Let's Stay Together Read Online Free PDF Page A

might be the angle I use. Big star live onstage with his ex. What might she say? What might they argue about? Yes, it has possibilities.”
    Todd is so dramatic. “Okay,” Lauren said. “Use that angle.”
    “But NBC already has its black woman,” Todd said. “Haven’t you been watching? They have Erika James.”
    “Erika James?” That mannequin? I can’t call her an actress. “That sock puppet made one appearance on Meet the Browns and appeared in less than ten minutes of one movie with Martin Lawrence and Eddie Murphy, and suddenly she’s the next Angela Bassett. Erika wasn’t even funny in that movie. She had a straight role and read her lines very well.”
    “Ah, but that movie made a ton of money,” Todd said. “And Erika’s gorgeous and young, and you’re not exactly young. You’re still gorgeous, of course.”
    “I am only thirty-eight, Todd.”
    “I know you still look young,” Todd said, “but we live in an increasingly young world, and right now, Erika has the look.”
    Because Erika is so light-skinned, she could pass for white. “Erika James doesn’t even look black.”
    “She’s black enough for NBC,” Todd said.
    “And I’m too black, right?” Lauren said.
    “That’s not what I meant,” Todd said.
    “It’s okay, Todd,” Lauren said. “Whether you meant it or not, it is the way it is.”
    “So, will you do this reading for Gray Areas or what?” Todd asked.
    Lauren started to pace. “I don’t know.”
    “I have to tell them something soon, as in today,” Todd said. “They actually asked for you by name, Lauren. Can you believe it? I mean, despite you and Chazz splitting up, they still want you, damaged goods and all—not that you’re damaged in any way. How often does that happen these days?”
    I’m old news and damaged goods. “I don’t know, Todd. This script . . .”
    “Lauren, they asked for you by name, ” Todd said. “They created a character with your name. That means that they expect you to take the part. What’s to think about?”
    Plenty. Look at me. I am living in a claustrophobic apartment at Studio Village in North Hollywood, because I had the audacity to break up with the gay—bisexual, whatever! —movie star I was engaged to for three years. I have a college dorm refrigerator and a microwave only big enough to warm up one frozen entrée. My bathroom is a foot away from my kitchen sink so I can cook and take a shower at the same time. I can’t even wash my hands in the bathroom because there’s no sink in the bathroom. Who builds a bathroom without a sink? That can’t be legal.
    I have an in-wall air-conditioning unit that smells like pee and shakes as if there’s a perpetual earthquake somewhere. I have a rented daybed/couch that gives me an unobstructed view of the polluted pool I refuse to use. I pay for a gym—one treadmill and some free weights—I will probably never use. If it weren’t for the NoHo Arts District, where I plan to shop as soon as the paparazzi outside go away, I’d go crazy.
    “Lauren?”
    Lauren sighed. “I’m still here.”
    “Time is money,” Todd said.
    “I know that.” And I suddenly have plenty of time to make some money of my own now. “Could you just call the SNL people one more time?”
    “It won’t do any good,” Todd said.
    “Todd, please talk to them,” Lauren said. “I’m not getting any younger, right?” And if I were taller, “whiter,” and leggier, and if I sported jade-green contacts and had processed hair and overblown breast implants, I could be a leading lady in anybody’s movie again. Short, dark, curvy, natural, and brown-eyed just don’t look good enough on American TV and movie screens these days. I blame high definition.
    “I don’t want them to get tired of hearing from me,” Todd said.
    “It’s been ten years since you talked to them,” Lauren said. “How can they get tired?”
    “I don’t want to wear out my welcome,” Todd said. “By the way, your star meter