here.
Note to self: Check into getting your own room. ASAP.
“Fine. Do what you can and make it happen. That’s why I pay you the ridiculous amount that I do. Do your job or I’ll find someone else to do it for you,” she says venomously before hanging up the phone.
How does a young woman without a record contract already have “people?” I’ve heard that people who’ve been in this business for years don’t even have their own people. Yet, she seems to have at least one person pulling strings and making calls. She reeks of daddy’s money like her expensive perfume. That’s the only thing I can think of and the only reason why that poor Richard guy wouldn’t have told her to stick it up her manicured ass by now. Daddy must be loaded.
Shawna storms off with a huff and slams the bathroom door, leaving me in pleasant peace. Finally. Lounging in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, I take the opportunity to text my mom again. The thirty-minute phone call after dinner tonight just wasn’t enough. And the worst part of it is that I haven’t even been here fifteen hours and I’m already homesick.
Somewhere between my Facebooking and my channel surfing, the bathroom door finally opens. Shawna looks shower fresh, yet her make-up appears flawless. For bed. She flits by me, completely ignoring my existence. If we both happen to make it to the end, I don’t think I can endure eight more weeks of her ignoring and insulting me around every corner. I decide to strap on my big girl panties and try to be the bigger person.
“So, where are you from?” I ask as the easiest, safest way to break the ice.
“Savannah,” she says after several heartbeats with her perfect southern drawl. The ways she says it, though, is pure annoyance. I’m bothering her.
But I’m not about to let her get away so easily. “I’m from Chicago,” I tell her. I glance over and she blinks several times, but doesn’t so much as look up from the fashion magazine she’s holding. Whoever is on that cover must be the most fascinating person in the world.
“Have you always liked to sing?” I ask, grasping at straws here.
She thumbs through the magazine sitting on her lap and doesn’t even look up. “I’ve always been the best at it. I have natural talent. It has nothing to do with liking it.”
“That’s…awesome,” I reply, stumbling for the right word. Awesome isn’t it, but I can’t seem to put my finger on the right one. I wait several more seconds to see if she’s going to pick up the thread I’m dangling, but it appears that I’m out of luck tonight. Oh well.
I roll over onto my side and stare at the taupe painted wall.
I think about Eli and my mom and the conversation we had earlier. I’d do anything to see them in person instead of through that small phone screen. It’s definitely not the same as being able to physically hug them. But for now, it’ll have to do.
My mind then wanders to our team meeting tomorrow. I have no idea what to expect since we aren’t privy to that behind-the-scenes part of the show when it airs. Besides Beau, I have no idea who will be in attendance. My nerves are high, coursing dangerously through my taut body, as I will myself to relax and sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a big day, and I don’t want to oversleep like the last time. Heaven knows Jezebel Barbie isn’t going to do me any favors and make sure I’m awake.
I check the alarm set on my cell phone one more time and try to find a comfortable position. The sound of deep, dramatic sighs and pages flipping is the last thing I remember as I finally succumb to sleep.
*****
At ten a.m., I meet the rest of the contestants in the main lobby of the hotel. Shawna seems to already have secured a following as several young guys flock to her like groupies at a rock concert. Well, I guess to them, they see her perfect blond hair, her pristine make-up, and her stylish wardrobe. Throw in her killer body with just the right
Note to self: Check into getting your own room. ASAP.
“Fine. Do what you can and make it happen. That’s why I pay you the ridiculous amount that I do. Do your job or I’ll find someone else to do it for you,” she says venomously before hanging up the phone.
How does a young woman without a record contract already have “people?” I’ve heard that people who’ve been in this business for years don’t even have their own people. Yet, she seems to have at least one person pulling strings and making calls. She reeks of daddy’s money like her expensive perfume. That’s the only thing I can think of and the only reason why that poor Richard guy wouldn’t have told her to stick it up her manicured ass by now. Daddy must be loaded.
Shawna storms off with a huff and slams the bathroom door, leaving me in pleasant peace. Finally. Lounging in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, I take the opportunity to text my mom again. The thirty-minute phone call after dinner tonight just wasn’t enough. And the worst part of it is that I haven’t even been here fifteen hours and I’m already homesick.
Somewhere between my Facebooking and my channel surfing, the bathroom door finally opens. Shawna looks shower fresh, yet her make-up appears flawless. For bed. She flits by me, completely ignoring my existence. If we both happen to make it to the end, I don’t think I can endure eight more weeks of her ignoring and insulting me around every corner. I decide to strap on my big girl panties and try to be the bigger person.
“So, where are you from?” I ask as the easiest, safest way to break the ice.
“Savannah,” she says after several heartbeats with her perfect southern drawl. The ways she says it, though, is pure annoyance. I’m bothering her.
But I’m not about to let her get away so easily. “I’m from Chicago,” I tell her. I glance over and she blinks several times, but doesn’t so much as look up from the fashion magazine she’s holding. Whoever is on that cover must be the most fascinating person in the world.
“Have you always liked to sing?” I ask, grasping at straws here.
She thumbs through the magazine sitting on her lap and doesn’t even look up. “I’ve always been the best at it. I have natural talent. It has nothing to do with liking it.”
“That’s…awesome,” I reply, stumbling for the right word. Awesome isn’t it, but I can’t seem to put my finger on the right one. I wait several more seconds to see if she’s going to pick up the thread I’m dangling, but it appears that I’m out of luck tonight. Oh well.
I roll over onto my side and stare at the taupe painted wall.
I think about Eli and my mom and the conversation we had earlier. I’d do anything to see them in person instead of through that small phone screen. It’s definitely not the same as being able to physically hug them. But for now, it’ll have to do.
My mind then wanders to our team meeting tomorrow. I have no idea what to expect since we aren’t privy to that behind-the-scenes part of the show when it airs. Besides Beau, I have no idea who will be in attendance. My nerves are high, coursing dangerously through my taut body, as I will myself to relax and sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a big day, and I don’t want to oversleep like the last time. Heaven knows Jezebel Barbie isn’t going to do me any favors and make sure I’m awake.
I check the alarm set on my cell phone one more time and try to find a comfortable position. The sound of deep, dramatic sighs and pages flipping is the last thing I remember as I finally succumb to sleep.
*****
At ten a.m., I meet the rest of the contestants in the main lobby of the hotel. Shawna seems to already have secured a following as several young guys flock to her like groupies at a rock concert. Well, I guess to them, they see her perfect blond hair, her pristine make-up, and her stylish wardrobe. Throw in her killer body with just the right
Similar Books
