Free Lucid by Adrienne Stoltz, Ron Bass Page A

scare you, it sure scares me. But I hate the game of pretending I’m not really interested. Like you say, all the bullshit we all live through every day.” At this point,
I
must have been the one to look nervous because he adds, “I swear to God that nothing about any of this will affect your chances in the slightest.”
    The first bullshit. Even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He just rang a bell that can’t be unrung, and my response will not only affect my chances, it well might determine them completely. I’ve been here before, though never with stakes like these. Still, I made my rule on this long ago and promised myself I would never reevaluate it on the spot or on impulse. The rule is to only respond with complete honesty about the personal side of it, with no business considerations whatsoever.
    “Okay, I’ll be honest too,” I say. “You’re obviously very attractive. I’d like to get to know
you
. But I’m not at all interested in casual dating. I only want to be with someone I care about right now. And that takes time.” I know that what I’m saying is totally dorky, but I barrel on. “Truthfully, with me, considerable time. If all that is something you’re really comfortable with, I’d like to know you better.”
    He stares in my eyes, and I try hard not to blush. I feel really nervous and a little excited.
    “Are you free for dinner Saturday night?” he asks.
    “It’s my birthday,” I say, instead of answering.
    “Thank God, fourteen at last!” And I laugh. He says he has abusiness thing and can’t pick me up until eight thirty, but if that was okay, he would be “so honored” to have dinner with me on my birthday.
    For the next hour we talk about business. He makes several strategic suggestions, including a way for us to encounter Rosalie socially, that he might never have made without my having agreed to a dinner date. He also talks about a pilot and two films that he is involved in casting and how I might be considered for roles. I have an idealistic heart, but it’s latched to a practical mind. As I listen to Thomas, I have to put aside my illusions about the ideal platonic relationship between casting agent/mentor and little me. If he doesn’t want what he wants already (and he does), he’s going to eventually. And I’d better start thinking about how I’m going to feel about that.
    The problem is that I don’t know.
    The other problem is, I’ve been thinking about this for so long that I’ve lost track of what he’s talking about, and since I’ve been doing that actress audition thing of looking deeply into his eyes and leaning slightly forward, I’m in trouble.
    “So what do you think?” he asks. How convenient.
    “Actually, I’m torn.” Please fill in the blanks. Please. Please.
    “Well, it’s more a basic career choice.”
    “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Two roads diverge in a yellow wood and all that. But which path to take?”
    “My advice is, follow your instincts.”
    “Thank you. My instinct is to take your advice.”
    Boy, he loves that. He changes the subject (to something else I’m not following) and I never do find out what I was coveringmy butt about. Before I can decide whether he’s a letch in sheep’s clothing or the future father of my future children, he stands up. So I do too.
    He kisses me on both cheeks, asks if he can drop me, and when I tell him I’m good, he actually says, “A lot better than good.” Ugh. Okay, nobody’s perfect.
    When he offers to put me in a cab, I suppress the instinct to say that it’s only a couple of blocks and I can walk, for fear that he would walk me home and try to kiss me or something. Or something. So I get in the cab, go around the block, overtip out of guilt. And go to bed thinking about him.
    Unfortunately, I know I won’t be able to dream about him.

CHAPTER SIX
sloane
    I was so distracted this morning I forgot my lunch, so I’m destined to try to digest this slimy-looking cafeteria