Page 19 of Little Gray Dress

“Ridiculous. I told Daddy that I could do so much more than this. I should not have ruined that contact with E! for my own show.”

Morgan and I exchange glances wondering what planet this girl thinks she’s on. Not that I have any doubt, what-so-ever, that she’s perfect for the E! channel. She has that Kardashian vibe.

“This will be fun,” I reassure her, hoping that the diva in her stays away long enough for me to shoot this commercial.

“Whatever. Where’s the dressing room? I need to touch up my makeup.”

A laugh suddenly escapes my throat, causing Morgan to start coughing to cover it up.

“We don’t have an actual dressing room, but the bathroom is down the hall to the right and it’s really nice.” Her face stays stone-still and her eyes never leave my own. “I can show you? But in all honesty, you already look amazing.”

That brings a small smile to her face.

“I’ll take your word for it.” She flashes an obviously fake smile and glances around the room. “Who decorated this?” she suddenly asks. The decorators, caterers, and employees are still here, tirelessly working getting the place ready for the party that starts in less than an hour.

I made sure it looked Christmassy since we are also shooting a commercial tonight. There are six eight-foot-tall Christmas trees around the room, fully decorated, loaded with fake presents. Garlands and twinkle lights hang from the ceiling, and the tables have centerpieces that would make a Christmas bride jealous. It’s truly gorgeous, and cost far more than I would ever, ever pay myself.

“We hired a company,” I say, grabbing the list of questions I made up for her.

“They did an OK job.” She glances over at the bartender. “I’m going to just grab a drink.”

“Greta—” I rush to her side, hoping getting trashed is not on her agenda. “I actually have a list of questions I need you to look over.”

“I already know what I’m going to ask.” She waves my paper away and beelines to the bar.

Five minute ago she asked what character she needed to play and yet suddenly she’s prepared with questions she didn’t even know she had to ask? I find that more than hard to believe.

“This is gonna be a nightmare.” Morgan stands at my side watching her sashay her tiny ass to the bar and immediately flirt with the bartender who seems mesmerized by the spell that is Greta Mayfair.

“Hi, babe.” Jack leans in and kisses my cheek.

He’s here right on time, but since I’m a tad pre-occupied with not bringing out the evil from within Greta I don’t even have a minute to spend with him like I’d planned.

“I’m so sorry I have to work during this.”

“It’s no problem. Did you get something to eat?” he asks me, being the great boyfriend that he is.

“I haven’t. You should, though.” I’m starving, so knowing that I might not have time to eat, from the menu that I worked so hard to get perfect, is irritating to say the least.

“I’ll bring you a plate. How about you?” he asks Morgan, who shrugs his shoulders before glancing at me for permission.

“I can always eat.” Morgan is my favorite camera guy because he’s the most honest guy I’ve met. When you ask him a question you’d better really want the truthful answer, because he will give it to you.

“I’ll be right back.” Jack heads in the direction of the buffet.

“Greta.” I approach her at the bar. “We need to get started. Maybe just work the room and start asking questions about people’s New Year’s resolutions.”

Greta glares at me. “What’sh your name again?” she slurs, almost knocking me over with the smell of liquor on her breath. I’d say she’s drank as much as possible as quickly as possible in the last thirty minutes, and is now the most flammable thing in the entire room.

“Oh my God, she’s drunk. I am so getting fired,” I mumble. I don’t know why, it’s not like she’s sober enough to comprehend much. “Emi is my name. Do you think you can still do the commercial?”

“Of course, I can, I’m a professional actress and model. Why would you even ask that?” She stands, stumbling just a bit on her stripper heels. “You worry about the cameras and I’ll do the rest.”

“Perfect,” I say, hoping she’s too drunk to notice the condescending tone in my voice. I turn to Morgan who starts filming. “Just start following her around I guess.”

“This is going to be epic.”

I glare at him. “Stop. It’s going to be fine.” I hope. If nothing else, at least we’ll have a potential viral video on our hands.

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