Author’s note: Two paragraphs moved from this chapter to the end of Chapter 10 for those that read it at release. 

“So you wanna be an actress,” said the unfathomably beautiful blonde woman in front of me. She spoke quickly, with an accent I couldn’t place, and clipped the ends off of some of her words. 

I nodded. “Yes, I-”

She cut me off. “Listen, you ain’t shit here. Everyone in Bel-Air wants to be an actress, got it? We’ve all been scraping through auditions for years. You may’ve been hot in whatever little shithole you crawled out of, but Hollywood is tough, kid. You’re a seven at best in a world full of tens. You ain’t got what it takes.”

I blinked at the flurry of harsh words. I’d never been spoken to like that. Even the time I had accidentally touched fenders with a Miata hadn’t been so rough. “Look,” I read her little name tag, “Emma… I’m not trying to be in movies or anything. I just need to learn how to be more like you.” I gestured at her, trying to emphasize that I meant her specifically.

“Ain’t nobody wants to be like me,” Emma said. “Don’t lie to me. You came here wanting to be a star. No bullshit, kid. I can smell bullshit a mile away. You think teaching acting classes for losers like you is what I wanted when I came out here? Ha. I wanted to be a star, same as you.”

“Please,” I said. “Look at me. I don’t know how to do anything. My hair. All the skin products. What to wear. How to be. Can’t you just show me?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Kid, I don’t have time to be your mommy. Why don’t you go back to the farm? I’m not gonna be your life coach.” She started to turn away. 

“I have money,” I pleaded desperately, pulling out my wad of tips from the night before and the cash that was already in my assorted-item-bag. Over five-hundred dollars, which felt like an insane sum, but I was feeling reckless. I needed her. Samantha wouldn’t take me seriously like this. The girl in the hall already thought I had a screw loose. How long before someone realized that I was a truck wearing a skin-suit, destined to fail at two lives in a row?

The blonde turned back to me, raising an immaculate eyebrow at the pile of cash as she reached out and took it. She pursed her lips as she locked eyes with mine. “Shit,” she muttered, and the money disappeared from her hands faster than I could have believed. “For that kinda money, I’ll be your stylist, kid. But you gotta learn quick, cause I ain’t doin’ this for long, no matter how much you’re offering. What’s your name?”

A wave of relief flooded over me. “My name is Red, and-”

“Is this how you normally go out?” Emma asked, cutting me off again. 

I shrugged uneasily, unable to answer that. I’d only been a girl for two days, and Samantha had literally drug me through my routine the day before.

“Fuck me,” she muttered. “Your face is okay and you got the tits, but fuck. What’s going on with that hair? Those clothes? No makeup? And you smell like the soap aisle at Target.”

Silence again. I didn’t want to get chewed out any more than I had to.

“Whew,” she breathed, standing and walking to the door. She walked to the door and grabbed the sign hanging there and turned it from ‘Closed’ to ‘Acting Lessons: Inquire Within’. Pushing the door open, she turned to me. “Come on,” she said, waving me outside.

I followed her out into the bright sunshine. “Where are we going?” I asked.

Emma pulled a ring of keys from her bag and locked the door behind us. “Your place,” she said. “I’m not buying all new self-care shit for you, so we’ll work with what you got.” She turned back towards me. “Where’s your ride?”

“Neat trick with the sign,” I replied, nodding at it. Reversible to show when a business was open or not. I wondered if Larry had such a thing for Pizza Planet. 

The other girl stared at me blankly. “Have… have you never seen an open and close sign before? Where are you from? I was only joking about going back to the farm, but now I’m actually curious.”

Great, I thought, resolving to keep my mouth closed around Emma. It seemed I was destined to give my lack of humanity up to everyone today. “My car is right over here,” I pointed, ignoring her question. At least my gorgeous Camaro couldn’t possibly provoke questions.

Wrong again.

Emma’s eyes followed my finger over to the Camaro and her eyes widened. “That’s your car? I was half-expecting a tractor.”

While I had no problem with tractors - they were sturdy, hardworking, and as American as apple pie - I knew a vehicular insult when I heard one. “It’s mine,” I growled, showing the first signs of frustration since I’d met Emma. If I wasn’t so desperate to impress Samantha tonight, I’d have taken my money and left. But the truth was that I didn’t have that long and I couldn’t afford to go looking for another actor that was both available and willing to help me out on such short notice. 

Thankfully, we were leaving her area of expertise… and entering mine.

“Get in,” I said, hopping in the driver’s seat. We were going to make it back to my place in record time.

Emma only smiled as she climbed into the Camaro, crossing her legs just above the knee. She set her bag down beside her feet. I made note of both things, determined to keep track of her every move today. Even things as simple as how to sit might help me avoid a social faux pas that I knew nothing about. 

I started the car and revved the engine a little, listening to her purr for just a moment. Then I slapped the car into reverse, jamming my foot on the accelerator as we leapt backwards. I shifted to neutral, spinning the wheel to the left as the car began to turn. Partway through the turn, I jammed down on the break for a moment, car skidding around sideways as we spun in a half-circle, facing back towards the road. I heard a gasp from beside me, but before Emma could say anything, I hit the gas again as the Camaro leapt into the street.

“Fucking hell, Red,” Emma yelped, one hand on the dash and the other holding onto the door handle for dear life.

Definitely not a tractor, I thought, with no small amount of satisfaction.