Stronger

by Janet Nissenson

  Katie’s spine stiffened in anger. “So you’re firing me as a client based on what a few uninformed TV critics had to say?”

  Doug shook his head. “Actually, I’m basing it on my own opinions of your acting ability - you don’t have any. Look, Katie. I swear I don’t want to hurt your feelings or crush your spirit. But I’ve been doing this job for more than thirty years now. I’ve represented some pretty amazing talent. And, well, I’m very sorry to say that you just don’t have it. You’re exceptionally beautiful, and maybe we could pull some strings, call in a few favors, and snag you a modeling job or even a commercial now and then. But acting? I’m afraid that’s not going to happen for you any longer, Katie. I’m sorry to have to be so brutally honest with you, but you’re not a teenager any longer and you deserve to hear the real truth.”

  The rage that had been slowly building inside of her for the last few minutes grew to the boiling over point. It was only the acknowledgment that she needed to keep Doug on her side, and couldn’t risk angering him with a temper tantrum, that kept Katie from lashing out. To control the overwhelming anger pouring through her, she dug her nails so deeply into her palms that she winced in pain.

  “Please, Doug,” she begged in the high-pitched, little girl-like voice that had been getting her whatever she wanted since she’d been - well, a little girl. It had never failed to work on the men in her life - her father, male teachers, boyfriends. “Please don’t abandon me this way. You know how hard I’ve worked for this, how many years I’ve waited for my big break. And both of us were convinced that things were finally going to happen for me, that this sitcom would be just the start of bigger and better things to come. Don’t crush my dreams now, Doug. I’m begging you not to be that cruel.”

  Doug merely rolled his eyes in response. “Come on, Katie. That innocent, helpless little girl act might work on whatever gullible guy you’re trying to entice into buying you dinner. But I’m old, fat, and balding, a grandfather three times over, and believe me when I say I’ve seen and heard just about every plea, excuse, threat, and promise from my clients over the years. So whatever tricks you might have up your sleeve are not going to work with me, young lady. Our professional relationship is over, Katie. But I do hope you’ll take my advice and find a different career for yourself. Acting is not for you, my dear.”

  Katie’s spirits began to sink as she realized her usual feminine wiles wouldn’t work for her this time around. “You - you said something about commercials. Or modeling jobs. I’d be willing to settle for that,” she offered. “At least for awhile, until something else came along. I’ll do just about anything to remain in the business, Doug - guest spots on other shows, print advertising, whatever it takes.”

  “That’s something you can discuss with your new agent,” replied Doug. “Hopefully they’ll have better luck or different contacts than we do. Unfortunately, we just haven’t had any interest in you, Katie, no matter how hard we’ve tried to get you work.”

  Katie’s temper flared anew. “Well, whose fault is that, Doug?” she snarled. “You’re supposed to be the pros here, the experts. It’s why I wanted RMD to represent me, since you’re reputed to be one of the best agencies in the business. Maybe you’re getting too old and too set in your ways for this job, Doug. Maybe assigning a younger agent to me would get some real results.”

  Doug, who was normally cool, calm, and collected - three traits absolutely essential for someone who dealt with egocentrics on a daily basis - scowled in response. “Young lady, I’d strongly advise you to get an attitude adjustment - and fast. I can assure you that the reason the job offers aren’t coming in have nothing to do with how hard I hustle or my age. I’m afraid you’ve only got yourself to blame for your lack of success, Katie.”

  She frowned. “And exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” retorted Doug, “that it’s not just your less than stellar acting skills that have contributed to the lack of offers. You’ve acquired something of a bad reputation among casting agents, Katie, and that’s the main reason you aren’t getting hired.”

  Katie gasped in outrage. “Oh, my God! That’s preposterous, Doug! I do not have a bad reputation! Why, I’ve barely dated anyone since moving back here in February, and I certainly have never slept around. That just isn’t my thing.”

  Doug shook his head. “No, no. That’s not the sort of bad reputation I was referring to. Hell, maybe if you actually had slept around you’d have had more offers. Not,” he added hastily, “that I’ve ever once encouraged a client to do something like that. The bad reputation I was referring to is your professional one, Katie. Evidently you’ve managed to piss off quite a few people these past months.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” muttered Katie sullenly. “I’ve always behaved like a true professional when I’m on a job.”

  Doug snorted in derision. “More like a professional diva from what I hear. According to the reports I received you’ve consistently showed up late to sets, been unprepared and didn’t have your lines memorized, argued with the director, the cameraman, and most of your co-stars, and made all sorts of demands that even big stars rarely get away with. So given all that it’s little wonder we’ve had such a tough time getting you any work at all. And why we’ve chosen not to re-sign you. Now, as I said earlier, I can give you the names of a few other agents who might be willing to take you on. I’ll print their information out for you right now, in fact.”

  “A few” wound up being exactly three, and two of those were not accepting new clients, no matter how much Katie begged, cajoled, and name-dropped. And the one agent she did manage to snag a meeting with gave her the creeps, staring at her with a lascivious leer and practically drooling as he inspected her face and body. She made a hasty retreat, knowing that even if it meant the end to her acting career there was no way she could ever work with such a slimy, disgusting man.

  And it was certainly beginning to look more and more that this was in fact the end. She had no agent, no job offers, no prospects for the immediate future, and, most significantly, no money with which to pay her mounting pile of bills. She had the rent to pay on her trendy but pricey Santa Monica beach bungalow, utilities, car insurance and gas, food, and health insurance. And those were just her basic living expenses. In addition, she had all of the various costs associated with being an aspiring actress - acting classes (which Doug had half-jokingly advised her to demand a refund for); a membership at one of L.A.‘s most popular gyms, plus private sessions with both a trainer and a Pilates instructor; keeping her wardrobe constantly updated so that she didn’t run the risk of - horrors! - being photographed wearing the same outfit twice; and all of the numerous beauty treatments required to keep herself looking beautiful and youthful - hair color and cuts, mani-pedis, teeth whitening, spray tans, facials.

  All of that cost a pretty penny, and pennies were awfully scarce these days. She was behind in several of her bills, and had been forced to cancel a recent appointment at the skin care salon because her credit cards were maxed out. She had just enough in her checking account to cover next month’s rent, and no income expected in whatsoever. She was broke and desperate and had no idea how to get herself out of this situation.

  So Katie did what she had always done when she needed something or couldn’t handle a situation by herself - she called home.

  Her mother sounded understandably surprised when she picked up the phone, given that it had been nearly two months since Katie had last been in touch. “Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

  Louise Carlisle’s greeting sounded unusually guarded to Katie, who was used to her mother’s normally enthusiastic response whenever she happened to call - which was normally infrequent. Katie guessed her mother was pissed off because it had been so long between phone calls, and knew she was going to have to lay the bullshit on extra thick this time.

  “Oh, Mom,” sniffled Katie in that little girl voice that had always got
ten her whatever her heart desired. “I’m just going through a bad patch is all. And I really needed to hear your voice. After all, if you can’t depend on your best friend when you’re down, who can you?”

  Always before Louise had been thrilled when her beautiful, popular daughter had referred to her as a “best friend”. Katie had pulled that particular little trick out of her hat on many occasions over the years when she’d needed something from her mother - most often her help in convincing Katie’s father to fork over money for something.

  But this time Louise seemed oddly unmoved by Katie’s tearful pleas. She listened without comment as Katie spun her tale of woe, giving Katie a distinct feeling of unease. She had always been able to count on her parents, had always known the security of both their financial and emotional support. Now, though, she sensed that something was different.

  Louise’s voice was flat, rather emotionless, and disapproving in response to her daughter’s tearful pleas. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to help you out this time, Katie. Your father and I are retired now, you know, and our budget is tighter these days.”

  Katie was shocked at this sort of response from the woman who had never hesitated to give her whatever she wanted. “But, Mom. What am I supposed to do?” she pleaded tearfully. “I’m trying every single day to get jobs, and I’ve cut way back on my expenses. I didn’t even have money to buy groceries this week. I’ve been living on saltine crackers and chicken noodle soup all week.”

  In truth, she’d ordered in sushi this evening that had set her back almost fifty dollars, but she had rationalized the expense away since there was enough food for tomorrow’s lunch as well.

  Louise paused for a moment, and Katie felt sure her mother would cave in. But all she said was, “You’d better discuss this with your father, Katie. He’s the one who handles our finances. Hang on a minute or so.”

  Rather than be dismayed by this development, Katie felt a sense of triumph. Her father had always tended to spoil her even more than her mother, and she was positive he would agree to bail her out one more time.

  But she was startled anew when John Carlisle announced in an unfamiliarly stern voice that he was finished bailing her out of these situations. And shocked speechless when he told her in no uncertain terms that she needed to forget these “foolish notions” of becoming an actress and move on with her life.

  “Do you have any idea how much money your mother and I have wasted over the years on your acting career?” asked John wearily. “Far more than enough to have put you through an Ivy League college, bought you a house of your own, and set up a trust fund for any children you might have someday. That’s a whole lot of money, Katherine Louise. And your mother and I worked far too hard for that money to keep frittering it away on acting lessons and designer clothes and whatever else you insist is necessary for this nonexistent career of yours.”

  Katie realized with a sinking heart that her father just wasn’t going to cave into her tears and pleas this time. When John started calling her by her full name, it was a definite sign that he meant business.

  “But, Daddy,” she whined. “What am I supposed to do? Can’t you just send me enough for a couple of months? I promise I’ll find some acting jobs by then.”

  Even, she thought in despair, if it meant crawling back to that sleazy agent and agreeing to whatever he suggested - up to and including sleeping with the disgusting bastard.

  “No.” John’s response was succinct and unmoving. “No more bailouts. No more loans that never get paid back. This is what’s going to happen next, Katherine Louise. You’re going to give notice on your apartment. Immediately. I’ll arrange to have your things moved up here and put in storage until you can afford a place of your own. Meanwhile, you can stay with us - on the condition that you either get a meaningful, full-time job, or go back to school. And not acting school, understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she mumbled.

  “All right then. Start packing up your things, and I’ll contact a moving company. No sense staying down there any longer than necessary. The sooner you’re back home the sooner you can start making plans for your future.” He paused, and when he resumed speaking his tone was kinder, gentler. “I know how much your acting career meant to you, honey, how you dreamed of little else ever since you were a child. But it’s time for you to grow up and face facts and put those dreams aside. Very, very few people actually succeed in show business, and you gave it a good try. Now you get to try something new.”

  “Like what?” Katie grumbled.

  “We’ll work on that, hmmm? You’re a bright girl, honey, and I know you can be successful. We just have to figure out what you’re best suited to. Not to mention,” he chided, “you aren’t getting any younger. Maybe you should consider settling down and starting a family soon. Your mother and I were brokenhearted when you split up with Dante. We thought for sure he was going to be our son-in-law, be the one to give us grandchildren. He was a great guy, Katie, one in a million. You’ll have a tough time finding a better man than he was.”

  After Katie bid her father good-bye, after grudgingly promising to email him as soon as she gave official notice to her landlord, she thought long and hard about his comments concerning Dante. She had always regretted having to hurt him the way she did, for he had in fact been a great guy, unquestionably the nicest guy she’d ever dated. He was also the hottest, best looking of her former boyfriends, and a fabulous lover - though at times he’d been a little too eager between the sheets, had wanted sex a little too often for her liking.

  And he was also stinking rich, owned a fleet of luxury cars and a posh penthouse condo. He’d always taken her to the very best restaurants and clubs, and had been incredibly generous with buying her things. Being the wife of such a man wouldn’t be such a bad thing, mused Katie, even if it meant giving up her lifelong dream of being an actress. Being Mrs. Dante Sabattini would be vastly preferable, for example, than working in some boring office or selling designer clothing to some snotty rich bitch or going back to any sort of school.

  It wouldn’t be easy, of course, mused Katie. She’d hurt him badly, and he had been furious when he’d walked out on her that night. She would have to carefully consider the best way and time to approach him, and, more importantly, would have to deliver the acting performance of her life to convince him of her regret in ending their relationship.

  A sudden recollection propelled Katie to begin sifting through a growing pile of mail that she hadn’t bothered to do anything with as yet. She pulled out the thick cream colored envelope she’d been searching for, then withdrew the engraved invitation and response card. She was relieved to note that three more days remained until RSVPs were due - not that such a trivial detail would have bothered Katie,

  The invitation was to the wedding of a close friend of Katie’s, whose intended groom just happened to be one of Dante’s numerous cousins. It had been at the couples’ engagement party about eighteen months ago, in fact, where Katie had first met Dante. And it went without saying that someone as close to his family as Dante was wouldn’t dream of missing his cousin’s wedding.

  Katie had planned to send her regrets, having little to no interest in attending something as boring as a little country wedding. But now, under the circumstances she found herself in, she had a definite interest in attending.

  As she marked the response card with a yes, she just hoped Dante wasn’t planning on bringing a date to the wedding. A date would be a complication she definitely didn’t need - considering that she already had her work cut out for her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Time for you to be heading home, isn’t it?”

  Cara glanced up at the sound of her boss’ voice, smiling up at Angela as she stood on the other side of her desk. “Just about, yes. I have a couple of quick things to finish up and then I’ll be on my way. You look like you’re all ready to leave.”

  Angela nodded, adjusting the strap of her laptop
bag more securely on her shoulder. “Just waiting for Nick to finish up a call, and then we’re going out to dinner. My race starts at six-thirty in the morning down near San Jose, so we need to make an early night of it.”

  Cara grinned up at her tall, ultra-slender boss. Even though Angela had put a good amount of weight back on her previously skinny frame, she was still a little too much on the lean side - even with Cara doing her utmost to shove snacks in front of her face and Nick outright nagging her to eat more. Cara suspected the long miles Angela still insisted on running every week burned off more calories than she could consume.

  “How long is this race - like, fifty miles or something?” teased Cara.

  Angela smiled, something she’d done a lot more of since moving in with Nick almost a year ago. “No,” she sighed. “Just a half-marathon is all. After that accident I had during a trail race last year, Nick made me promise to keep the mileage to something more reasonable. Though I’m planning to run a full marathon this fall up in the Sierras.” She held up a finger to her lips and winked. “Shh. That’s our little secret, okay?”

  Cara gave Angela a thumbs-up. “Of course. Even though I can’t pretend to understand this obsession you have with running. Though judging how slim you are and how chubby I am, maybe I ought to consider taking it up myself.”

  Angela’s smile was swiftly replaced with a scowl. “Hey, knock it off, Cara. You are not chubby. I tell you that every time you try and diss the way you look. And between your job here and going to night school and studying, I have no idea how you’d find the time to begin a running program anyway.”

  “Well, I need to do something,” groused Cara. “And soon. I’ve never felt this out of shape in my life. I really miss my old dance classes. Doing tap or jazz dance for an hour or so was great exercise. But it’s hard to find adult classes, especially ones that sync with my schedule.”

  “You could try yoga,” offered Angela helpfully. “I mean, it’s definitely not my thing, but my friend Julia goes to class almost every day of the week. She goes to a studio on Divisadero Street, and I know one of her teachers. Sasha supposedly has some real kick-ass class on the weekends. I can ask Julia more about it if you’d like.”