Twist of Fate (Taking Chances #2) - Tia Louise Page 0,34

Crenshaw.

“Did you get the part?” I toss my keys on the table.

I bought a used Honda when I got here. It’s old, but the previous owner gave me all the maintenance records. It took a bite out of my savings, but I learned fast having a car was vital in this city. Now I need a job. The production job I applied for fell through, and living in this apartment isn’t free. I confess, I’m feeling a little strapped.

“I did not.” His voice is quiet.

“Why the headstand?”

My roommate’s legs lower slowly. “Sirsasana is the king of all asanas.”

“The king.” I look through the mail on the table. Nothing for me.

“One minute in the morning and one in the evening will go a long way to keeping your brain healthy and shielding your body from paralysis.” He moves his hands from his head down his sides like a QVC model.

“I imagine paralysis would be a concern standing on your head.”

Tuck goes to the kitchen and puts on the kettle. My roommate is kind of an ultra-hippie, but he’s been in the city for ten years and knows just about everything.

“Lorraine said I need to get headshots done. Any tips?”

“Any photographer will know how to do actor headshots.” He scoops loose tea into a silver ball then drops it in a mug.

“So I’ve heard. I was hoping to get them cheap.”

“West Hollywood, Burbank, drive around and read the signs. There’s enough of them to be competitive.” The kettle whistles, and he pours boiling water into the mug. “I was studying my star chart this morning. Big changes are coming in the near future. Could be good. Or bad.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Pulling out my phone, I reread the text I sent to Daisy last night. Tired of traveling yet?

I was feeling down and missing her.

She’d sent back a smiling emoji. Headed to Atlanta tomorrow. Big buyer’s convention.

Send pix.

She didn’t reply, and anger heated my throat when I realized she’s probably traveling with Spencer the douche.

I have to stop texting her. We’re three thousand miles apart, and I’m not headed back any time soon. We need to get on with our lives, but I can’t forget her face when we said goodbye at the airport. Her expression was so sad, and her eyes… Her round, dark eyes were so deep.

I had to walk away fast before I said something I couldn’t take back.

It was only supposed to be two weeks.

We’re just friends, and I can’t stop thinking about her.

“Open auditions for a new pilot.” Crenshaw is reading his phone.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it called?”

His nose curls. “Mighty Thunder. Stock car racers who solve crimes. Sounds right up your alley.”

I don’t know what the hell that means, but like I told Lorraine, I’m up for anything that’ll get my foot in the door. “Send me the link. I’ll be back.”

Grabbing my keys, I take off towards West Hollywood. Every open audition requires a résumé and headshots. The first one I see has the prices on the door, which can’t be good.

“Five hundred dollars?” Shit, that’s more than my car note.

I’m determined to find something cheaper. Walking down the sidewalk, it’s like my roommate said, a line of photographers all competing with each other.

“Ultimate Sensations.” I pause, looking at the black and white portraits inside. A yellow flier on the door says Photographer’s special: $150 headshots plus additional poses.

“Can’t beat that.” A bell rings as I open the door and head inside.

Franco Romano greets me as the photographer and owner. He seems like a good guy, friendly and engaging. He has chairs and sofas, ramps and footballs—every kind of prop and costume you can imagine, from gangster to Roman gladiator, even cowboy gear.

“I’d like to take one in that.” Unforgiven was one of my favorite movies as a kid.

“Of course. Any two outfits you want.”

I sign off on the paperwork. “It says here ‘headshots and three additional poses.’”

“Two wardrobe changes and one set of nudes.”

“Nudes?” My chin pulls back. “Why the hell would I want nudes?”

He exhales dramatically as if I’m an idiot. “Casting directors want to see the whole package. If they’re looking for a European role, most men are uncut. If you’re American, it’s assumed you are. It saves time and money.”

It takes me a minute to consider this. “Okay.”

I’m not embarrassed to take nude photos. I can always toss them if I don’t need them. Or shred them first, I guess. Or send them to Daisy. The thought makes me chuckle, then