SLEAZE: A Hollywood Comeback Story (Book #1)

Chapter 16

“Eavesdropper, huh?” I wondered if she’d heard what I’d said about my dad but then decided it didn’t matter.

“No, I’m not,” she protested. “But you were yelling, I couldn’t help it.”

“Soph,” I said, flattening on my belly as I tried for the second time to reach into the far recesses beneath my bed. Nothing. Giving up, I started to get to my feet. “Listen, I--”

Crunch.

“Dammit,” I muttered, bending down to pick up what I was sure would be my fifth pair of broken glasses. To my surprise, the glass had remained intact so I put them on, checking to see how they looked in the mirror above my dresser. I guffawed; the glass may not have snapped, but my weight had warped the temple arms so that the frame rested on my face diagonally.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, one second,” I said, taking the pair off again and trying to straighten the metal bends. I’d nearly fixed the pad plate when a screw from one of the hinges wiggled its way out, landing in my hand. Shaking my head, I tossed the glasses along with the miniature bolt into a drawer before sitting back down on my bed. “Anyway, Sophie, what I was saying is that I talked to my parents after work and they’re pretty amped on you coming. My mom’s probably putting together an activity itinerary as we speak.”

Sophie laughed hesitantly. “I don’t want to ruin your Christmas.”

“You won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay then.”

“Anything else?” I asked, beginning to undress while I balanced the phone between my chin and shoulder. Suddenly annoyed by the clothing that littered my floor, I got up again to stuff my pants and button-up into the rarely used hamper inside my closet. A moth fluttered by my ear as I opened the lid and I watched its dusty wings flutter towards the light of my lamp. The insect’s carcass silently dropped to the tabletop below moments later. 

“Should I bring anything?”

“Like what? Your juicing machine? A yoga mat?” I teased, grabbing my trashcan from the connecting bathroom and brushing the dead bug into it. I could almost picture her scowl on the other end of the line and I smiled to myself.

“Why are you always so mean to me?” she demanded, her tone both joking and serious.

“I was kidding,” I said, not bothering to return the waste bin to its proper place before snagging a pair of sweatpants from the ground.

“Yeah, right. Whatever, I’ve got to go. My quinoa pods opened, like, three minutes ago.”

“Sounds disgusting,” I said, hopping on one foot as I pulled the thick, cotton bottoms on. She laughed.

“Bye, Parker.”

“Peace.”

I hung up and sighed. I knew that there was no way I’d fall asleep again any time soon so I headed to the kitchen, warming up a plate of leftovers before plopping down on my living room couch where my laptop waited. Alternating between stuffing my face with a reheated Philly cheesesteak sandwich and frantically typing up dialogue for my screenplay proved to be a challenge and I ended up scraping several pieces of meat from between the letters of my keyboard. I worked throughout the night, ideas springing to my mind faster than I could get them down.

By three in the morning my fingers had slowed and I drifted off where I sat, content with the leather cushions serving as my bed for one night. As I dreamt, I transformed into a giant nutcracker, while visions of Sophie the Sugar Plum Fairy and Michael the Mouse King danced through my head.