items she had forgotten she’d bought or money she’d spent for services. It seemed like her overhead was out of control, and she was paying close attention now. She realized that she was paying six thousand dollars a month to her gardener, who hardly ever showed up, and never got it right when he did. She had forgotten that she’d had her fence painted for ten thousand dollars. It seemed like every time she turned around, someone was gouging her, and she had been letting it happen for months, or even years.
In a moment of panic, she called a realtor and put her house on the market to rent for the summer. Two days later, a well-known actor came to see it and loved it, and agreed to rent it for three months. She had to be out in a week, but he was willing to pay a fortune, while he was filming on location in L.A. He was supposedly a quiet sort, and he was going to be living there alone. His wife and kids were at their house in Montana for the summer, so there wouldn’t be much wear and tear on her place. She hated to move out, but she needed the money. She priced some studio apartments after that for herself, and they were ridiculously overpriced, so suddenly she didn’t know where to live in L.A.
They wrapped the series, everyone sobbed when they said goodbye, the technicians, the actors, the producers. She was depressed when she drove home, in the small Japanese car she was leasing that was even cheaper than the Ford. Everything about her life was depressing. Overnight she felt like a has-been, and wondered if she’d ever work again. It felt like she wouldn’t. There were people she liked to hang out with, but she didn’t call them. She was ashamed to be out of work. In Hollywood you were a pariah, and no one, once you weren’t on a show. She had forgotten what that was like, in the past ten years.
Kate called her the night they wrapped the show. “How’s it going?” she said cheerfully. She’d had a good day with Thad, planning the next auction. They were selling more livestock than usual, and had sent out a huge mailing, which had been his idea.
“Don’t ask. I’m looking for a studio apartment. They’re insanely expensive.”
“Why don’t you just stay here?” Kate suggested again. “It’s free. You have a house, and you can drive to L.A. when you need to.” Gemma hated the thought, but she didn’t have any other options. She had to be out in three days for the actor who had rented it, and wanted to have the carpets cleaned before he arrived.
“Maybe for a few weeks. If I find a decent studio, I can come back. It really feels like rewinding the film, though, to some of the worst days of my life, when all I wanted to do was get out of there.”
“It’s temporary, Gem, it’s not forever. Just until you find work, and get a few jobs under your belt, or a part on another show.”
“I hope so. If I wind up back in the Valley for good, I think I’ll shoot myself.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll be working again by the fall.”
“Tell my agent that. He acts like I’m a hundred years old. Maybe I should get my eyes done again while I have the time. And a boob job. I swear, they’re an inch lower than they were last year. Maybe he’s right.”
“You don’t need your eyes done, or a boob job. I know twenty-year-olds who would kill to have a body like yours.”
“Well, for five thousand a month to my trainer, six thousand to my gym, two thousand to my Pilates class, and another three to my fancy yoga coach, they can have this body. Surgery would be cheaper,” she said, and her sister laughed. “My trainer and my yoga coach have their own TV shows.”
“Jesus, that’s a lot of money to look as good as you do. I’m glad I live up here. So what do you think? Do you want to come up for a while?”
“Not really. I’d rather cut my liver out with an ice pick. But I don’t have much choice, for the moment. Maybe I’ll stay at the ranch for a month.”
“You can stay for as long as you want,” Kate said warmly. “It would be nice to have you here, even for a while. I’m hoping