Still smiling he said, “Yes, I’m aware of that, Elly. I was thinking about it, actually, and as much as I’d like you to accept my offer, I wouldn’t want to impede your education. I do know that USC offers some of the classes online. I don’t know what you have left to do, but that may be an option if you’d be interested in going on the road with us.”
“I would, yes. Wow…I’m sorry. I’m just so blown away by the offer.”
He laughed and said, “Get used to it. Something about you makes me think that you’re going to go far in this town. That means a lot of good offers are yet to be had. Just keep that level head on your shoulders and don’t let this business ruin you, okay?”
“Absolutely,” I said. I could feel myself grinning so wide that my cheeks actually hurt.
Jake left to catch his flight and he didn’t ask me for a single thing in return for his kindness. In spite of all I had already been through at my age, I still liked to believe that people are basically good at heart.
* * *
The next eight weeks flew by. I finished my summer class and I got an A in spite of losing my focus and not studying much there for a while. I enrolled in the online course for the fall, just in case, and I didn’t see or hear from Tristan, which was a blessing. I was so over him, and my only regret about work starting back up would be that I’d have to lay eyes on him again. I wasn’t afraid I’d give in again; he had humiliated me enough that I could firmly say that I didn’t want anything to do with him.
I got a big paycheck from the first rounds, and I paid off some bills and bought some new, professional clothes; things were looking up.
We had a meeting scheduled for the day after the crew got back and the day before we re-started production in L.A. I got there early and hung out with Molly and Keith and got caught up on what had happened on the road.
“So Lena’s gone,” Molly told me.
“Lena, the stage manager, Lena?” I asked.
“Yep, the one who was married to Bob, the run crew manager.”
“She was married too? Jeez, you guys were only on the road for eight weeks. What happened?”
“She got fired for screwing one of the contestants,” Keith said.
“Oh my god, are you serious?” My chest suddenly felt tight and I was afraid I was going to have to explain why I suddenly had an anxiety attack.
“Well, that was the rumor anyways. No one actually saw them together, so who knows what the truth really is,” Molly said, shrugging.
“If they didn’t have a pretty good idea it was true, they couldn’t have fired her over it though, right?” I asked.
“Bob caught them making out in his RV in the set parking lot in Cincinnati. He wasn’t going to say anything at first, I guess, but then she started telling him that she wanted a divorce and she was in love with this other guy. She’s thirty-two and the guy is nineteen. The whole thing is crazy. Anyways, Clint and Jake met privately with the kid and he apparently confessed to the whole thing.”
“Wow,” I said, running through how many awful ways they could find out I’d slept with Tristan in my head.
“Aw, don’t look so depressed,” Molly told me. “I’m sure there will be plenty of scandal right here in L.A. Other than that, you didn’t miss a thing. The travel was grueling and we didn’t get to see any sights other than the inside of a warehouse or hotel conference room and Diva was in a bitchy mood the whole time, reaming out the entire crew.”
I forced a smile and said, “Glad I missed it then, but it’s good to be back to work.”
Clint and his assistant filed in and he called the meeting to order. Without mentioning names or job titles, like Molly and Keith had, he went over what they’d just told me. I saw poor Bob slump in his chair as if he was trying to make himself invisible. Clint emphasized the fact that one contestant had forfeited his chance at all the cash and fame and the employee had basically forfeited her career. Hollywood was a harsh place. If you were an actress or actor or even a model, one of the pretty people, you could get away with a lot; those of us behind the scenes, however, not so much. Once you were blackballed, you would play hell getting another production job in L.A.
Clint wrapped up the meeting and then we were in a scramble to get things ready for the final rounds. The first one that day was at ten, or as soon as the judges decided to shuffle in. The bad thing about being back in L.A. was that all three of them lived there; getting them out of a hotel room was much less trouble than prying them away from their mansions.
It was after eleven before Diva showed up. The other two judges were fit to be tied and talking all kinds of smack about her before she got there. As soon as she arrived however, everyone was back to kissing her ass. I guess some women were just born with that quality.
The good news was that things ran different for the final rounds. I’d be in the conference room with Molly, lining up the contestants from one through twenty-four. I told Molly I’d work the front of the line, since I checked and saw that Tristan had drawn number twenty-three. She was working the area where they were seated, sending them to me up front two at a time. I saw Tristan in the back and the way he was looking at me, like a wolf at a lamb, I was happy Molly was there. Even Tristan wouldn’t be stupid enough to do or say something that could put us both in jeopardy…I hoped.
The contestant’s got to sing a full three-four minute song that day, and the whole show was being filmed and would be fed out a few hours from now as being live. Later on, when we got down to twelve, it would actually be live. In the meantime, we would take advantage of the three-hour cushion between the East Coast and the West. Because of all of that, things were moving excruciatingly slow.
The contestants were served lunch and there was a table in the back laden with snacks and drinks for them to take at their leisure. It was for us, too, and I was dying for something to drink, but Tristan was next to the table. When he wasn’t madly texting on his phone, he was strumming his guitar and staring at me. I wondered what he was thinking; I couldn’t help myself. He didn’t smile or wave, he wasn’t glaring or looking angry—he was just looking at me. I didn’t want to walk over there and make him think I was in any way interested in talking to him.
He looked really good that day though. I guess either his agent helped him decide what to wear, or his brain wasn’t quite as muddled as I had thought. He had on a pair of nice designer jeans that were just mildly faded to give them a gently worn look. He wore a light blue t-shirt, and over the top of that, he wore a light-blue and tan plaid button-up that was left open down the front. I was surprised to see that he’d also worn that silver cross he used to wear all of those years ago. He’d gotten a haircut, and it was actually styled, and he was clean shaven. His dark eyes still didn’t have a real clear look to them, but he at least looked like a well-groomed stoner. I was personally wishing he’d shown up looking like shit. It would have gone far in cementing my decision to stay far away from him.
The room was clearing out by late afternoon and I took the opportunity when Tristan got up to use the bathroom to run over and grab a water and granola bar. There were only three contestants left besides him, two that would go before, and one after. The rest of the contestants had been set free for the rest of the day and would be back first thing in the morning for an elimination round.
I realized after I sent number twenty-two out that I was holding my breath. I really hoped that he just stood up there like the rest of them had, waiting his turn like a normal human. I should have known that Tristan acting like a normal human was a completely abstract concept. What he did when I called out his number was stroll up next to me like he was god’s gift to the world. I kept my eyes pointed out towards the stage, pretending that I was too busy to notice him. A normal person may have taken the hint, but not Tristan.
Tristan threw his arm around my shoulders and when I looked at him in shock he said, “Hey sexy,” with a grin.
I heard Molly clear her throat before I even had time to react.
I threw his arm off of me and glared at him. The son of a bitch was still smiling. I’d almost missed that number twenty-two was finished and walking off the stage until Tristan asked, in a low, raspy voice, “How about a good luck kiss?”
I had my mouth opened to tell him that he’d lost his fucking mind when he stepped in, put his hand on my hip and kissed me full on the mouth. Then he casually turned and strolled out onto the stage, guitar in hand. I stood there for a few seconds, trying to process what the hell had just happened. I could feel Molly’s eyes boring into me from behind. I turned around slowly and with the best “What the Fuck?” look I could muster I shrugged my shoulders.
I didn’t really know Molly well enough yet to discern what the look on her face meant, but my anxiety riddled brain interpreted it as shock and disgust. I wanted to fade to black.
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