Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
However, I wasn’t an actor all the time. And though I wasn’t sure why, I felt like I could be myself with Lorenzo. I could be honest and say what I thought instead of reciting canned lines from an internal script. I felt like the real me—whoever that was. If nothing else, it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t seem to want anything from me.
Lorenzo set a refilled bowl in front of me, nudging my knee as he reclaimed his seat. “Sorry. That was TMI on steroids. I’m gonna blame it on the wine.”
“Don’t apologize. For what it’s worth, your ex sounds like a jerk, your parents are blind and…I’m sorry about your grandmother. I’m sorry about Mr. Gowan too. He’s a nice man. But I don’t think you’re anything like him. You’re young, you’re smart, you’re fuckin’ hot. You have your whole life ahead of you, Lo. Don’t go dark. Don’t be sad.”
“I-I’m not,” he stammered.
“Good. Be happy. It makes your enemies crazy. They’ll see you living your best life and wonder what your secret is. They might even regret that they didn’t make the cut.”
Lorenzo cocked his head, a smile ghosting across his full lips. “That’s great advice. Thank you.”
“Meh, it’s not me,” I admitted. “Seb told me that one. He’s not exactly a sage, but he’s savvy as fuck. Like a wily coyote. And every once in a while, he drops some useful wisdom.”
“Sebastian Rourke? He’s your boss, right?”
I took another bite and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I read a headline about you and him a few years ago. You were lovers?”
“We occasionally hooked up,” I replied, managing not to wince. “Nothing serious. He’s happily married now, anyway.”
“Ahh. A Hollywood thing, huh?” He held a hand up before I could confirm or deny. “Aligning yourself with rich, powerful people is probably a good career move.”
“I did not sleep with him to get that role. It just…evolved.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. I sell high-end home goods to wealthy entrepreneurs and entertainers. The more they buy, the bigger my commission. Everyone is in it for gain. Doesn’t matter what your profession is, either. Like I said, my ex dropped my ass in a New York minute to climb the ladder. Money, recognition. We all want to be noticed.” Lo picked up his wine again and tapped his fingers against the glass. “I’ve been rudely monopolizing the conversation for far too long. Your turn. Tell me about yourself.”
I pushed my bowl aside and squinted. “Uh…”
Awkward. I’d held the record for “most googled” celebrity for two years straight. Any stat the public wanted was a click away. My birthdate, hometown, family members, high school photos, theater productions, commercials, dating history…I’d been told most of it was accurate, but I hadn’t checked in years.
The point is…no one usually asked about me because they already knew about me. Or thought they did. I didn’t know how to respond.
Lorenzo seemed to understand. “Tell me something I wouldn’t find on the Internet.”
Oh, good one.
“I hate cauliflower,” I blurted.
He chuckled. “Why? It’s delish.”
“Wrong. It’s terrible. And baked beans are also very fucking gross.”
He widened his eyes playfully as he stacked our bowls. “Shoot. There goes my dessert idea.”
I grabbed a few dishes and followed him to the sink. “Don’t even joke about it. What about you? Most despised food…go.”
“Pickles.”
“Pistachios,” I countered.
“Pumpkin pie. However, I love all things pumpkin spice.”
“Of course you do,” I teased. “I can be down for pumpkin spice, and I love pumpkin pie. Get this, I was so poor my senior year of high school that I used to steal cans of crappy food I figured no one else wanted from the local market. Soup, beans, canned veggies. And yes, pumpkin pie filling.”
He smacked my biceps playfully. “That’s terrible. You were a kleptomaniac?”
“Yeah. I made it right eventually, but those were tough times. The owner caught me one day and let me tell you, I was shitting bricks. I was scared he’d call the police and I’d get thrown in jail.” I cleared the last of the dishes and leaned against the counter, my arms crossed, while Lo rinsed them off.
“That didn’t happen.”
“Nope. Mr. Manowitz called me into the break room and asked what I liked to eat. I was literally shaking in my boots, and I couldn’t think of anything. But it was Thanksgiving time and there were photos of turkeys and all the usual trimmings, so I told him I liked pumpkin pie. He filled a grocery bag with soups and stuff, and…more pumpkin pie filling than anyone should eat in a lifetime.” I rubbed my belly like a greedy kid. “I ate it all.”
Lorenzo made a gagging noise. “Nasty! What did your parents say when you came home with all those groceries?”
“I didn’t live with them that year.”
He closed the dishwasher and did a double take. “Oh. Where did you live?”