Chapter 2
Lila
“You’ll never have my heart, Rodrigo Alejandro Suarez.
” I clasp my hand to my chest and look to the right dramatically, my lips trembling in tortured emotion as my shoulder-length blonde hair bounces against my back.
“I will never forgive you for sleeping with my sister.” My voice catches, and I blink rapidly, desperately trying to get tears to fall.
Zero tears fall. My eyes are drier than the Sahara Desert.
I pinch myself with my newly manicured pink nails and start again. “You’ll never have my heart, Rodrigo Alejandro Suarez. I will never forgive you for sleeping with my sister. Just because I am a paralegal doesn’t—”
“Your man slept with your sister?” The older lady sitting next to me on the train looks up from her phone.
She speaks with a slight Southern twang, and I try to ignore how disgusted I feel as she chews her gum loudly and droplets of spit go flying everywhere.
There’s a look of pity in her blue eyes, and I quickly shake my head.
“No, not at all.” I smile to show her I’m not genuinely sad.
“I don’t even have a sister.” I hold up the stack of half-crumpled pages in my hand.
“I’m trying to memorize lines for my audition.
It’s for a TV show.” I try to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“It’s a small role, but if it goes well, it could lead to more bookings at Telemundo.
” I sit back, trying to make myself comfortable on the cold plastic as it presses into my thighs.
I knew I should have worn a longer skirt.
There’s also a distinct and unpleasant body odor in the train that I’m trying to ignore.
Riding the subway is not for the faint of heart. I stare down at my short navy skirt and bare skin and squeeze my thighs together. There’s a man standing to the left of me, holding on to the pole, and he appears to be licking his lips as he stares at me.
“Oh…” The older woman scratches her nose, and I look away as she digs into her nostril. “I was going to tell you to light his shit on fire. Burn it all to the ground.” She’s getting agitated now. “Don’t let him get away with it!”
“It’s not real,” I say as I glance back at her.
Maybe it had been a mistake to rehearse on the train.
“I think you misunderstood me. I’m an actress.
” I pause to wait for her to ask if I’ve been in anything she’d know or possibly mistake me for someone famous, but she just stares at me, no excitement or recognition in her eyes.
“I’m just reciting my lines. See, they’re here on the page.
” I push the page toward her. “I’m not burning anything down.
I don’t even know a Rodrigo Alejandro Suarez. ”
“Aha…” She nods and offers me a huge wink. “And I don’t know a Danny Johnson that lives in Florence, South Carolina. And, officer, I sure don’t know how his car got all them scratches on it after he fucked around on me at the strip bar.”
“Uh, okay.” I push my papers back into my handbag and look around the train. The blue-haired skateboard hippie on the other side of us appears to be listening to music on his phone, but I can see his lips twitch as he keeps glancing at us. He’s eavesdropping.
Unless he's glancing at my handbag. It’s a real Chanel bag that my best friend, Zara, got for me when I moved into my own place a couple of weeks ago. I stand up and head to the doors so I can get off at the next stop. I’m not taking any chances that I’m about to be robbed. Or molested.
The man who was holding the pole is now closer to me and trying to look down my shirt.
It’s professional in that it’s a shirt, but the top two buttons are undone, and I know boobage is showing.
But the outfit is for the role: Maria Conchita Violeta Estella Diaz.
Maria is a professional, but she likes to appear sexy.
I am neither a professional nor naturally sexy.
I wish I had the sassiness that permeates the character on the page.
Though, I don’t really like pervy men looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.
I really need to stop taking the train, but it’s not like I can afford cabs, and my hopefully soon-to-be skinny ass has no interest in walking the four miles in the hot sun from 121st Street and Amsterdam to Ninth Avenue and 31st Street, where the audition is being held.
It’s an hour-and-a-half walk. In heels. Not going to happen.
The next stop is Lincoln Center, three stops and twenty-five blocks before Penn Station, where I should be getting off.
I hesitate as the doors open. I don’t really want to walk any farther than I have to, but as I look around the train, I see both the sketchy, perverted man adjusting himself as he stares at me and the skater kid, who is definitely eyeing my bag, and hurry off and onto the platform.
I’ll just have to walk. And try not to die of exhaustion.
My phone rings as I head up the stairs, and I smile when I see it’s Zara. I answer immediately. She’ll know how to calm my nerves.
“Hey, girl,” I answer and take a deep breath as I get to the top of the stairs. “What’s up?”
“Why do you sound so out of breath? Did you go running?”
“Did I get a lobotomy? No, of course, I didn’t go running.
” I join the throngs of people leaving the subway and make my way to the street.
“Though, maybe I should start running so I can get into better shape.” I take another deep breath.
“I had to get off the train early, and now I have to walk a billion blocks in those black heels I got on sale from Neiman Marcus, and my feet are already killing me.”
“Where are you off to?”
“My audition, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, where you have to sing Ale-Ale-jandro to your cheating ex?” Zara’s tone is light, but I know she wasn’t impressed by the script.
“Zara, look, I’m telling you that even though the show isn’t Shakespeare, it could lead me to get a TV deal with Telemundo.”
“But you don’t speak any Spanish, Lila,” she reminds me. “Why on earth would they want you?” She stops abruptly. “Wait, that came out meaner than I intended. I just meant that…” Her voice trails off, and I let her stew in her contrition for a few seconds before I burst out laughing.
“It’s fine. I don’t actually think I’ll get the job.
There’s a job fair in the building next to the audition, so I’m going to hit that up, as well.
Find me a way to pay the rent on my gorgeous new place in Morningside Heights.
” I beam as I think of my three-hundred-square-foot studio apartment.
I only have an inflatable mattress so far, but I don’t mind.
“Lila, you know that Jackson is more than willing to hire you at his company…” she starts but doesn’t continue.
She knows that I don’t want any handouts from her new billionaire fiancé, Jackson Pruitt.
He’s hot, and I love him for her, but I want to make my own way.
Or at least try for more than three weeks before I give up and go running home with my tail between my legs.
“No, thank you.” I keep my tone pleasant because, even though I’m not willing, I’m still grateful for the offer. “I appreciate it, but—”
“But you don’t like to take handouts, and you want to make it on your own.” Zara sounds like she’s reciting lines from the Lila Haversham handbook. “I get it, so I won’t offer again, but if you need anything, you better come to me.”
“I will. I promise.” I continue my way down the street and avert my eyes from the pastries enticing me from the French bakery I’m passing.
What I wouldn’t give for a pain au raisin and a double shot of espresso right now.
However, I have neither the money to waste nor the time to give, as now that I’m walking to the audition, I will arrive about three minutes before schedule.
“You’ll never ever ever have my heart again, Rodrigo Alejandro Swore…
ah shit, what was it again?” A young woman with long, fiery red hair and green eyes curses under her breath as she passes me.
I watch as she grabs a page from her handbag and reads what appears to be the same script that I’ve been memorizing all morning.
“Hey, Zara, can I call you back later?” I whisper into the phone. “I need to concentrate on getting there.”
“Sure thing. Break a leg, Lila.”
“Thanks.” I hang up and hurry to catch up to the redhead, who has now passed me, which is an admirable feat because she’s in heels even higher than mine.
“Hi,” I say as I step into sync with her. “Are you also auditioning for the part of Maria?” I ask with a warm smile, hoping she is friendly and not combative like some of the other actors I’ve auditioned against.
“Yes, I am.” She looks at me, and I notice that her green eyes are, in their own way, just as fiery as her red hair.
She’s striking and reminds me of some sort of Scotch-Irish warrior woman.
She would have fit right in with the cast of Braveheart.
“I doubt I’ll get it,” she says with humor in her voice, and I’m immediately warmed by the sound.
“I know I don’t look like the stereotypical Maria Conchita, and I can’t even remember the lines, but it’s all practice, right? ”
“I’m in the same boat,” I say as I play with my blonde hair. “But an audition is an audition.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Plus, I’d love to be flown to Miami and put up in a hotel.” She grins. “I need a vacation.”
“What?” I ask her in confusion. “Are they flying the cast out on a vacation?”
“No, but Telemundo’s studio is in Miami,” she explains patiently. “Whoever gets the job will have to relocate there for filming.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that.” I wrinkle my nose as I think about leaving New York and my brand-new apartment. “I don’t know that I can relocate right now.”
“You don’t want a free trip?”
“I’d love a free trip.” I laugh and hold out my hand awkwardly. “I’m Lila, by the way, broke-ass actress by day and even broker actress by night.”