SLEAZE: A Hollywood Comeback Story (Book #1)

Chapter 22

A heavy marine layer hung in the sky as I pulled my car out of the airport’s long-term parking lot, slamming the brakes at the same time that a shuttle bus sped by and narrowly missed clipping my front end.

“What the hell,” I cried, heart racing as the shuttle driver leaned on his horn and glared at me. “Did you see that?”

“Careful,” Sophie murmured as she flipped down the passenger’s side sun visor and began fixing her makeup in the attached mirror.  

“He almost hit us,” I said, shaking my head as I eased into the flow of traffic heading towards the main street.

“But he didn’t,” Sophie said, rummaging through her purse for a palette of flesh-toned foundation. She dragged a brush through the tinted powder and then traced the bristles against her cheeks in careful circles. “I can’t believe we made it.”

“We aren’t there yet,” I replied, tugging at my collar and pushing up my sleeves. I motioned to the A/C. “Do you mind?”

“I just spent a week in the snow, I think I can handle it.” Sophie turned the air conditioning’s knob to the lowest setting before patting the area beneath her eyes with light flicks of her fingertips. “What did Michael say?”

I angled the vents at my face, sighing as a cool stream of air tickled my brow. “Just to get over to Kelly’s office. He said he canceled his nine-thirty in case something goes wrong and we need him.”

“That was nice of him,” Sophie said, balancing a new brush between her teeth and opening a thin pot filled with peach colored blush.

I nodded, deciding there was no point in telling her that Michael’s apparent act of kindness was nothing more than self-interest. It was true that he wanted to be on standby to do damage control but that was because he considered Kelly O’Brien a key contact—the kind of industry player who would rebound and remember the agents who brought him the best talent while he was down. I knew it was Michael’s goal to be on that list, two, three, even four blockbusters down the line and I couldn’t blame him for that. I had a feeling that Sophie wouldn’t be quite as understanding about his motivations, though. 

“How do I look?” Sophie asked, dumping her makeup kit back into her bag and waiting for me to appraise the end result.

I glanced at her, noting the fresh glow that filled her face, and wondered how a few dabs of concealer could have such a dramatic effect; she’d looked completely beat when she stepped off the plane. “Pretty,” I replied, deciding that at least I could be honest about that.

“Really? Good, because I feel two steps ahead of death.” Sophie laughed, tussling her hair until the strands fell in loose waves around her shoulders.

As I neared the ramp for the 405 northbound, I looked at the bumper-to-bumper cars idling on the streets below and asked, “What do you think? Should I risk it or take Santa Monica Boulevard?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said as her brows creased. “It’s the middle of rush hour, will there even be a difference?” 

My heart sank because I knew there wouldn’t be, but I also knew that two lanes on the major side street had been closed for repairs. Against my better judgment and Michael’s advice, I veered onto the busy highway and hoped for the best.

“I’ll get off in Culver,” I explained, trying to justify my decision by rationalizing it out loud. “We can go through Rancho Park and cut over.”

I looked down at my speedometer and cringed when I saw that we were traveling at less than ten miles an hour. That was the thing I hated most about driving in Los Angeles, I decided. It was impossible to get anywhere in the city without a car but most of the time, it’d be faster to just get out and walk. Focused on the brake lights ahead, Sophie shrugged.