Page 4 of Friends with Benefits

Dance is who Evie was.

Until she wasn’t.

Until shecouldn’t.

Evie and Imogen stay glued in their seats for the credits to see the nameEvelyn Bloomunder the Foley department. It’s the credit that Evie believes will jump-start her career, the credit she listed on the union application that’s currently pending. If approved, she can begin to take on more work. In the union, she’ll be paid guaranteed minimums and not be lowballed as most early-career freelancers are. In the union, she’ll havehealth benefits that will free her from the Pro Tools life. Benefits that cover the appointments, the screenings, the medications necessary to manage her chronic illness.

The credits roll.

Evie waits to see her name.

Waits.

And waits.

And—

“What the fuck?” Imogen snarls at the credit.

Foley artist: Ross Snyder

As quickly as it appears, it’s gone, and Evie’s eyes sting as if she’s been slapped. She knows Ross is an asshole, but she thought he was at least an asshole with integrity. But of course, he’s just another man in the industry more than happy to take credit for a woman’s work. She bled forGinger. She deserved this credit.

She needed it.

Her union application is going to be rejected without it.

Evie’s stomach cramps, a dull pain shooting through her lower abdomen, reminding her that the dream that felt so close to possible just two hours ago is once again very much not.

“Ev—”

“Can we go home?”

Ross just… erased her fromGinger. Tonight was supposed to be good. Working for Ross Snyder was the worst six months of Evie’s life, but tonight was meant to be proof that his exploiting her passion for unpaid labor was worth it.

Evie exits the theater biting the inside of her cheek so she doesn’t burst into furious tears.

Fuck Ross.

Fuck passions.

Fuck.

This.

2

“Mr. Cohen’s winner pick didn’t even make the jury!”

Theo Cohen’s fourth graders erupt inoohs and giggle at his humiliating loss. Every day, he’s humbled by a scathing drag delivered by one of his students—be it the way he walks, the color of his shirt, or the total embarrassment of losing yourSurvivorwinner pick pre-jury.

Theo covers his ears. “Milo! Spoilers!”

“It’s okay, Mr. Cohen,” Jeremiah says. “We voted for an amendment to the spoiler rule.”

Theo raises a single eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yep!” Sierra confirms, with a chipped neon-pink nail polish thumbs-up.

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