The Love Interest

Chapter 5

"Hey, Blondie." I spin on my heel at the beckoning of my landlord who was- to no ones advantage- a big, burly man with a tattoo of the swastika on his bulging biceps. I was accustom to his incessant injunctions to pay my rent, that is far past due, but that doesn't mean I don't occasionally climb up the apartment's pipe stem to enter my own residency. Even after I was reported to the Los Angeles Police Department for ostensibly "breaking in" to an apartment building that was mine, I still squabbled up the side of the building with the help of some sturdy grapevines. That was until I realized that I was practically a soon-to-be archetype in the acting industry, and if someone ever recorded me trekking up the brick wall of a scrappy apartment complex, it would definitely serve as blackmail bait.

I mean, imagine seeing a video of Emma Watson illegally rock climbing a housing vicinity in the lower scale areas of LA. She'd be demolished through and through.

"Hey there..," I grin appealingly in hopes to palliate the crippling debt I've managed to end up in, "Trav-dawg? You look lovely this evening."

He gives me a flat out stare, not even the slightest bit amused by my conciliatory attempt to distract him with god-awful flirting pursuits. "You're a month late."

It's almost like every word he speaks is a growl in itself. His voice is the perfect stereotype for the conventional buff dude that lives next door and can kick down a door with a tap. I swear that every time he goes to the gym, his voice drops another octave.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. The pregnancy test came back negative." I spare no effort to turn his comment into an adverse topic, but this wins no laugh- not even a crack of a smile. I clear my throat, giving in to his intimidation game. "I...I know, Travon. I just got a lead role in a television series so my paycheck should be arriving soon. I promise I'll tip you for the wait."

"You're lucky I haven't dropped you off in the Pacific ocean." He snarls, baring his nearly rotted teeth. "A few more weeks and that's where you'll be."

"Got it." I say, grateful for his exception. "I promise, Sir Travon. I will be on time this month- for my menstrual cycle and my rent." I snap my jaw shut. I should stop talking now.

The taunting of my procrastination catches up with me as nightmares throughout the night. I have a couple about actually waking up in the Pacific, whilst the others are about having to share my immunity shots with a street rat. The tormenting was enough to draw sleep away from me, and when I went into set the following week, the makeup artists had to go heavy on the under-eye concealer in order to make myself look less enervated. We were supposed to start shooting our pilot episode next week, and I'm already a wreck who's so close to taking up a side hussle (that may or may not require a sugar daddy) to help get my through next month's rent. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why money does buy happiness.

The set of the Adair Affair was complete, and Harlow gave me a sneak peek of Elowen's wardrobe that consisted of the old money aesthetic because, unlike me, Elowen has a great inheritance to support her and her New England style. Though our set was in Hollywood, the supposed setting for the show we're shooting was in Nantucket; the less money-conscious side of the world.

"Hayes said that I should do my own stunts." Blue mentions. "I have fragile bones. Stunts aren't my thing."

Blue and I were rehearsing our lines, just like the rest of our co-stars with the person they've chosen to converse with. It was the top of the morning, which meant it was nearly six a.m, and we were about to start rehearsing the first episode for the first time after our warm up.

Balancing a coffee cup on my knee, and reading the script in my hand, I look at him with a tilted expression. "Then ask for a stunt double. I'm sure there's room in Hayes budget for one."