“You’re welcome!” Phil gives a smug grin to me as we walk up.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Ana says, as she grabs the little plastic bag from Phil and disappears through a side door.
“Remember this. These models will do anything for a bit of blow,” Phil laughs. So now I'm supposed to be a drug dealer too? I am disgusted with the whole situation.
“All right. Let’s get this done.” Ana sits on the sofa with a thump. She rubs her nose and seems to be in a better mood than before.
“So David Adams…” I begin, not sure about what to ask.
“What a bastard! He was trying to sneak off in the morning when you caught him,” she tells Phil.
“And thank you for the tip!” He winks at Ana, as he shoots a few test photos of her.
“I met him at this party and he was rude, and cocky and so full of himself.” She lights a cigarette. Then why did you sleep with him? I want to ask, but don’t.
“But he is sexy man and he is soccer star so I say to myself, why not. For a sports guy, he can really party. He out-drank me and I'm Eastern European. That’s a big deal.” She blows puffs of smoke, carelessly directed toward me.
“Any drug use?” Phil asks. A soccer superstar using drugs would make for a great story. Ana pauses to think before she answers.
“Not really, no.” She sounds disappointed. “But he is an out and out party guy who is obsessed with sex. Even though he isn’t any good at it,” Ana chuckles.
“Is he big?” Phil asks.
“Oh not at all!” Ana laughs. “He is teeny tiny.” She gestures a length with a small distance between her thumb and index finger.
Jesus! Is this what my writing career has come down to? I'm reporting on the size of a celebrity’s penis. A year ago I was working for a literary journal and while pay may not have been great, at least I was surrounded by intelligent people, who care about literary arts. I got to review great books, poems and theater productions.
Now I have no clue what to write in this article about Ana. There’s no story here. Ana got drunk and had sex with a famous person and somehow I’m supposed to build a great story out of it.
“Enough about him. He is arrogant, rude and asshole. That’s all. Now let’s get to my story. I want a two-page profile on my career at least,” Ana demands, “...and I want to be on the cover.” She interrupts again just as I’m about to speak.
Jeez. This is gonna be a long day.
It takes two hours for m
e to get all the things down that Ana wants in her profile. Phil’s still shooting pictures but I’m ready to get out of here. I can’t take Ana’s condescending attitude anymore. Besides the constant smoking was making my eyes itch.
Since this David Adams person is a big deal, the magazine will run this non-starter along with the pictures of him escaping Ana’s apartment that Phil had gotten. This is not what I'm meant to be doing, runs through my mind.
I’m startled by the sound of my phone rang and my mother’s phone number flashing on the screen. Shit! I dread taking her calls nowadays. Every single time we speak, our conversation eventually goes back to the uncomfortable topic of saving dad’s failing bar. As I stare at the phone, getting ready to accept the call, I wonder how I should break the news of another rejected bank loan application to my mother.
Chapter 81
I pick up the magazine and throw it across the room and then kick it out the door. I’m furious. The last thing I need at this point is a scandal and I regret the moment I made the decision to spend the night with Ana.
“And now, the coach is gonna be up my arse over this. That old wanker doesn’t like me already as it is,” I say aloud in frustration to no one in particular.
“Look, David. This was obviously a setup. This Ana girl played you and there is nothing we can do about it. This piece is an absolute sham. I'm sure the coach will understand,” says Shauna, my PR agent, in a pacifying tone.
“You don’t know him Shauna. Hank Miller is a class-A pain in the ass. He takes the head coach job too seriously. He’s an absolute dictator. It’s always his way or the highway and considering his mind still resides in the 19th century, he is not going to take kindly to this news.”
“You want me to talk to him?” Scott, my manager/agent chimes in.
“Yeah, right!” I sneer. “He hates agents even more.”
“It’s just bad timing!” Shauna sighs, garnering a nod from Scott.
“The coach has already been chiding me indirectly for not living up to my ‘bad boy’ reputation as he terms it. That itself pisses me off and now this. Jesus!” I sit back on the couch, exasperated.