Read Online The Year of Living Famously by Laura Caldwell - Free Book Online Page B

nice.
    I started to hold out my hand, but the woman barely looked at me and charged on. “Look,” she said, “I hate to interrupt you, but I was just wondering if I could send you my head shots and some tapes. I’m on a reality show, you know The Rat Race? I’m one of the few people left, right? But I want to bridge from this into acting. That’s where my true passion lies…”
    She went on and on until Bobby sat up a little and raised his hand. “Rachel, was it?”
    She nodded.
    â€œI’m sorry, but I’m not accepting new clients right now.”
    Her smile dimmed. “Okay, well, I’ll just send you the head shots anyway, just in case—”
    â€œRachel, I’m sorry,” Bobby said. “They’ll just get thrown away. Best of luck.”
    Rachel Tagliateri ran her hands through her cherry-cola hair and said, “Right. Great, thanks!” as if Bobby had just offered to take her to dinner.
    â€œThat was rude,” I said when she was gone. I watched her walk to a group of women and point to Bobby and me.
    Bobby sighed. “Are you kidding? That was nice. I let her go on about that ridiculous reality show, as if she’s ever going to get an acting job after that. She’ll work for scale for the rest of her life.”
    â€œWhy couldn’t you at least talk to her, maybe give her some advice?”
    â€œBecause if I did that, I would have to do it twenty-four hours a day. Everyone is looking to get connected, Kyr. You have to know when to put your foot down.”
    I made a face to show I didn’t agree and sipped my martini. I felt some kind of kinship with the cherry-cola Rachel, because although I wasn’t trying to be “in the business,” I was new in this town, and I already sensed how hard it was to break in, in any capacity.
    But I soon saw what Bobby meant. Within fifteen minutes, one of Cherry-Cola’s gang came to our table and introduced herself.
    â€œOlivia Tenson,” she said. “I’m on The Bold and the Beautiful. I’m looking for new representation.” She got a little more of Bobby’s attention, but he soon sent her packing. Same with the stunningly beautiful boy with the jet-black hair and the dimples as deep as craters. Same with the comedian who sidled up to us and launched into his stand-up act.
    â€œYou see why I’m so glad you’re here?” Bobby said. “You’re my one true friend in town.”
    So I figured when I phoned Bobby that day from Fred Segal that he would call me back, maybe come meet me, but his assistant, Sean, said he was in a meeting that would last a few hours. I finished my wine and watched the rest of the patrons gossip with their friends or yammer into their phones. I made my daily phone call back to New York, but couldn’t get Emmie, Margaux or Darcy.
    Finally, I left, strolling aimlessly, nothing planned for the rest of the day. I walked through Third Street Promenade and then down the Santa Monica pier. I waited for L. A. to seep into my bones.
    Â 
    When Declan got home that afternoon, we took a walk on the beach, making our way to the pier for sunset.
    â€œWhat did you do today?” he said. He was always concerned about whether I was “fitting in,” whether I’d had enough activity. Every evening, he peppered me with questions and made suggestions about what I could do that week.
    I told him about my day.
    â€œAre you having me on?” he said. “You walked to Fred Segal?”
    â€œIt’s only a mile or two.”
    â€œBloody right. I can’t believe you walked.”
    â€œYou know how I feel about all the driving out here.”
    In short, I wasn’t a big fan. Constant driving was required, since L. A. is really just a string of suburbs, not a city at all, and yet the need to drive everywhere killed any chance of spontaneity. Even if you were lucky to be with friends, and have someone