The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,6

a shower and super light makeup. Concealer, powder and mascara, nothing else. Too bad I hadn’t washed my uniform last night. I had two versions of the calf-length skirt and cheap blazer, and both were crumpled in the bottom of my closet, dirty. I could hang one in the shower, then hit it with an iron.

A 21 on the third row matched on in the top bar. I quickly scratched the area below it.

1,000,000

The numbers were small and cramped, barely fitting in the little space. I looked from the 21 to the top 21, then back down.

1,000,000

Later, when the press would unfold how Emma Blanton came to be, and they’d return to this moment, I’d tell a story of me screaming in joy, then running around the apartment, looking for Amy. But in truth, that isn’t what happened. Instead, I just sat at our cheap wobbly table, the dented detective’s business card beside me, and checked the numbers over and over again. And then, after a long moment where the validity of it sank in, I started to cry.

It was the exhaustion of it all that finally hit me. The stress over the fourteen dollars in my bank account. The past-due balance on my cell phone. The deposit I had to abandon on community-college classes. The upcoming eight-hour shift. My teeth, which had dictated my social standing, dating prospects, and self-confidence for my entire life. And now I had this small square of paper with a million dollars that I suddenly felt an enormous pressure to do something with. But what?

I didn’t deserve this. I’d stolen a dead man’s phone. I owed Amy twelve dollars from takeout three days ago. I’d faked a doctor’s note to get an extra paid sick day at work.

I hadn’t done anything in my life which warranted this sort of blessing, and I cried because the hope it gave me was terrifying.

After ten minutes, I wiped off my face, then called Rick and left him a voicemail, quitting my job. I left the detective’s card on the table and moved into our shared bathroom, placing the ticket on the soap rack and locking the door behind me. I turned on the water and undressed.

For the first time, I didn’t skimp on the shampoo or turn off the water in between rinse cycles. This time, I took my time and let myself dream.

For the first time ever, I had options. Every option. I could disappear. I could reinvent myself. I could have the life, any life, that I wanted.

6

#believeinyourself

EMMA: 849 FOLLOWERS

I thought, foolishly enough, that with money came friends. And it could, in the right way, buy a certain amount of interaction. But fame was the real draw. In Los Angeles, everyone wanted to know someone famous. I learned that from Vidal Franklin. I learned everything from Vidal Franklin.

“Take what you know, honey. All of it. Take it and throw it out the window.” Vidal was porcelain white and bald, with eyelashes so thick they looked fake. “You know nothing, understand?”

“Sure.” I nodded, because when you pay someone ten thousand dollars a month, you listen to them. And, Vidal was right. I knew nothing.

“Now, on the phone you said that you wanted to be an actress. Why?” He had a coffee cup set before him, the lid off, upside down, and placed meticulously to one side. His long fingers pinched a silver spoon and stirred the contents, which already had four sugars and one cream.

Why did I want to be an actress? I struggled with the truth—money, fame, adoration—and some less vapid motivations, none of which came to mind. “Umm… I like to act.”

“Are you good at it?” He cocked one pierced brow, and he was intimidatingly beautiful. Impressive bone structure. A perfect complexion.

“Well…” I shifted in the seat. “I think so?”

“You’re not good at it.” He shook his head, and I got a whiff of his cologne.

“I’m not?”

“No. If you were good, you wouldn’t have a question mark at the end of that sentence. And in this town, hot white girls with some acting talent are everywhere. Leave this coffee shop, and you’ll trip over one on your way out.”

Hot white girls. Was that what I was now? Was I, with a new haircut, spray tan and fixed teeth, suddenly hot? I held my breath and hoped desperately that it was true. It would mean a peek at a world I’d never known, one where I could smile at someone without them flinching, walk into