Free Feast of Saints by Zoe Wildau Page B

finally decided that her inability to connect with Jake’s character might be a self-defense mechanism. As good as she was at imagining horrible characters and bringing them to life, she didn’t like them, and she certainly did not like the sleepless nights she spent running away from her nightmare Jake.
    As she walked Greg to the door, he said he would pick up her and her portfolio at two-thirty the following afternoon. The meeting was to take place at the Culver Hotel, a fifteen-minute drive from her bungalow.
    On the porch, Greg turned to her and hugged her tightly.
    “Lilly, it’s good. And scary.” Holding her at arm’s length, he said, “You’re going to knock ’em dead.”
    “Thanks.” She suddenly choked up, overcome by gratitude at having such a wonderful friend.
    Half-joking to cover her emotion, she started to say, “Don’t forget to bring a hat,” but Greg was no longer looking at her. His head had nearly twisted off to get a better look at the silver sports car that zoomed down her street.
    “Wow, that’s a McLaren!”
    Lilly turned to see what had so forcefully grabbed his attention.
    “A McWhat?”
    “It’s the fastest road car in the world. And it costs a million bucks,” Greg enthused.
    She stared after the fast retreating car. It looked an awful lot like the car Jake had parked in front of his house when she’d gone there for the lifecasting session. But that couldn’t be, could it? Still, how many million-dollar sports cars are there in this town? Maybe quite a few. It was LA after all.
    When Greg showed up the following afternoon to give her a ride to Culver City, Lilly was ready, waiting and nervous as hell. She had not yet met Monty but had met his chief Assistant Director, or “AD”, Alison Chervik. Lilly had participated in two crew meetings at the studio run by Alison, who talked a mile a minute. Blunt, crude and quick with a bruising putdown, Alison reminded her of a female Ari Gold from the hit HBO drama, Entourage . Trendy LA action phrases and industry acronyms spewed out from her mouth.
    Halfway through the first meeting with Alison, Lilly’s head was spinning. Turning to Bryce, who she was delighted to find at the start of the meeting had been hired on to the film, she asked, “What’s she saying? Is she speaking English?”
    Just then, Alison’s laser gaze zeroed in on Lilly.
    “And finally, for you newbies,” Alison blasted, “if you’re not already registered with your union, sign up at one of the tables in the lobby before you leave here today. I don’t care if you’re SAG, PGA or ADG, read the bylines and follow them. If I get a whiff of guild discord on this pic, I’ll push you right back up your mommas.”
    Lilly fervently hoped Alison was not going to be at the Culver City meeting.
    Greg, ever the gentleman, met her at the door and took the oversized black portfolio case from her and carried it out to the Astro.
    Sitting at a stoplight halfway to Culver City, Greg looked over at her appraisingly.
    “You look really pretty. Kinda hot, too, Peanut,” he said.
    Lilly had bought a new dress for the meeting and she thought she’d struck the right note between professional and artsy in the muted gray silk, square-necked shift dress, with a wide belt of the same fabric. The red-trimmed five inch snakeskin Suecomma Bonnie’s that had arrived on her doorstep from Busan two days ago added a spice of style to the otherwise austere dress.
    “Thanks,” she said, grateful for anything to boost her confidence. Rubbing her damp palms together, she asked, “Got any more good advice?”
    “I’m always full of good advice. For starters, I think you look too nice to wear this stupid hat,” he said, reaching in the back seat and dropping the camo Get-A-Grip ball cap in her lap.
    She looked at it ruefully. “I said I would, and I will. I’m a woman of my word.”
    Popping it on her head, she looked at him, pursing her lips.
    “Gimme that!” Greg whipped it off