No Interest in Love Read Online Free PDF

demographic.” She puts her hand back on the wheel. “You land this audition, you’re going to attract a lot of women—”
    “Obviously.”
    “And your debut will attract a lot of men.”
    “I’m just the all-around shit.”
    She starts biting her pinkie nail again. Usually she has some comment to pop my big head when I start bragging, but she stays quiet, biting that nail and staring out the windshield. I stretch my arms out and tuck them behind my head. May as well try to sleep while I can, since that coffee had to be decaf. If I stay awake, pretty soon she’ll make me work in some way. Practice lines, study Carletta’s movies, social network or something. Maybe make out with another inanimate object. She already recited the movie description to me—word for word, I’m betting. The gist of it is Guy One and Chick One get on a reality show and realize that if they fake a relationship, then they’ll move farther in the game. Sort of like a chick-flick
Hunger Games
for thirty-year-olds. Of course a series of unfortunate and hilarious events draw the two very opposite leads together, and the initial “end goal” of the money doesn’t mean shit anymore.
    It’s the screenplay that only happens
on
-screen and rarely off of it.
    Keeping my eyes closed, I pretend to be dead asleep while Shay keeps talking about how we’re going to market…well, me. I doze off almost right away.
    5:57 A.M.
    A lurch in my stomach wakes me up, and I shoot upright. Shay’s fists are curled around the wheel so tight her knuckles are white, and her lips are pushed together in a hard, straight line.
    “Shit, how fast you going?”
    “Is that always the first word you say when you wake up?” she says through those tight lips. “Be more professional, damn it.”
    “Ahhhh…” I inhale deeply. “The sweet smell of hypocrisy.” The car lurches forward again and I adjust the seat up and check the speedometer. “Seriously, though, slow down. We’re gonna spin out.”
    “I know what I’m doing,” she spits, and I jolt back from her tone. Sure, Shay’s never been a ray of sunlight, but she’s never been one hundred percent hellhound. I check the durability of my seat belt.
    “You okay?” I ask her.
    “Fine. Just want to get there.”
    I raise an eyebrow, noticing the makeup under her eyes is a bit smeared. She fixes her glasses and doesn’t give me a second glance.
    “Stupid!” Shay says, making me jump in my seat. “Stupid, stupid,” she continues, pounding her hand on the steering wheel. “I work my ass off and they just…They just…
Argh!
”
    “Oh yeah,” I say. “You sure sound ‘fine.’ ”
    “Did you know I’ve been a junior agent for three years? I double-majored in business
and
film studies and guess who gets promoted before me? Brownnoser Barry and his newest client,
Weston Roland
.” She shakes her head side to side, glaring at the windshield. Her foot presses harder on the gas pedal, and I know she’s in a mood, but I don’t want to end up splattered on the side of the road.
    “Calm the hell down. We’re gonna spin out.”
    “You know what’s the worst part?” she goes on, flinging her hand out at me. “I was the one who researched Weston. I sought him out, contacted him, and told him about the part I thought he’d be perfect for. And he goes and signs with my colleague because he’s ‘more personable’?”
    “Well…” I say, then shut my mouth because the car pushes forward again when Shay turns and gives me the death glare.
    “I can be personable,” she says, then turns to the windshield. Under normal circumstances, I’d argue with her, but I’m clinging to the dash now, squinting through the downpour and wondering how the hell she can see.
    “Damn it,” she whispers, her voice getting wet. My chest feels tight, and I cringe because crying women are my kryptonite. Probably why I get along with Shay, because she doesn’t cry. She keeps her shit together. Discomfort prickles