“Everything’s out of the way in Hollywood. It’s fine. I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”
“See you then.”
“Who are you seeing when?” Chaser asks.
“Pamela’s picking me up at seven.”
His mouth turns down. “I wanted to drop you off tomorrow.”
“I’m not a little kid going to my first day of school, Chaser.” I wave my hands at him. “Don’t you need to be in the studio mixing the album or whatever?”
“Yeah. Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as easy as Thom thinks.”
“No kidding.” I tap his chest. “Watch out for Jacob. His wounded pride isn’t going to let the snub from the music awards slide for long.”
“Christ. It’s not like it’s the VMAs or the Grammy’s.”
I press my hand over his lips. “Humility and grace,” I remind him in a bad imitation of Thom’s stern manager voice.
He chuckles and kisses my palm, before tugging it away from his mouth. “I’d only say that to you.”
“Pamela told me not to mention it on the set. As if I was going to go in wearing a Video Vixen sash across my chest the first day. I’m so nervous, I’ll be lucky if I don’t pee my pants.”
He loosely wraps his arms around my waist. “You sure you wouldn’t rather have me take you? She’ll probably make you even more anxious.”
“Maybe. But it’ll be nice to have a friend on the set, you know?”
“Some friend,” he mutters.
I poke him in the gut. “Hey, this is your fault for being best buds with Andrew.”
“Actually,” he teases, drawing out the word, “You met Pamela first. So technically, you brought them into our lives.”
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth with both hands. “You’re right.”
He tickles his fingers over my ribs. “You’re going to be awesome tomorrow. Don’t let Pamela rattle you.”
I should’ve taken Chaser’s warning more seriously.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Pamela asks after I’m situated in the passenger seat of her shiny, black Porsche. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in a bathing suit and bathrobe most of the day, anyway.”
I glance down at my white denim skirt and pink T-shirt, not sure what’s so offensive about it.
We both have to produce ID to be allowed onto the set. Even Pamela, which helps me feel less like an outsider.
She zips into a spot in front of a long, narrow building and turns to grab her bag. “Ready?”
“I think so.”
She leaves me in the hands of one of the show’s assistants. I’m taken to wardrobe, fitted with a bright yellow bathing suit cut low in the front and high on the hips, then dropped off at makeup, where I finally see a friendly face.
“Cindy! How are you?”
“Nervous as heck.” She lowers her voice. “It’s my first day too.”
“It’s meant to be. We’re going to do all our Hollywood firsts together.” I laugh and hug her.
“I sort of let it slip that I’d worked with you before.” Cindy drops her gaze. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh my God, of course not. I’m so excited you’re here!” Even though I haven’t seen her since the disastrous Blue Alien Incident, it’s like we’re old friends.
We catch up while she spackles makeup over my face and chest. Finally, I’m presentable and sent onto the set.
Even though I don’t have a lot of lines, I’m in the background a lot and need to be present all day. For a show about lifeguards, it seems like we spend an awful lot of time taking showers.
But who cares? I’m on a real television show!
By the end of the day, I’m tired but still buzzing with excitement from my first day.
“How do you feel?” Pamela asks me on our way to the dressing room.
“Good. It was fun.”
“That’ll wear off,” she promises. “I need to speak to Steve. I’ll meet you out by the car?”
“Okay.” I watch her walk off in the direction of the director’s office, before continuing down the hall. I’m inches from stepping inside the wardrobe room when I catch my name.
“We should probably burn Mallory’s swimsuit.” Laughter follows the comment. “Bet she’s riddled with STDs from dating that loser rock star.”
“And probably blowing the producer,” another female voice whines. “I’m sure she’s just as slutty as her bestie, Pam.”
More laughter.
The sting of humiliation washes over me. This is how people see me? Because I’m friends with Pamela and date a musician? They don’t even know me.
“That’s not true.” Cindy’s timid voice perks my ears up. Knowing she’s new to the show makes me appreciate her defending me even more. “Mallory’s not like that. We worked on a movie together. Skylar Mars hit on her, and she told him off. Her boyfriend punched him out. It was in all the papers.”
“That guy is so gross,” the first one says. They move on to discussing different directors and sets they’ve worked on, thankfully forgetting all about me.