with how my life was shaping up to become.

  I made it to the apartment in Glendora later than I usually came home, right around six-thirty thanks to traffic, and found Jamie sitting at our makeshift dining table with two plates of spaghetti and a little cake.

  “What’s the occasion?” I asked, my eyes lighting up. I had a feeling he would tell me good news.

  He looked up at me, his eyes as big as llamas’ ovals. “I got my big break, Texas. Like this is huge.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, throwing my purse on the floor. “Are you serious? Jamie!” I hurried over to him and hugged him tightly around the neck, not being that careful I could choke him, because he did partially deserve it.

  “I started auditioning for this role a few months ago, and I thought there would be no chance. It’s for this big upcoming action film about an alien invasion, and they called me back in last week. I didn’t feel that good about it, honestly, but I got the call today from my agent. I’ve got the part!”

  “No way!” I screamed. “You’ve worked hard for this.”

  He nodded, his eyes beaming with happiness. “I called my mom, and she about flipped out. My dad says he wants to come out to LA to celebrate.”

  “Jamie, I can’t believe this!”

  “I’m going to the studio to meet with representatives tomorrow. Can you believe my good fortune?”

  “Divine providence,” I reminded him gently. “Tell me all about it as we eat some of Mama Stewart’s recipe for spaghetti.”