Fat Chance Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t sound sexy, you sound like you’re having an asthma attack.”
    There’s a silence, and just as I’m about to hang up I hear the voice.
    â€œMaggie? I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t a bad time…. I’m, this is Mike Taylor, I’m an actor in Los Angeles. I don’t know if someone from the studio ever reached you or not, but I’m about to start working on a new movie here, and that’s why I’m calling. I need your help.”
    My eyes open wide, then wider. An alarm goes off deep inside my head. Not Alan Barsky. Not Alan Barsky. He wasn’t that good. It was… My skin starts to prickle. It did sound like him. Oh God, I am such a complete moron.
    â€œSorry…SO-ORRY…just fooling around here….” I clear my throat. “I…I know who you are…” I say, trying to conceal a certain shakiness that’s starting to spread over me like a violent onset of the flu. Who could ever forget his rippled abs on that Calvin Klein underwear billboard in Times Square!
    â€œOh, okay, well, I thought I’d try you myself because…anyway…I’m going to be starring in a new movie about a diet doctor, and I’m so out of my element with this. I wondered if there was any way that you could help me out.”
    The Mother Teresa of journalism to the rescue …. Oh…whatEVER you need . But I say nothing, half out of fear of saying the wrong thing, the other half because I’m afraid that if I hear my own voice, I’ll wake up and the dream will be over.
    â€œMaggie? You there?”
    â€œYes…I… Sorry, I’m in…I got distracted for a minute—”
    â€œOh, well, anyway, I wondered if there was any way you might be able to come out to L.A. for a couple of weeks?”
    â€œWeeks? A couple of weeks?” What the hell is happening to me, echolalia?
    â€œI know you’re working, but we could get you a suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel. There are amazing restaurants here—you could take lots of time for yourself and—”
    â€œI don’t think I could just—”
    â€œWell, we could make some other arrangement if you don’t like it there… L’Hermitage or… I mean, you could even stay here if you’d be more comfortable. I have a pretty big place—you could have your own wing—there’s an office…and I have a great kitchen. You could make my place home base, and just give me some coaching—you know, background stuff—on the way overweight women think, and how they’d react to me. I usually spend a couple of months preparing for a role, and it would be a tremendous favor if—”
    â€œI…I don’t know—”
    â€œI realize that it’s not easy to just get up and leave—”
    â€œNo, but—”
    â€œDon’t answer now, just think about it.”
    â€œWell—”
    â€œWe would pay all your expenses, and a consulting fee. The studio is usually pretty generous, I’m sure we could work something out so that at least financially it would be worth your while. Just consider it, okay?”
    â€œMaybe, maybe, Mike,” I say, coiling a strand of hair around my finger like a tourniquet. “Can I get back to you?”
    â€œSure, sure, Maggie. This is great. I’m thrilled that you’ll even think of helping me.” Then his rich voice turns softer, intime. Caressing. And by God, it’s working wonders.
    â€œHonestly, people out here really look up to you, you know? This is a crazy town, everybody’s into some diet routine or other, nobody’s happy with themselves the way they are. That’s why it would be so helpful if I could hear your take on it all.”
    There are other experts—I can rattle off a dozen names off the top of my head. Bloated, academic types, but they knew the stuff, they could fill him in. Or he could read my clips. The