"What can I say? People like to watch. If they're willing to pay, why not let them?"
. . .
Margeaux is a bad girl with good girl intentions. All she wants is a steady home with whatever family she has left. With no GED, no credit, and no bed to slee...
A/N: The following chapter contains references to drug use. At the time of this chapter's upload, the recreational consumption of cannabis is legal in the state of California for persons over the age of 21.
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"You did this! Not me!" Jamie yells, tears in his eyes. "You lied, you cheated, then you left—yet this is my fault? I didn't ruin us. You did."
I stare at him, so impressed by his ability to make me emotional with someone else's words. He gestures at me for the line. "Oh! Uh ..." I look down at the script. "I didn't leave," I read flatly. "You wanted to stay, so you did, then you blame me for everything like you're some kind of victim ..." I could never be an actor.
Jamie shakes his head. A tear slips from his eye and he wipes it away. My vision blurs with tears of my own. "You'll never admit it, will you?" A laugh of disdain. "I'm done letting you gaslight me. I'm done with you." He walks away, then stops with a deep breath. Turning back, he shakes out his hands on an exhale and dries his tears. "How was that?" he asks me.
"That was so good," I cry with him.
"Stop. I know it's still missing something." He wipes his cheeks again. "What was it?"
"It was perfect, Jamie. You're hurt, he brushes you off, and ... I'm fucking crying."
"No notes?"
"No notes."
"Okay." He takes the script from me and looks at it again, his fingers stroking against his chin as he thinks.
"Hey," I call his attention. "These scenes are really heavy. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
"I know you were worried about it affecting you if you got in too deep, but you always get in dee—okay, that's not supposed to sound like a sex joke."
"Sure it's not." He smirks. "But I'll be fine."
"You have about a week of this left and—"
"Fuck, we gotta go. We're late."
I look at my watch and see he's right. "Oh, shit!"
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I have been in full assistant mode all morning. On shoot days, it's all prep, then all wait. I got Jamie where he needed to be, watched his social media, promos, and mentions, and made sure he ate. By the time he was due on set, I felt like I needed a nap.
Sitting on the steps behind the studio, I watch the other assistants zip back and forth in their golf carts while I savor a cheese sandwich and bougie La Croix. I still don't understand why people like these things. It tastes like fizzy tap water poured into a glass that used to have juice in it. My tastes haven't caught up to Hollywood standards.
As I zone out in my thoughts, a tall figure appears next to me. "Hey, Gabe."
I look at him while he sits, watching that smile spread across his face. "Enjoying your sandwich? You've been staring at it for a minute straight."
