liquor and it was oddly comforting. It made him real and that was all I needed at that point; something real.
Chapter 8
August 2009
For some reason I didn’t consider the fact that Mason was a working actor and would have to leave town eventually. I mean, he had been on the east coast just months before. Even so, when he told me a flight was leaving LAX for Vancouver with him on it, I was surprised.
“I didn’t want you to brood over it,” he admitted.
I tossed one of his shoes at his head. “You’re an ass. One, I do not brood and two, you waited until the day before you were leaving for a month to tell me. What exactly am I supposed to do for a month?”
He gave me his ‘I’m annoyed but not really’ look. “Decorate your place. I didn’t know I was supposed to entertain you daily.”
“Well, you are,” I said laughing. “I guess I could decorate the apartment. Then again, I can function with a bed and two bottles of water in the fridge.”
“Work will keep you busy. Aren’t you filming all this week?” He called from the bathroom where I assumed he was gathering his razor and toothbrush.
He was right, work would keep me busy most of the time. I’d been bouncing from one television show to another; filling extra work but most of the time a speaking role. A week before, I’d been approached about taking a minor part in my first big studio movie. Mason seemed to think it was a great idea and got me started on my SAG membership. My prepaid phone was upgraded to a post paid service and I was set up with an agent.
It seemed absolutely ignorant to pay dues to some union but apparently people were bound to hire me if I carried one of those pretty little cards around in my wallet. I would never understand all the rules.
“You can use my car…and I don’t let anyone drive my car so you should feel special.” He grinned at me as he returned to the bedroom.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re full of shit! You let one of your roommates borrow it a couple weeks ago.”
“Fallyn, you don’t miss much do you?”
“Days and hours of people watching will make you an observant person. Now finish packing so we can go eat fast food and jump in the ball pit at McDonalds.”
“I’m not jumping in the ball pit.” He zipped his carry-on and set it beside the door to his room.
“So you say,” I challenged. “How will you survive without me in Vancouver? Besides the piles and piles of eager fan girls, that is.”
Mason was a popular guy and it had never escaped my notice; we just didn’t talk about it often. He didn’t seem to want to bring attention to himself outside of his performing. Since he’d met me, he barely spent time in his own apartment. The only time he had actually disappeared was for band practice.
“Do you want my honest answer?” He asked me.
I grabbed my sunglasses and opened the apartment door for him. “I already know the answer but tell me in case I’m wrong this time.”
“Smart ass,” he pulled my ponytail, “I’ll call you whenever I can and if I get too lonely, you can come visit. You know, watch a pro at work.”
Yeah, he answered exactly as I predicted.
We went to McDonalds after that and I did get him knee deep in the ball pit but he chickened out before I could tackle him and take him under, wimp. True to his word, he made me drop him off at his place and drive his car home to my new apartment. It felt weird, because we never actually established that we were dating but what man would send some chick home with his car if he didn’t have any investment in her?
My place was ten times better than the hotel room but with less furniture. Spending money gave me panic attacks, especially since the opportunities could end for me at any moment. It drove Mason crazy and he didn’t fail to tell me. There was one thing I wanted to buy for myself but it was gone. The painting. The bleeding girl had become something of a symbol to me and I wanted to look at it every day, hanging on the wall of my small living room. My heart failed a little when I had stepped off the bus and gazed into the