Page 2 of Stars and Scars

“Hi honey, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m great, just about to wash off my workout sweat and head out to meet the team. How are you?”

“We’re doing just fine–”

Apparently I’m on speaker, because my dad cuts in. “Ask her about the surprise!”

Mom makes a ‘tsk’ sound and I chuckle as I picture her pinching Dad’s arm.

"As you like to say, Dad, patience is a virtue. Too bad this virtue's still on backorder."

I can practically hear my dad wink as he says, “that’s my girl.”

Mom clears her throat and I think I know what’s coming next.

“Charlotte, you’ve been working so hard lately. Are you taking some time for yourself? Making plans with friends?”

Just as I suspected. “I spend time with my friends every day, all day. That’s the great thing about my job.”

My mom’s frown is audible through the phone. “Well, I just want you to be able to really live your life. You know, take a break, unplug. I worry about you.”

If she only knew about the haters and idle threats, like the one I got last week. She would insist I quit social media immediately. Which is why I don’t tell her about them.

“Don’t worry Mom, once I land this big sponsor today, I’ll be able to relax a bit.”

I think Mom wants to say more, but instead she says, “Ok honey, sounds good. Well we better get to work.”

We end with a chorus of ‘I love yous,’ and I set the phone down with a sigh.

All the time and effort I spend to support my parents, and they still have to work. Even worse, I hardly get to spend any time with them. But hopefully that’s going to change soon.

Not that I’m complaining. My parents worked two, sometimes three jobs at a time to make sure I got enough to eat and could attend a decent school. I have no problem paying them back in kind.

And besides, my life is great. I get to hang out with celebrities, try the latest brands and fashions for free–Heck, they pay me to try them most of the time–and don’t have to worry too much about money.

True, it would be nice if I had a little more time to enjoy it. And maybe someone special to enjoy it with. But even if I had the time, dating in LA is hard. A lot of men can masquerade under a veil of charm that falls away the second they get comfortable with you. So I stick with what works, for now.

The sun is a red line on the horizon when I finish my shower and slip into leggings and an oversize top. My wardrobe team is due to meet me at the PCC flea market in an hour. It’s going to be a big day filming content and I have to be at my best.

I stop and pose on the hood of my red Lexus. I’m supposed to create at least three endorsement social media posts about the car every week. In exchange, I get to keep on leasing it, and they even foot the bill for my fuel. In LA, where you have to drive everywhere, this is huge.

Once I’ve posted about the car, I get behind the wheel and drive to the flea market. By the time I spot my team’s big, green van in the parking lot, the sun is well into the azure sky. I slip on a pair of shades before locking the Lexus and joining my team.

“Good morning, everyone. Leslie, is that coffee for me?”

“Yes ma’am, here you go.”

“Thanks Leslie, you’re a lifesaver.”

I take the coffee from Leslie’s wizened grip. She’s around seventy and still has the magic touch when it comes to styling hair. Behind her, my make up artist Ramone fans herself with a folded up event program. Steve, my pink-shirted, impeccably mustachioed camera man, gives me a wave.

“How's Whiskers doing?” I ask Steve.

“She's doing much better now, and getting used to having no claws. She's even making her happy cat noises again. I recorded a few that are gonna make great sound effects.”

I chuckle. “What would I do without you?”

“You would live a sad, boring life,” Steve says with a wink.

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