Read Online Craving Perfect by Liz Fichera - Free Book Online Page B

directing everyone’s attention to road kill.
    Go on? Go on what? I was afraid of the answer. The deep ache in the lower part of my stomach—a combination of nerves and hunger—grew sharper.
    I glanced at myself in the bright mirror. Sure, Callie’s hair was a little damp from the shower but I thought Callie was beautiful. Her shiny blond tresses could sell shampoo. Nothing a little blow-dry wouldn’t fix. As I reached for the blow-dryer, I was stopped in midair by the make-up girl’s glare.
    My hand pulled back.
    “Well, you tell your roommate that I called,” Alexandra spat into her phone. “And I am not happy.” She paused, her chest still heaving. “Who am I? I’m Callie Collins’s assistant, that’s who.”
    My assistant? My eyebrow arched at the news. Maybe this dream isn’t so bad after all…
    Alexandra looked over at me and placed her hand over her phone. “Can you believe these freaking idiots?” she hissed, clearly expecting my complete agreement.
    I nodded numbly. But then I leaned back in my chair and for the first time all morning I sighed contentedly. Never in a million years would I have dreamed a dream this good. Alexandra Summers was my assistant?
    If only Alexandra knew who I really was. I air-chuckled behind my hand, inhaling nail polish. Then I had to bite my lower lip to suppress a grin. Sadly, the blissful moment was only temporary.
    “Miss Collins, you’re on in five,” a twentysomething guy with a clipboard called out from the doorway to my dressing room. He raised his hand to reveal all five of his fingers, as if I required more explanation on the number. All of the tension flooded back to my shoulders and my face went all white chocolate in the mirror. And it had nothing to do with the unexpected arithmetic lesson.
    Without a word, the make-up girl quickly stroked another layer of blush across my cheekbones with her soft brush.
    I was going to need it. I was as white as whipped cream, a rich delicacy I probably didn’t taste much in this dream.
     
    “We’re live in three…two…one…” a man with a beard said inches from my face as I sat frozen behind an oval table.
    Just like the twentysomething guy with the clipboard, Bearded Guy counted down with his fingers, holding them straight in front of him. It was like being on the set of Sesame Street. Big Bird was explaining addition and subtraction.
    Never mind that it had taken both Bearded Guy and Alexandra to coax me onto the chair in front of all the cameras. I only complied because Alexandra dug her nails into my forearm, almost drawing blood, as she pulled me all the way from the dressing room.
    “It’s obvious that I’m not waking up,” I mumbled semi-incoherently as Alexandra dropped me into the anchor desk chair.
    “What the hell are you talking about, Callie.” She stood back, confused and irritated, her hands on her hips. “You’ve wanted this spot for months. You begged for it. This is your big chance…don’t blow it now.”
    “I have? I did?” My whole body began to shake, starting with my shoulders. It was as though there was an earthquake beneath my feet.
    Alexandra narrowed her eyes. She just shook her head and then walked away behind the cameras, leaving me alone under about one hundred hot lights and at least four cameras. I finally knew what it was like to be inside a convection oven.
    Put a fork in me, I’m done! I screamed inside as people and cameras swirled around me.
    “And we’re live!” Bearded Guy thundered, pointing his forefinger at me. He nodded his head and flashed an encouraging smile.
    His smile quickly faded when my mouth opened but nothing came out. He pointed to the teleprompter as my eyes widened. He pulled at his beard, waiting. Watching.
    No one in the studio made the slightest sound. No one even breathed while I squinted at the words scrawling across the teleprompter, something about breaking news in Glendale, a robbery, maybe a drug bust. The glare from all the lights