Skinnydipping Read Online Free PDF Page B

possible. And yet something inside me bucked against this treatment. I’d show them who was worthy. I’d get a job on their show, and soon, they’d know exactly who I was, and they would be sorry they ever treated me that way. They had the chance to befriend me on my way up, and they blew it. Screw them both.
    Just as I was considering turning around and going right back home, Brooke appeared in front of me. “There you are!” She was breathless, and had obviously been dancing. Her blonde hair was mussed in a sexy way and her cheeks were pink. A lusty-looking man with sandy, feathered hair and a beautiful face stood behind her, his hands lingering around her waist.
    “Is that Rob Lowe?” I whispered.
    “Who, him?” she said, looking behind her. “Nah, that’s Brett Jones. He’s an actor. I told him I’m not interested, but he’s following me around like a puppy.” She laughed. Surely Brett Jones had heard her, but he didn’t seem deterred. “We’ve been friends for ages. Where have you been?” I wondered if she was cheating on my father. I almost hoped she was. He was probably cheating on her, if the stories mymother told me were true, and I couldn’t help wanting him to be punished for being such a crappy father.
    “Getting dissed by Donna Shannon at the bar,” I said. “I can’t believe what an asshole she is. Susan Terence, too. I’m so embarrassed. And pissed off!”
    “Fuck her, who even watches that show,” Brooke said loyally. “C’mon, you’ve got to meet this guy, he’s your perfect match. He’s just an actor, but I think you’ll like him.” Just an actor! I couldn’t help being impressed by actors, even though Brooke kept telling me to go for the producers. Brooke had access to an older, wealthier, more powerful crowd, and she understood who had the real power, but she also knew me and she knew what I liked. Once, when we saw Christian Slater in a bar, I was drooling over him. “Christian Slater would probably love to be sitting next to someone like your friend Larry Todd,” she told me. “It’s the producers who have all the power, you know. It’s not the actors.” But I still found it hard to believe. The actors were so beautiful and glamorous.
    Brooke grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd, around the edge of the dance floor and over to one of the booths, next to the one where the shirtless girl was now sitting, eyes closed, cross-legged, as if to meditate.
    She pushed me into the booth next to a tall man with wavy hair cut like a young Elvis. He had dark eyes, great facial structure, a prominent nose, and the body of an athlete—not muscle-bound, but broad and tight. Brooke slid in next to me and leaned over. “Tony, this is my friend Faith. Faith, this is Tony. He’s an actor, and … he’s from New York!” She sat back and crossed her arms, obviously pleased with herself.
    I smiled my best movie-star smile. He was handsome in a rugged, Italian sort of way, a little rough around the edges, probably a character actor and not a leading man. No Rob Lowe, but still. I held out my hand. Don’t tell him you want to be an actress , I schooled myself. Be mysterious, don’t be lame.
    “Nice to meet you, Tony.”
    “Hello.” He smiled and shook my hand, but he didn’t seem particularly thrilled to meet me. I was going to have to win him over. My looks were OK, not great, so that wasn’t going to seal the deal. But my attitude was a ten.
    “So, you’re a New Yorker, too,” I said. “Do you ever just hate the fucking sun and pray for snow and cold?”
    That got him to laugh. “I know what you mean. I’m shooting a movie in New York next month and I can’t wait to get back, even though it will be August when that beautiful garbage aroma wafts over the city.”
    “I miss that smell!” I said, longingly, still in that bitter phase so many transplants from New York linger in, where we all say how much we hate L.A. and long for New York, even though we’ve