Outtakes Of A Walking Mistake Read Online Free PDF Page B

notice a broken soda vending machine laced with punk rock stickers and anime. The concrete walls are lined with movie posters based on plays like Mama Mia , Hairspray , and Rent and in the background Jenny’s telling me how things really work in Hollywood. How things really, really work. “If you want a part,” she slurs, “you have to sleep with Mr. Dolby.”
    “What? Are you crazy? Ew.”
    “Well, that’s how it works in Hollywood.”
    “But he’s married,” I whisper.
    “So? You can still flirt with him. And why are you whispering?”
    “Because he’s in the next room,” I say, pointing to Mr. Dolby’s white office door.
    “Oops.”
    Here I am. I have zero, zilch, nada, no acting experience, and my best friend wants me to sleep with Mr. Dolby. I wonder what his wife, Assistant Principal Dolby, would think. Sure, she’s married to a man who is one tiara short of entering the Miss Universe Pageant but that hasn’t stopped her from proudly wearing her wedding ring on campus. She must love him, I guess.
    Oh, I’m destined for failure I tell myself as Jenny begins dishing out her Three Famous Flawless Flirting guidelines. “Listen closely. You must do exactly what I say,” she tells me.
    1. Keep a safe distance. Men only want things they can’t reach.
    2. Speak in a whisper. Make him really focus on what you’re saying.
    3. Use innuendo. Men like the subtle approach.
    “And if that doesn’t work?” I ask.
    “Then add flatter to the batter. No man can resist a good ego stroke, especially if he’s gay.”
    As Mr. Dolby opens his office door I kick Jenny in the leg and tell her to hush. True, Mr. Dolby may like men but I don’t think he’s cool enough to act on it. “Mr. Morris,” he states in a faux British accent. “It’s time.”
    “Be right in,” I smile.
    Flinging a purple scarf over his shoulder, Mr. Dolby pauses to lift his double chin, casting a weary eye on Jenny before heading back in his office. Me, I can’t help but smile, noticing how his small body comes full circle with a round penguin ass.
    “So, do you promise to take my advice?” Jenny asks. Standing upright, she wobbles a tad, grabbing the tie-dyed shade of a floor lamp.
    “Promise.”
    “Cool beans. Then I’m headed to the mall. Shopping calls,” she says, jiggling her keys. Mall? Driving? No. Bad idea....
    Very bad idea....
    Not that Jenny agrees. The minute I tell her no, that I don’t want her behind the wheel, she flashes me her sheer white bra and stumbles out of the room, telling me that I only wish I had tits. And this is the girl I’m about to take advice from? Oh Lord, I need help. I need help in a bad way.
    “Take a seat,” Mr. Dolby says, as I enter his spacious office. The space smells hospital-clean with blood red walls and a Persian rug spread in the center of the floor. And me, I can’t believe I’m about to flirt with this bald, pudgy man.
    “Is this where you want me?” I ask, referring to a folding chair placed on the Persian rug. I speak using a sugar-like tone.
    “That will do,” Mr. Dolby replies. At the far end of the room, he peers into a small video camera resting on a tripod beside his cherry wood desk. “But talk louder, dear boy. The camera needs to hear you.”
    “Sorry.”
    “No need for an apology. Just grant me a moment to focus.” With Mr. Dolby busily tinkering with the buttons on his camera, I bide my time by surveying the room.
    Talk about bizarre. His choice of feminine décor makes his workplace seem like the bedroom of a pre-adolescent girl obsessed with tea parties and cartoon princesses. Overhead the ceiling is painted blue with a magic carpet soaring through a bed of puffy, white clouds. And in each corner, hang white wicker baskets of bright, pink and yellow flowers, complete with long, green vines that twirl like gift box ribbons. But that’s not the weird part. The weird part is that along each wall, tiara-wearing china dolls sit motionless, hidden amongst the