Page 32 of Take It Till You Make It
I swallow. “So, goths can’t be smart, intuitive, or funny?”
He rubs a hand down his face. “Gah, I cannot win, can I?”
“I’m going with no.” I pause before taking my next bite. “I do appreciate the self-deprecation, though. Nice touch.” I raise my food to toast him.
His eyes sparkle as he watches me chow my fajita.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning,I call Glory on my way to the studio again. I bring her up to speed on my tumultuous yesterday, and she cheers aloud when I tell her that Crispin and I seem to have found some sort of common ground.
“Now you can date him,” she says.
“Dude, he’s like twenty-two. Why would he date me? I can’t even drink legally.”
Glory’s voice gentles. “You won’t even drink when you are legal.”
“True.” I stare at the hazy horizon as I sit in traffic. Los Angeles is experiencing a heatwave. It’s 6:42 in the morning, and it’s already seventy-two degrees outside. The mountains in the distance that were a pretty green when I first moved here have large spots of yellow as the grasses die off for the summer. The sky is an endless swatch of blue, but it isn’t the electric blue of home. It’s just a washed-out version of it. “I wish you could come to the beach with me. Not that I’m supposed to get a tan or do anything that will change my appearance during filming…”
“They can’t tell you what to do.”
I laugh. “Uh, yeah, they can. My makeup artist, Remi, spends over an hour every day making me look thirteen again.”
Glory snorts. “You always look thirteen.”
“She says I have some worldly or mature look to my face. It’s pretty strange to watch the process. First, she removes all my distinguishing features, then she puts most of them back the way they are naturally, but with subtle changes to my nose, eyebrows, and cheeks.”
“Your nose? How does your nose make you look thirteen?”
“Oh,” I snort. “That’s just to make me look more like Chandra and Sally.”
“They really are related, huh? I was reading about the cast.”
“They are. I feel like I got really lucky to be working with such kind people. You hear horror stories about the people in Hollywood, and not even Crispin Moore is the nightmare I thought he was originally.”
“Date him. Date him. Date him,” Glory chants.
“So not going to happen, Glory. I’m jailbait to him.”
She blows a raspberry. “Only for like another month.”
“Seven weeks.”
“Date him. Date him. Date him.”
I laugh as I pull into a parking spot at the studio. “I love you and wish you were here, but I gotta go.”
“Have a great time dating Crispin Moore today!” Glory yells.
“Goodbye!” I sing-song.
When I climb out of my car, I’m grinning. I shoulder my bag and head toward the entrance.
“Belly!” T calls. I haven’t seen him since that first day.
I laugh. “You know my name isn’t Belly, right?” He looks so confused, I have to laugh more. “Call me Ari.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. My nephew and I always call you Belly when we talk about you.”
