by Paris Rose
“Okay, Mr. Taskmaster.” I rolled my eyes. “You get out of here and go to the studio,” I barked with mock attitude.
“All right, I’m going.” He smiled. “I have to shower. I will see you when you get back.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Same.”
***
Lately, I had been more serious than ever about excelling in my craft. Over the past few weeks, I’d attended countless workshops on everything from camera presence to voice and diction. I had even taken some private ballet classes to improve my posture and the way I moved. I was working really hard, and I was laser-focused on my goal of landing my own entertainment news show, but, for some reason, I wasn’t getting any on-air gigs at all. I wasn’t even getting as many auditions as I used to. Luckily, my freelance writing was bringing in more income than ever, and some of the stories I was breaking kept my name relevant as an entertainment journalist. I was grateful that at least I had work, but I was starting to grow impatient with the fact that I hadn’t been on air in such a long time.
Christoff was at the studio finishing up recording for the album, and I was at home brainstorming ways I could get closer to becoming an on-air personality. The sound of my phone vibrating caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat when I saw my agent’s name on the caller ID. Yes! A gig… finally! I picked up the phone right away. It was my agent’s assistant, Valerie. She asked me if I could come in to meet with Anya, my agent, later on today. I told her it would be no problem.
My mind was racing while I was stuck in traffic on my way to Anya’s office in Beverly Hills. She liked to handle most things over the phone or through email. She only called me into her office for really important meetings. This audition must be huge. My heart fluttered with excitement as I started to envision myself on the red carpet, interviewing A-Listers. I had wanted this for as long as I could remember. I even started taking journalism classes at community college during my senior year of high school. I felt like I was born to be on air, connecting with the most talented people in the industry. I got a little teary eyed as I started mentally rehearsing my thank you speech for when I received my Emmy for outstanding television. Ohmigawd! I can’t wait for the day! I was awakened from my daydream by the sound of someone behind me laying on their horn. Traffic had started moving, but I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed. I tried to remain focused on the road for the rest of my commute.
After I parked, I reapplied my lipstick in the rear-view mirror. I always made sure I looked like Hollywood material when I went to see Anya. It was starting to drizzle a little bit. It almost never rained in southern California, so I was a little perturbed that, on the one day I wanted to look my best, it was wet out. The humidity was not good for my hair, but I still looked decent. I was wearing brown suede knee boots, form-fitting cream-colored pants, and a burnt orange top that looked good against my caramel skin and sandy locks. I power walked across the parking lot to get out of the rain as soon as possible. As I walked through the sliding glass doors, I slowed down so I could take it all in. I was always blown away every time I went to visit my talent agency. The lobby was very modern, with all white furniture, white marble floors, and intricate platinum light fixtures with jagged edges. I checked in with security, hopped on the elevator, and pressed forty-one. The elevators were all mirrors with bright LED lighting that lined each panel of glass. It looked super futuristic. I smiled as I looked at myself in the mirror. Giavanna Johnson, today is the day that your dreams finally come true.
When the doors opened, I strutted up to the front desk, imagining applause from my studio audience.
Brad the receptionist stood to greet me. “Hello, Ms. Johnson. I haven’t seen your beautiful face in far too long.” He leaned over the desk to kiss me on the cheek.
“Awesome to see you, Brad. I’ve missed you.”
“Same.”
“How have you been?”
“To be honest, I’ve been better, Brad. Lots of drama going on right now, but I don’t want to talk about it, and you don’t want to hear it.” I chuckled.
“I love hearing about drama. After all, it’s why I work in the entertainment industry,” Brad said, laughing.
“Of course.” I smiled. “I get it. Everyone loves a good train wreck, until he’s an actual passenger on that train.”
“Aw, sweetie—what’s going on?”
I opened my mouth, and I almost vomited out everything that had happened over the past couple of months, from my indiscretion with Axel to Bianca’s allegations against Christoff. I was so stressed, and it was such a sensitive situation that I hadn’t talked to anyone about any of it—not even Amber. I had a lot bottled up inside, and I was longing for a listening ear, but, just as I drew a breath to speak, I realized what my mother always used to tell me when I was a teenager: a listening ear is a running mouth.
Brad was sweet, but he was one of the biggest gossips in the industry. I often got the inside scoop from him. I’m sure he knew all about the scandal between Christoff and Bianca, but he didn’t know that I was dating Christoff. After what happened to my reputation in my early twenties, the first time I lived in L.A., when I got mixed up with the wrong people in the industry and got caught up in my own scandal, I was always careful to keep my romantic life to myself. I was an expert at avoiding the paparazzi. I didn’t want anyone who was a part of my professional life as an entertainment journalist to know I dated men in the industry. I didn’t want to risk being accused of riding someone else’s coattails. I wanted to be a celebrity in my own right, and I wanted to be recognized for my talent rather than my connections. I literally bit my tongue to keep myself from venting to Brad about my highly dramatic complicated life. I stopped myself from spiraling into a fit of anxiety by taking a deep breath and remembering what I was there for.
“Thanks for asking, Brad, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here to see Anya. I hope she has good news for me.”
“I hope so too, love. I want to see more of you around here. You’re one of the only people who comes into this office that actually has a personality. The rest of them are just a bunch of pretty faces with sticks up their asses, but you’re the real deal, sweetheart.”
“Aww, thanks, Brad. You’re so sweet. I really needed to hear that right now, more than you know.”
“Anytime, I mean that. I’ll let Anya know you’re here. Do you want coffee or tea while you wait?”
“No, I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
“Anytime.”
“I have to run to the copy room. I’ll be right back, love. Make yourself at home.”
My mind was racing with ideas of what kind of opportunity Anya was going to present to me. It was one of the first times in a long time I wasn’t consumed by the effect Bianca’s allegations had on Christoff.
As if she were reading my thoughts, Valarie called my name. I got up and met her halfway as she walked toward me. She took my hand in both of hers.
“So sorry for the wait, Hon. Anya was stuck on a phone call. She’s ready to see you now.”
“Awesome. I’ve been crawling out of my skin with anticipation, wondering what she’s got for me.” I thought I saw Valerie roll her eyes, but I couldn’t be sure. She tended to come off as rather cynical, but I never let it get to me.
“Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” she said with a hint of snarkiness.
Valerie led the way down a corridor to Anya’s corner office. Anya raised her head from a stack of papers when Valarie knocked on the door.
“Your 4 p.m.,” Valerie announced.
“Thanks, Val.” Anya nodded at Valerie, who obediently scampered off. “Giavanna! Come in.” Anya gestured for me to come forward. She was wearing a sharp red blazer, and long dark locks framed her face perfectly. Anya always looked immaculate, and her office was no different. Her desk was in perfect order, and, after a few visits, I noticed that the books that filled the shelf behind her were in alphabetical order. She was ridiculously organized and sligh
tly intimidating.
“You can sit down.” She gestured toward a pair of chairs in front of her desk. I did as I was told. “Thanks for coming in, Giavanna. I don’t want to waste too much of your time. More importantly, I have other appointments, so I have to get straight to the point. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure,” I replied quietly. Anya was never particularly warm, but today her curtness made me uneasy. I felt like I had just been called into the principal’s office to have a punishment administered.
“Well, I have some good news.” She smiled.
“Yay!! This is what I was hoping for.” I bounced up and down in my seat and clapped my hands together. Anya shot me a judgmental glare.
“Well, it’s good news for me. Not necessarily for you,” she said bluntly.
“Oh.” My heart sank.
“I accepted a position in the talent department at a larger agency, so I will no longer be representing broadcast journalism clients. Since there aren’t any other agents in this office who do what I do, that means you will have to find another agent.”
My stomach twisted in knots. I was speechless. My high hopes for being offered the opportunity of a lifetime crashed down into a wave of panic. I already wasn’t getting as many auditions as I would like to, and now I was without an agent.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I spoke up. “Do you know anyone in the industry you can refer me to? Anyone who will help me get called on a lot of auditions?”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m going to be frank with you, Giavanna. If I couldn’t get you a lot of auditions, I don’t think anyone in the industry can. You’re a cute girl, but you really aren’t what producers are looking for right now. You just aren’t that marketable as an on-air personality. I’m sorry.”
I was so stunned that I didn’t know how to respond. I’ve been through a lot, so I’ve developed a thick skin, but her comments hurt, especially in light of how hard I’d been working lately. I’d always had a feeling from deep within that told me I was meant to do this work as an entertainment journalist, but, in that moment, I started to feel like maybe my inner voice was delusional. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for show biz. I felt my eyes begin to smart. I bit my lip and swallowed the lump in my throat to stop myself from crying. I pulled my shoulders back and held my head high. I took a deep breath before speaking.
“I appreciate your opinion, Anya, but, despite being a successful agent, you aren’t the authority on what’s marketable. Maybe the reason why I haven’t been getting auditions lately is because you didn’t believe in me enough, so you weren’t pushing for me. I feel like your mind might already be on your new position, and you’re not focused on making opportunities for your clients like you should be. I believe that everything happens for a reason, so maybe this transition is best for both of us. I wish you all the best in your new position, Anya, but I’m not going to let your limited opinion of me hold me back. I’m going to find an agent that appreciates my talent and who cares about my success. Thank you for opening the door for me to do that.”
“I hope you get to where you want to go, Giavanna. I really do. But I would just hate to see you waste any more of your time on a career path that might not be a good fit for you, when you could be focusing on your writing, which you excel at. But you’re an adult. You have to find your own way. I wish you luck. If there is ever anything I can do to help you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Anya. I don’t want to burn bridges, but I doubt I’ll be needing anything from you in the future. I’d rather surround myself with people who believe in the vision I have for myself. I respect you as an agent, and especially as a woman who has done so well in such a cutthroat industry. I wish you good luck in all of your future endeavors. I know you’ll do great. All I want from you is for you to stand back and let me do great as well.”
“I must say, I like your tenacity, Giavanna. Hold on to it. You’re going to need it out there.” Anya stood and walked around her desk and extended her hand to me. I rose to my feet and gave her a firm handshake. “All the best, Giavanna.”
“Likewise, Anya.” We held eye contact for several moments. I was still hurt by her comments, but in a way, I was grateful to her for setting me on fire and motivating me to want to prove her wrong. I smiled before releasing her hand. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You do the same.”
I kept my composure the best I could as I turned and walked out of Anya’s office. They say, “fake it ‘til you make it,” right? I meant everything I said to Anya, and I knew that I deserved an agent who believed in me at least as much as I believed in myself, but Anya’s words shook me to my core. What if she was right? What if I didn’t have the “it” factor I needed to be successful on television? If it was meant to be, wouldn’t it have happened already? My self-doubt was mutating into a soul-sucking monster. My stomach was in knots as I stormed through the corridor, through the lobby, and out the door as quickly and quietly as possible, so I wouldn’t have to speak to anyone or explain to them that Anya had not only dropped me as a client, but she’d also deemed me unmarketable and pretty much told me to give up on my career.
Once I was in the elevator, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I felt so hurt and overwhelmed. The vision of me on the red carpet and interviewing A-Listers seemed so far away from me now. I couldn’t wait to get home. I really wanted a drink, but I was trying to cut back on drinking when I was down. It didn’t feel healthy, and, in the end, I always felt worse both mentally and physically. I could really go for a hot shower, some chamomile and peppermint tea, and some quality time with Christoff. On the other hand, I didn’t want to lean on him now because of everything he was going through, so I was hoping that I could get myself into a good mood before he got home.
The drive home was a blur of anxiety, racing thoughts, and self-pity. I practically dragged myself through the front door and threw myself on the couch. I mindlessly grabbed my phone and scrolled through the newsfeed on Facebook. I wished I hadn’t. Someone had posted an article with a very unflattering picture of Christoff with the headline: “Rockstar turned Rapist. Bianca Hathaway Speaks Out.” The post had fifty-one comments. As I started reading them, I wanted to vomit. People were saying horrible things about Christoff, and they didn’t even know the real story. People were also saying horrible and sexist things about Bianca that made me sick. Even though I didn’t care for her very much, I didn’t think it was fair or appropriate that people were slut-shaming her and calling her names for telling her story. I knew she was lying, but they didn’t. There was no way they could. I found it despicable that the public would ridicule and demean an alleged rape victim, and I was furious that there were others in the public that would humiliate and condemn a man when they didn’t even know the facts. The public seemed to be reveling in the drama that was tearing Christoff apart inside. I made a mental note to keep him away from watching TV or reading any news media. He was really tough, but he had already lost a lot of weight since Bianca had made her accusations public, and he wasn’t sleeping well. I would hate for him to see what people were saying about him. Their spiteful words were enough to destroy even the strongest man.
I was just about to shut my phone off when I saw a notification that a text had come through. I automatically checked it, even though I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. What the fuck? Could this day possibly get any worse?
It was Axel.
“Hey Gia, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, and I don’t blame you. I tried reaching out to Christoff, but he won’t respond. I think he is still mad at me, and I don’t fault him for it. There is something I really need to say to you, but I’d rather say it in person instead of via text. I promise you that I have no ill intentions whatsoever, I just want to talk. Can you meet up with me tomorrow?”
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the couch. I was not in the state of mind to deal with this
right now. I thought about just deleting the text and pretending he’d never contacted me, but I knew that would make things awkward the next time I saw him with the band. I silently debated whether I should tell Christoff that Axel had contacted me. I didn’t want to keep secrets from him, but I also didn’t want to upset him or cause controversy. I was totally overwhelmed, and I suddenly felt exhausted. I shut off my phone and tossed it on the coffee table before curling up on the corner of the couch and shutting my eyes. I took a few deep breaths to try to calm the sick feeling in my stomach.
Just as I was starting to relax, I was startled by the sound of the backdoor opening. Christoff was home. I was always happy to see him, but, at this moment, I didn’t think I had the energy to talk to anyone. I closed my eyes again as I heard him rustling around in the kitchen. I always got up to greet Christoff whenever he got home, but this time, I just didn’t have it in me. I started to drift into a light slumber. I didn’t know how long I’d been going in and out of sleep, but I woke up when I felt the weight of Christoff sitting beside me on the couch. I opened my eyes and stretched out to rest my feet in Christoff’s lap.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, sleepy girl,” Christoff said quietly.
“No, it’s okay. I’m happy to see you.”
“Same here.” Christoff leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. “How was your day?”
“Horrible,” I mumbled.
“Why? What happened?”
“Everything. But I don’t want to bother you with it. You just got in. You deserve to relax without listening to me bitch,” I sighed, attempting a smile.
“Come on, Gia. I always appreciate how considerate you are, but I want to hear what’s up with you. Talk to me.”
“The problem is that I don’t know where to begin.” I exhaled loudly.
“It’s that bad?” Christoff gently grabbed my foot and began to massage it with firm, deep strokes. His touch felt delightful. He always knew how to melt my stress away.