Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,27

leaving our parents today!” Her green eyes brimmed with jovial exhilaration at the emotional carnage awaiting her character that would allow her to access the full range of her talent. “So, at this point in the script, you’re about a month away from being an episode of I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant and instead of telling your parents that you’re five months knocked-up, you’re pretending to go off to your freshman year of college, like nothing is out of the ordinary.”

I even flinched a little at Madeline’s cold recounting of the scene.

“…Oh…Well, I can think of so much to tell you about what I was thinking through all of that,” Adley responded quietly, her head bowed in a suspicious way.

I scoffed doubtfully. She should leave the acting to the professionals.

“…I just don’t know how comfortable I feel sharing such intimate details about my life in front of strangers,” she continued with the same soft air that didn’t suit her at all.

Then with one quick exaggeratedly ashamed glance in my direction, I watched her plan fall into place as Madeline rapidly followed the trail Adley had intentionally led her down.

“Get out, Davies.” Madeline dismissed me with away a flick of her wrist, as easy as that.

She turned her back to me, automatically assuming I’d do as she told me. She went to retrieve her script and a pencil, and Adley’s face shined with triumph. The victorious smirk was eerily familiar, leaving me to question whether it was just Madeline that she was picking things up from.

I left, shaking my head and feeling highly impressed with Adley Adair for the second time that day.

I was actually looking forward to the ride home. Not because Adley was exceptionally charming. She wasn’t. Actually she was refreshingly lacking in charm. It was just another quality that made it difficult for me to see her as the Adley Adair who lived through the pages of The Girl in the Yellow Dress.

She didn’t match anything about that past. Not the girl Cam had made her, or the environment she’d been raised in.

People of Los Angeles oozed charisma, their desperate eyes shining greedily at anyone who looked their way. It was hard to believe that in only four years, the east coast could completely baptize her of the Californication found so potently in her peers.

“All your call times have been moved back a few hours, Mr. Davies.” The scrawny director’s assistant was draped with so much hardware, a helmet-like headset, an iPhone in one hand, a walkie-talkie latched to his belt, and a stack of clipboards nestled into the crook of his other arm, it was a miracle he didn’t collapse under the weight of it all.

I bobbed my head in understanding, and started back to my trailer with a sigh.

I was already bored shitless at the prospect of spending the next hours cooped up alone. I considered finding a pretty extra to flirt with, but even the idea of her fawning gaze was a turn-off. Inside, my area was nearly identical to Madeline’s, with two exceptions; my television was double in size, and the mess scattered about rivaled that ratio as well.

Opening the full-sized fridge, I found there was one good thing about the filming delay. I was going to get to bog in the mouthwatering dish my housekeeper had left for me earlier that week.

My gaze wandered as I waited for the oven to preheat and faced with the disaster of the space, I reminded myself to check if Aurelia would sort this place out for me like she did my home.

Funnily enough, the first weeks I’d lived in the studio rented house, I had been completely unaware the lease included a maid. After a while, I’d realized the strangeness that, despite the fact I was gone all day and never lifted a finger to clean up after myself, the laundry was always done, bed made, and the dishes I left in the sink somehow magically appeared sparkling clean in the cupboard.

Of course, I’d eventually come to suspect there was someone cleaning up after me, but I never saw the person responsible. It was kind of like having a fairy godmother that didn’t mind folding my underwear. Or, at least, I hoped it was a maid. The alternative was I was one of those nongs who couldn’t take a sleeping pill without a delirious hassle they couldn’t remember anything about in the morning.

Although, I supposed there were worse things I could be doing in an