—it turned into a puzzle and dissolved into a million pieces.
Wait...what?
I pried open my eyes and squinted up at the ceiling as bits of plaster and dust misted from above. A predictable sliding thump rattled the rafters, and I covered my face with a groan. Mrs. Wakowski was up to her Zumba earlier than usual today. My alarm hadn’t even gone off.
Then it went off.
“You are going to be late again. You silly, irresponsible girl. You are going to be late.”
Speak of the devil. It started repeating the same line over and over again. I slammed the top of the clock and cursed the cosmic forces once again for sticking me with this apartment. It wasn’t easy to find affordable living in East Hollywood. Certain horrifying concessions had to be made. Mrs. Wakowski and her early morning Zumba were just the tip of the iceberg. Then there were the roaches, the gas leaks, the police helicopters, and the overall stench of urine baking up from the sidewalks. But my recurring dragon dream...?
To be honest, I had no godly idea how that fit in.
I shimmied out of bed and landed on the ground with an undignified thud. My industrial-grade fan—aka “my personal savior,” aka did I mention there was no air-conditioning?—shot all my hair back like I’d been shocked and I was quick to angle it away with my toe as I pulled myself up to my full height and cast a wary glance into the mirror.
This had to be what they meant when they said, “trying to make it in LA.” I felt like I was the poster girl.
Long auburn hair, pale creamy skin, a pretty face, and a rail-thin body. In any other town, I’d be a knockout, a star. But for whatever reason, in this city built on the parking tickets and rent traps of other small-town stars, I was one in a million. And not in the good way.
With a habitual sigh, I leaned in to see what the damage was today. Eyes were red, but not puffy. Dark circles were already fading. Not bad after a night of heavy drinking. My liver, on the other hand? It was best not to think about it.
There’d been a lot of these nights lately, it seemed. It had started as a tradition between my roommate Amanda and me. Every time we didn’t get a part we auditioned for (this included getting turned away from the casting beforehand because the coveted two-line role had been filled sometime in the six hours we were standing in line), we would come together over a bottle of tequila and flip on a Netflix fest as we wallowed and swallowed our grief. It was actually pretty fun. Much more fun than waiting forever at the castings.
A muffled retching from bathroom let me know that Amanda wasn’t having as much fun as I was.
I slipped on a pair of amethyst scrubs, pulled my hair back into a messy bun, and grabbed my Chapstick as I made my way out into the hall. Deevus, our three-legged cat, hobbled past me chasing a Tasmanian twister of dust sent flying by my fan. I tripped over his knobby back and set him off yowling as I made my way to the bathroom.
“Sorry, Deevus. Tell ya what. I’ll get you some milk.”
I poured a tiny bit of milk on a plate and set it on the floor. “Am I forgiven?”
He meowed. I kissed him on the head and listened to him purr. He was a stray my roommate picked up. We had no idea if he had been in some kind of accident, but we loved him all the same. He could be grumpy at times, but that’s when we loved him even more.
After pulling on my shoe, I knocked softly on the door. “You okay in there?”
A half-strangled gurgling noise answered me. Something that actually sounded uncannily like our cat. The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and a second later, I heard Amanda slide down against the other side of the door.
“That was the last time,” she moaned. “I’m serious.”
“Yep,” I agreed, as I was certainly expected to. “
Well, I’m off to work, okay?”
“How can you even think about work at a time like this?”
I rolled my eyes with a grin. The predictable answer of a spoiled cul-de-sac princess.
“I love it,” I answered bitingly. “I wish I could be there all the time.”
She snorted on the other side of the door. I could almost picture her laying her clammy cheek against the cool tiles on the floor. It was a comfort move both of us had done many, many times. It was also the reason we kept the bathroom impeccably clean.
“Was that Deevus that wailed earlier?”
“Yep.” I pulled on my other shoe. “I gotta go—I’m going to be late.”
“Did you get that guy’s phone number last night? He was hot.”
I blew out a long breath.