5. One
One
Beau
“ D id you hear me?”
I winced, my phone tucked between my shoulder and ear as I stared across the parking lot. It was impossible not to hear my sister’s glee drilling into my skull.
“Yeah, I heard you, and you can fuck right off, Katie-Pie.” I shifted away from my car, the hot metal burning through my t-shirt.
Heat waves in L.A. were insufferable and well underway this June. Fortunately, my studio apartment had a brand-new A.C. unit. Unfortunately, my landlord refused to let me back inside.
A leak turned into a catastrophic repair, requiring me to vacate temporarily. The landlord needed a few days to fix it, but given I missed my last two rent payments, we agreed it best I not return.
Or he did, anyway, as I learned upon coming home this morning to find movers loading my shit onto the nature strip outside the parking lot.
The joke was on him, though, because a fat paycheck was heading my way shortly with the gig I secured yesterday on Richy Purdue’s latest film.
The original stunt double he hired tapped out due to an injury. It was an unfortunate risk of the trade.
But my free schedule provided a foot in the door that had swung closed two years ago.Tomorrow was a cast meet-and-greet, and I was pumped . The start of my redemption, baby!
“Well?” my sister prodded. “Do you have any thoughts on it?”
“Please refer to my previous response. I believe I was clear about fucking right off.”
I slid into the front seat, hissing as I patted the melting faux leather steering wheel.
Kate huffed a whine. “Beau, come on. I’m trying to have an adult conversation here and at least give you a courtesy heads-up.”
“You mean a heads-up that you’re holding my best friend in this entire world hostage on the other side of the country? If you’re asking for ransom, tough luck to that guy. I warned him.”
She snorted. “Okay, first of all, piss off. You’re jealous your best friend in this entire world loves me more. I respect that it must be difficult, and I am not reveling in the absolute joy of this knowledge. Not at all. Not even a little.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes. God, I hated and loved my sister in equal measure. “Yeah? What’s second?”
“Second, Jason and I want to take a side trip and visit when we haul his shit to New York. I… miss you. Jerk.”
My sister.
I kind of missed her, too.
“You just miss teasing me,” I pouted.
Kate sighed into the receiver. “Yeah, I miss teasing you. But can you blame me? I mean, did you see your eyebrows at Christmas?”
Ruthless, my only sibling.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I hit the road, determined to start over tomorrow with a new day and a new opportunity.
A blessing in disguise. The black mold along the window slider in the apartment looked questionable. That studio was shit.
Great A.C., though.
But the linoleum flooring probably had asbestos. I just saved my own life.
“You realize I make a living trying to resemble famous people doing dangerous shit, right? Stunt doubles have to look like the actors they’re stunting for. Doesn’t work well otherwise. Besides, my eyebrows looked fantastic.”
They hadn’t, but I bleached them anyway for a role. I would do it again with any and all body hair to land a solid job. My eyebrows were an easy sacrifice for my last film six months ago.
Six. Fucking. Months.
“Then how did you land a gig stunting for Chris Hemsworth? You look nothing like that chiseled Supreme Being.”
To my delight, I’d be stunt doubling for a Hemsworth… look-alike. A bit of a miscommunication with my mom led her to believe I was actually stunting for Chris Hemsworth.
She told my sister, who, despite her blustering, was so damn excited for me that I didn’t have the heart to admit the truth.
My ego was fragile, sore from a rough couple of years. Down and out, I kind of gave my family the teensiest impression that my success stretched wider than it did.
Easy enough to do when my parents rarely ventured to the hellscape of L.A. and my sister was too busy with work to visit.
But the pay for this new film with a Hemsworth look-alike was fan-fucking-tastic and could catch important eyes on my very chiseled face. Forget Kate’s nonsense. I resembled a carved deity.
This might not be my dream job yet , but it was a step closer. This gig would get me back on my feet after an injury a couple of years ago left me struggling to find solid ground.
Mistakes happened, but a broken hip and dislocated, torn-up shoulder were serious. The broken nose and contusions all over my face and body didn’t help. It looked gruesome when the insurance investigators documented my injuries.
It’d been a nightmare situation, and though I was not at fault for the car crash that crushed me, directors had been hesitant to take me on since.
My hip healed well, but my shoulder remained problematic, leaving me ineligible for some roles—sparse as opportunities already were. My bank account took a hit, but this new gig was the recovery I needed.
“Plenty about me is supreme, Kate. And I have the hammer of a god. I can swing it—”
“Stop talking!” my sister screeched. “Gross. Stop talking.” She sighed again as I bit back a laugh and turned onto Lincoln Avenue.
My thumbs tapped at the wheel while I sat at a light and mentally worked through a budget for my first paycheck. I would probably end up in another studio splattered in mold, but an inhaler could help with that.
“Shifting away from your delusions of grandeur, we’ll detour your way for a few days. Can’t wait to pee in your pool and wreck your mansion.”
My eyes drifted to the boxes piled in my backseat. I could bring my house to her .
After a few beats of uncomfortable quiet, Kate said, “I’m kidding. I would never pee in a pool, even yours. I’m an adult.”
Dirty liar. My sister was the type to pee in pools. Probably the bathtub, too.
I pulled into a parking space, keeping the car running for the A.C. Heat lines radiated from the newly paved lot, squiggling the air.
“Seattle to L.A. isn’t a slight detour, Kate. It’s a slog.” A convenient truth. “Not like you’re popping off for a day trip. It’s no big deal. I’ll visit you guys in New York once you’ve settled.”
“You won’t,” she protested. “You’ll be too busy working or something.”
Or too broke, but I was a touch arrogant and proud. Too much to admit my dire straits to Kate. For all the shit we slung, she would offer to help. For some reason, that stung more than the idea of camping out on a friend’s couch until payday.
“I’ll make the time,” I promised.
With this new gig? I might be able to swing it.
Living paycheck to paycheck—with an aching and aging body and an apartment packed and loaded in the backseat of my car—was not my Hollywood dream, but tomorrow would be a good day. I knew it.
“I pulled up to Sasha’s. I gotta go.”
Kate cooed. “Sasha.”
I met Sasha, one of my few friends in L.A., on the set of my first job. Fast friends. Forever friends. But not fuck friends. Admittedly, I’d gone without for longer than my dick liked. But somebody irresponsibly left my head in charge recently, and I’d been stuck in it.
My sister adored teasing me about my proclivities in life, jealous now that a ball and chain clung to her ankle. And trust me, my best friend was a clinger.
“Don’t hate that I get in and get on with it, Katie-Pie. Not all relationships require a U-Haul.”
Kate covered the receiver, muffling the conversation on the other side before returning. “Well, clear a spot in your driveway, Beau-Bear, because we’ll need a place to park the U-Haul. L.A. parking is a nightmare.”
“All the more reason not to come.” I rested my elbow on the window and rubbed my temple. “We’ll talk more later.”
Lies. I’d avoid her calls until the end of the summer.
She hesitated before asking, “Everything okay, Beau? You sound a little down. You’re never down. You’re like the human form of uppers. The last time you sounded beat up…”
“Was a while ago,” I finished.
The sun’s glare on the window burned my skin. Or maybe the implication of my sister’s observations stung.
“Six months,” she said quietly. “When you blew out of Windmere in a tantrum and returned to L.A. after an otherwise fun holiday at home.”
Raking my teeth over my bottom lip, I resisted the urge to bite until I tasted metal.
“Home is in California, and I didn’t tantrum,” I pointed out. “Besides, you only think it was fun because you were getting railed by Jason and living your teenage dreams. Gross.”
Kate’s delighted laughter did little to improve my mood. The last couple of years had been a tough stretch, but that was about to change. Things were looking up.
Sure, I pulled up to my friend’s house to plead for a place to crash until I got paid. And yeah, lying to my family about the circumstances of my life sucked. And okay, my body protested when I bent to tie my shoes.
But tomorrow, I’d start my redemption arc. I would spend a few months on set, bulk up my bank account, make smarter choices, and devise a long-term plan. This time, for real, for once in my life, I would get it together and find my place in this big, stupid world.
I hurried Kate off the phone by asking her how she landed a job requiring so little effort that she could chat on calls all day. She hung up on me with an angry huff and plenty of profanity.
Things were already looking up.
Tomorrow would be a new day. A new, glorious day.
Sliding out of the car and getting slapped in the face by the scorching heat, I rushed to Sasha’s apartment, the plastic soles of my flip-flops melting.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I chanted, ending at her door and knocking.
Today sucked. Yesterday, too. The day before, as well. But onward and upward to new ventures, promising leads, and the start of better luck.
The text alert came as Sasha answered the door, her mouth agape. She held up her phone with the same message.
This is not a drill. Negotiations have proved useless. We’re taking matters into our own hands. Official strike.