Page 19 of Hot Mess

“I saw she got you cornered at one point. What did she want anyway?”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “She wanted me to set her up—”

“Please no. She is not my type.”

“Ego much? Not you, dumbass, your agent. She wants a cable series. I guess she’s trying to move away from rom coms.”

“I thought rom-coms were lucrative.” Not that I had ever been in any. I didn’t have the right pretty-boy looks that the industry typically wanted. My looks were on the rough side. I hadn’t grown into my looks until I hit my mid-thirties, and by then I was too old for standard rom-con casting. And my career had taken a different direction. I was barbarian king material, not the quirky love interest.

“She’s getting to be of a certain age. Too old to be considered the ‘It’ girl, and not old enough to be a matriarch.”

I grimaced. Hollywood was cruel. It demanded certain looks. Marci was fresh-faced, and though a little wild, they loved her. The same features that improved my employability as a rugged man, crow's feet, laugh lines were someone like Marci’s worst enemy.

“As long as I don't have to sit next to her at Kathleen’s big client dinner parties, why not? Good luck to her.” I pushed to my feet. “And good luck to you navigating that.”

I wandered out of his office. I pulled the photo I stole out of my pocket. Two skinny Ishtarias smiled at the camera, a third one looked over her shoulder. Behind them, looking off to the side, stood Kayla. The photo had that look of trying to get a picture with someone without them knowing about it. They didn’t even have the decency to invite her into their group picture, and she was the prettiest of them all.

I pulled out my phone and tried to call Kayla again.

9

KAYLA

Ilooked at Nick’s texts. He sent more than one. I was nothing but a coward.

How could I face him after that fiasco? He saw me naked.

I wanted to die. He had been so sweet, and his kisses had been pure magic, but then he saw me naked.

How could I ever face him again?

I never wanted him to see me that way.

I couldn’t get out of Los Angeles fast enough.

Somehow, Uncle Dave asking me if I had fun and not actually paying attention that I had been crying made it all the worse.

I was on an airplane home the very next morning.

It had been almost a week, and I still felt humiliated. I sat on my bed; I was still hiding from the world. At least Nick stopped trying to call me. What was I supposed to say to him? How could I talk to him after he saw me naked? How could I look him in the eye knowing he had to be thinking about that night?

“Kayla, honey, are you going to come out of your room today?”

“No Mom, I still don’t feel good.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay and let your uncle take care of you if you weren’t feeling good,” Mom said. She brought me a tray with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a glass of ginger-ale.

It’s what she always gave me when I wasn’t feeling good. It didn’t matter if I was sick or having cramps, Mom made soup.

She placed her hand on my forehead. “I don’t think you’re running a fever.”

I shrugged. I didn’t know how to tell her I wasn’t sick. I was mortified. I was embarrassed. I had run away because Los Angeles felt like drowning in a world of bright lights and passive-aggressive comments about my weight.

“Hey, hey,” Amber came into my room. “Hey Mrs. G. I’m here to entertain the invalid.”

She jumped next to me on my bed, crossing her feet at the ankles, and just barely keeping her shoes off my blankets.

Much to my mom’s annoyance, Amber had decided years ago that my home was her home, and she just walked in whenever she came over. Mom never asked her not to do it. She just let it bother her.

---