Young Adulting - Christina Benjamin Page 0,11

script to fall back on. The work was done, and I deserved to celebrate that.

Plus, now came the fun part—casting!

The Gold City afterparty might be the perfect place to feel out some potential actors for Beyond Sunset. A-list parties like these were the real casting calls. It was where actors, producers, directors and writers schmoozed and laughed it up with each other, the whole time sizing one another up to see if they’d be ‘right’ for whatever new project they were working on.

And there was always a new project.

That was the only sure bet in this town. Everyone had an angle and they were always working on making it bigger and better.

Tonight, I would finally be one of them.

I got out of bed and strolled to the kitchen of my studio bungalow hoping my forgetful assistant, Shari, had remembered to let housekeeping know I was here this week. I had a place in the Hills and my beach house in the Palisades, but I pretty much spent most of my time on the lot.

I’d moved into one of the bungalows when Hermosa Beach started filming… Geez, four years ago now. I couldn’t believe I’d been playing Max Harding since I was sixteen. I was only twenty now, but I’d outgrown the role years ago. I was ready to try something new, something challenging where I could really test myself. Beyond Sunset would do that.

I was born to play Heath O’Brien, the quiet unsung hero. I just needed to convince Isabelle Ellis of that. Speaking of, it probably wasn’t too soon to let her know how involved I wanted to be in the film’s development. I wasn’t going to be one of those writers who just signed away their baby for a paycheck. No way. I’d put way too much of myself into this story to let some studio run away with my vision.

But that could wait until after breakfast.

I pulled open the refrigerator and stared into its pristine emptiness.

Shari strikes again.

I knew my schedule was hard to keep up with, but as my personal assistant that was pretty much her only job. I sighed and spoke into my phone. “Siri, remind Shari to stock the bungalow. I’m on set for the next two weeks.”

Sheesh! Was it really so much to ask for basic necessities like food?

My stomach growled. It looked like I was grabbing breakfast in a rush again.

Perhaps I should’ve just stayed at my parents’ last night. My mother always begged me to stay over after our mandatory family dinners on Thursdays, but I rarely did.

Sometimes I didn’t know why I resisted. Of all the places I owned, none of them really felt like home. My parents’ house may have resembled a museum rather than a cozy family home, but it’s where I’d grown up. It was home to me.

And at least it was always stocked with food.

I stomped to the bathroom, ready to shower and get my day started. My tux was hanging in a garment bag on the back of the door, a note attached from Shari: The premiere is tonight. Don’t be late.

I rolled my eyes. So she did know I was here, she’d just conveniently forgot I needed food to survive.

Sometimes I wondered if people didn’t think of me as human, but more of a pretty dress-up doll that could recite lines and pose for photos.

Celebrities still need to eat, people!

Okay, I knew I was being crabby, but that always happened when I was hungry. Which was often thanks to Shari.

I showered and dressed quickly, deciding to fire off a quick email to Isabelle before I headed out in search of food. But low and behold she’d beaten me to it!

A slow smile stretched across my face as I saw her name in my inbox. “Isabelle, you’re a mind reader,” I murmured. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” I mused in my best Bogart impression as I opened the email. But by the time I’d finished skimming it, I’d changed my mind completely.

Besides a few opening pleasantries, Isabelle spent the rest of the email tearing my script a new one!

Who the heck was she to tell me I needed rewrites?

A junior developer…Yeah, okay, so what?

That didn’t mean she knew what was best for my script. This was my baby! How dare she rip it apart. Did she not get Heath’s quiet heroism? Or the metaphors in Amanda’s failures?

I glared at the email, my anxiety fueling my temper even as a voice