Page 16 of Role Play
“Cam’s free tonight.” I picture Rina scowling at my very helpful suggestion.
“Cameron is a buffoon.”
“A buffoon who doesn’t mind being shamelessly groped.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll figure it out. But you owe me, and I’m going to make it hell. You think Mrs. Connor is handsy? Your next job is going to be with the woman Levi calls the human octopus.”
“Wait, what?—”
But like Hannah, Rina also ends our call without saying “bye.”
Human octopus?That can’t be good.
I unzip Dakota’s pink backpack that was resting by my feet. “Any chance you have pajamas in here, baby?” Dakota only has two pairs of PJs at my shoebox of an apartment, and not expecting her until next weekend, I haven’t done laundry quite yet.
She shakes her head aggressively, her hair whipping her in the face.
“I guess we’re going shopping.”
“Why?”
“Because I just talked to Mommy, and you and I get to have a sleepover tonight.”
Her big blue eyes widen to startling proportions as she clenches her little fists tightly. “Yes!”she squeals, attracting the attention of our fellow patrons.
The look of glee on her face almost makes up for the fact that my next job is going to be with a woman that I’m mentally picturing as the sea witch fromThe Little Mermaid.
I stare at Dakota’s smile that’s so big, her eyes cinch closed.
Ah, who am I kidding? That smile definitely makes up for a date with Ursula.
chapter 5
Sora
Dad’s at least two shades darker than I remember. The last time I saw him was six months ago during the holidays. He’s been bouncing back and forth from California to New York, ever since he signed on as a writer and executive producer for his series film adaptation.
I thought for sure we were ready to retire our birthday tradition. I’m not a kid anymore, but the older I get, the harder he seems to hold on to the past. He hopped on a six-hour flight just to take me to dinner, the night before my actual birthday, at this hoity-toity restaurant. I mentioned to him last year that I always wanted to eat at The Gilded Perch but couldn’t afford to. He’s been planning this…for an entire year.
“You look good, Dad.Tan.The Hollywood sun suits you.”
He huffs with disdain. “The only time I’m in the sun is the walk from the writers’ room to my car. California is too damn sunny.”
I meet his grouchy reply with a doe-eyed smile. “Writers’ room,” I muse softly. “Please tell me all about it. And I mean every single detail. What’s it like?”
“It’s like work,” he answers dryly.
“No, I mean being in an actual studio’s writers’ room. You’re working with some of the best screenwriters in the industry. I know screenwriters and novelists have different crafts, but that’s still a hell of a lot of writing talent in one room. What are the conversations like?” Exhaling a slow breath, I try to calm down. I am about ten seconds away from drooling at the notion of writing a book so revered, Hollywood is fighting over the film adaptation. My dad is living my wildest dreams.
“It’s a lot of chattering monkeys mincing my words is what it is.” He waves off the conversation. “But I don’t want to talk shop on your birthday.”
“My birthday is tomorrow,” I mumble in a weak excuse, but it’s no use. This is how Dad always is. He’s so tight-lipped about his job, you’d think he was involved in wet work for the CIA.
Accepting defeat, I show him a begrudging smile before poking my fork into a small piece of my garlic-herb-crusted barramundi. Quick mental math tells me this fish is about six dollars a bite. I chew slowly, savoring the luxury that only my dad’s wallet can afford.
The servers are all wearing black from head to toe, except for their white gloves. It’s like mimes are walking around replacing every sip of water I take the second my glass leaves my lips and hits the table. There’s great service, then there’s table stalking, and I fear The Gilded Perch is toeing the line.
“Why are you chewing like that? Is the fish bad?” He already has two fingers in the air, flagging down a mime.
