Free Vamparazzi by Laura Resnick

(who wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of me portraying a homeless bisexual junkie prostitute on national TV) had hoped for, which was that they would pay me but never air the episode.
    â€œStop brooding and stand up so I can lace you up,” Leischneudel said as he rose from the makeup table.
    He was right. I was brooding. Two men not calling me—even though, I reminded myself, I didn’t want one of them to call—was too disheartening. One way or the other, I needed to resolve my fear that Thack no longer wanted me as a client.
    He was a young agent who had a respectable client list and was rising in his profession. Although he was flamboyant in an uptown yuppie way, he was originally from a middle-class family in Wisconsin, like me. He was also hardworking and polite, which I had so far found to be rare qualities in New York theatrical agents.
    I would be sorry to lose him; but if that’s what was on the horizon, then I wanted to get it over with rather than fretting about it any longer.
    â€œI’m going to call him again,” I said with determination. “He needs to commit to seeing the show or else he needs to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t keep chasing my tail about this.”
    â€œGood,” my companion said with approval.
    â€œWhere’s your cell? I don’t want to risk going back to my dressing room now.”
    Leischneudel didn’t bother to ask why. Although he and Mad Rachel were believable onstage together as innocent young lovers, when they were offstage, Leischneudel avoided her at all costs.
    He pulled his phone out of his daypack, handed it to me, and started doing up the back of my gown while I dialed Thack’s cell phone number.
    It occurred to me that when Thack saw an unfamiliar number on his phone’s LCD screen, rather than mine, he might actually answer, instead of letting the call go to voice mail ... And I was right.
    â€œHello?” he said after the third ring.
    â€œThack, this is Esther Diamond. When are you coming to see The Vampyre? ” I said in a rush.
    â€œEsther?” He sounded surprised. And not thrilled. “Uh . . .”
    â€œWe only have two weeks left. When shall I reserve your seat?”
    â€œI thought every performance was sold out,” he prevaricated. “The show’s a hot ticket. I heard some of the scalpers are getting three hundred dollars per seat.”
    â€œFor this show?” I blurted. “The vamparazzi really are crazy.”
    â€œThe who?”
    â€œNever mind. When are you coming?”
    â€œOh, I don’t see how you could even get me in, if—”
    â€œI can get you in,” I said firmly. “Daemon’s contract allows him access to a couple of VIP seats for any performance. I’ll make him give one to me.” I figured Daemon owed me for my black eye. “How about tomorrow?”
    â€œWell, er, I don’t have my calendar with me, so I’m not sure . . .”
    â€œLook, if you don’t want me as a client anymore, just say so!”
    In the silence that followed, I realized this was a tad more confrontational than I had intended.
    Then he said, “What?”
    In for a penny, in for a pound. “Is that why you’re not coming to the show? Because you’re getting ready to dump me?”
    â€œDump you?”
    â€œIf that’s the case, I’d rather you just tell me right now, in a straightforward way.”
    â€œ Dump you?” he repeated, sounding aghast.
    His tone opened the door on a tiny glimmer of relief.
    â€œOh, my God,” he said. “Is that what you’ve been thinking? That I was planning to . . .” He sighed, then said heavily, “Actors.”
    Leischneudel gave a final tug as he finished fastening my gown, then circled me to meet my gaze as I said hesitantly into the phone, “So you’re not planning to drop me?”
    Leischneudel smiled and gave me a