“This is path we’ve chosen for now, Mallory. You can always come with me.”
Not expecting his harsh tone, I blink and stare at him. “I can’t. I have to be on set.”
“And I have to be in the studio. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Wow. I don’t know how to respond, so I duck my head and pick up the phone. “I better call her back.”
“I’m going to unpack and do some laundry.”
“Okay,” I whisper, watching him walk away. The honeymoon really is over.
A painful lump in my throat expands and settles in my chest. Maybe Chaser’s tired of me being so clingy? Or maybe he really expects me to blow off work and go to Vancouver with him for the next month. Whatever the reason, it takes me a few minutes to compose myself enough to call Marilyn.
“Mallory! Are you in town? Please tell me—”
Not in the mood for her theatrics this afternoon, I cut her off. “I’m back.”
“Congratulations on the engagement.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
I hate this game. “Bad news.”
“Don’t freak out. The exercise video...it’s not quite what we’d hoped for.”
“We didn’t hope for anything. You talked me into doing it as a lucrative revenue stream.”
“I know. I know. It’s not awful. Not the end of the world.”
“What’s wrong, then?”
“It’s um…a bit more salacious than I anticipated.”
“Salacious, how?”
“Well,” she draws out the word until I’m ready to scream. “The angles. The way it was shot. The outfit. The cheesy music. Overall, it feels more like soft core porn than an exercise video.”
“What?” My voice wobbles. “I was in a leotard and tights.”
“Oh, you look fabulous, honey. Killer. It’s just a bit tasteless.”
“That’s great.”
“It’s fine. You’ve already been paid. We just won’t participate in any of the promotion for it. Let it die on the vine. No biggie. We just move on.”
I’m tempted to point out, yet again, that she’s the one who talked me into wasting my time and energy on this project, but she’s right. I was paid—well—for it. I doubt it’s much worse than the ‘Candy Jar’ video or any of the other music videos I’ve shot. Lesson learned.
“What’s the good news?” I ask.
“It’s really good, Mallory. Really, really good. So good, you won’t want to fire me for the exercise video debacle.”
Wow, Marilyn was really worried. Or the video’s worse than she said.
“I’m not going to fire you, Marilyn.”
“Good.” She takes a long, dramatic pause. “Scout Southgate is putting together a weekly primetime soap opera. And he wants you to audition for it.”
I take a second to absorb the information. “Scout Southgate knows who I am?”
She snorts into the phone. “Apparently, his daughter will be starring on the show—don’t even get me started on how that horse-faced twit can’t act her way out of a paper bag—but she’s a big fan of yours and told her daddy you’re perfect for this role.”
“Madeline Southgate knows who I am?” I’m still having trouble processing.
“Yes, Mallory. People know who you are,” she says patiently. “That’s the whole point of this acting thing, right?”
“Right. Okay, so when and where? And what do I do about Shallow End?”
“No one wants you to leave Shallow End. In fact, for now, I want you to keep this on the down low. Especially from Pamela Scott.” She scoffs. “Not that anyone would buy her in this role, but still.”
“What’s the part?”
“Clueless virgin teenager from some hick town, who moves to Hollywood with the rest of her hillbilly family.”
That’s a lot of insults in one sentence to decipher. “Uh, okay.”
“It’s better than bimbo bouncing up and down in her bathing suit, right?”
“I guess.”
“A little more excitement and gratitude would be nice, Mallory.”
“Oh, I’m excited. Do you think I can pull off playing a teenager, though?”
“You barely look eighteen as it is. Madeline’s at least two years older than you and she’s playing your best friend. Your ‘brother’ on the show is about thirty. You’ll fit in perfectly.”
“Wait, you’re talking about this as if I already have the part?”
“I told you, they’re extremely eager to have you audition.”
“Wow. When and where?”
“Now that you’re home, I’ll get the audition set up. What’s your schedule like?”
I give her my plans for the week and she promises to try and work in the audition so I don’t have to take time off from Shallow End. After one more reminder to keep the audition to myself
I’m still staring at the phone after I hang up, absorbing the