Read Online Unscripted by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz
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Abby.”
“Hi, this is Michelle Lewis from Rowles and Basset Relations, I have Sasha Leeds for you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck. Why is this crazy bitch calling me?
“So what is this letter to Luke about?” Sasha asks, her voice snapping with impatience.
“Hey, Sasha. We were hoping he might want to talk about his guest appearance on Trauma One. We’re devoting a whole segment to ABT’s special guest stars.” Why did I answer the phone?
“Right. While I’m sure that it’s always been Luke’s dream to appear in a clip show, he’s a little busy directing and starring in a feature right now.”
Thanks for the sarcasm, wench.
I should just say “okay” and hang up. But for some perverse reason I want to push it with her. “I know he’s busy but we only need ten minutes and we can do the interview at a time and place of his choosing.”
Sasha laughs snidely. “I’ll tell you what. Luke will do it.”
Huh-what?
“For fifty-thousand dollars. I can manage ten minutes for fifty-thousand dollars. O-kayeee?”
“All righty then. I guess that’s a no. Well, thanks for calling.” Jesus, I sound like Mary Fucking Poppins.
As usual, Sasha hangs up without saying goodbye.
“Now that’s why I didn’t want my name on the letter.” Christine smiles as she rocks back in her chair.
Chapter Six
When I arrive home, I find Zoë on the phone, blabbering like a fifteen-year-old girl. She’s obviously keyed up about something, but after a day of phone calls and divas all I want to do is drown my sorrows in whatever chocolate I can find in the kitchen.
As I pour myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, I hear snippets of Zoë’s animated conversation in the living room.
“I know can you believe it? I’m so excited. I had to grease the wheels a bit, but he did ask. But really we love each other so why wait any longer, right? No, we haven’t set a date yet, but I’m thinking July.”
At the mention of setting a date, the spoon slips out of my hand and directly into my bowl, splashing chocolaty so-so-ness all over my white hoodie. “Fuck,” I mumble. But instead of grabbing a paper towel, I shove my head out of the arched kitchen doorway and into the living room.
I widen my eyes and shrug my shoulders into a silent question mark. Zoë holds up one finger and starts flipping through her calendar. “We can swing by Barney’s over the weekend. I’ll give you all the details then. Okay, I’ve got to run. Abby just came in and I’ve got to tell her the news. Yep. Sounds good. Okay, bye.”
Zoë hangs up the phone and stares at me. I take a deep breath.
“We’re engaged!” Zoë cries, slamming her perfectly manicured hands down on the couch. “Jeff and I are going to get married!”
I know I have to pretend that I’m thrilled, but to be honest, Zoë is the actress here, not me. “Oh my God, that’s amazing. Tell me what happened,” I say, clandestinely swallowing the growing lump in my throat.
“Well, I told him I wasn’t getting any younger, and that I wanted to get married. I also told him if he wasn’t ready, then I wasn’t going to take that crap and wait around. I basically said I was going to start dating other guys.”
“And he obviously took it well,” I reply, biting back a judgmental tone.
“Not exactly. He kind of yelled at me for backing him into a corner and stormed out. But he called me about four hours later and said that he didn’t want me to date anyone else and so if I wanted to get engaged, we’d get engaged.”
How romantic. This certainly wasn’t the Lizzie/Darcy moment Zoë had been dreaming of since she read Pride and Prejudice in the eleventh grade. Without even thinking, I shake my head and frown.
“What? You’re not happy for me?” she asks, her smile fading.
“No, no. I’m totally happy for you.” Even though you’ve completely settled for a pseudo proposal from a guy who you have just blackmailed into marriage. “I was just shaking my head because I’m
“Hi, this is Michelle Lewis from Rowles and Basset Relations, I have Sasha Leeds for you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck. Why is this crazy bitch calling me?
“So what is this letter to Luke about?” Sasha asks, her voice snapping with impatience.
“Hey, Sasha. We were hoping he might want to talk about his guest appearance on Trauma One. We’re devoting a whole segment to ABT’s special guest stars.” Why did I answer the phone?
“Right. While I’m sure that it’s always been Luke’s dream to appear in a clip show, he’s a little busy directing and starring in a feature right now.”
Thanks for the sarcasm, wench.
I should just say “okay” and hang up. But for some perverse reason I want to push it with her. “I know he’s busy but we only need ten minutes and we can do the interview at a time and place of his choosing.”
Sasha laughs snidely. “I’ll tell you what. Luke will do it.”
Huh-what?
“For fifty-thousand dollars. I can manage ten minutes for fifty-thousand dollars. O-kayeee?”
“All righty then. I guess that’s a no. Well, thanks for calling.” Jesus, I sound like Mary Fucking Poppins.
As usual, Sasha hangs up without saying goodbye.
“Now that’s why I didn’t want my name on the letter.” Christine smiles as she rocks back in her chair.
Chapter Six
When I arrive home, I find Zoë on the phone, blabbering like a fifteen-year-old girl. She’s obviously keyed up about something, but after a day of phone calls and divas all I want to do is drown my sorrows in whatever chocolate I can find in the kitchen.
As I pour myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, I hear snippets of Zoë’s animated conversation in the living room.
“I know can you believe it? I’m so excited. I had to grease the wheels a bit, but he did ask. But really we love each other so why wait any longer, right? No, we haven’t set a date yet, but I’m thinking July.”
At the mention of setting a date, the spoon slips out of my hand and directly into my bowl, splashing chocolaty so-so-ness all over my white hoodie. “Fuck,” I mumble. But instead of grabbing a paper towel, I shove my head out of the arched kitchen doorway and into the living room.
I widen my eyes and shrug my shoulders into a silent question mark. Zoë holds up one finger and starts flipping through her calendar. “We can swing by Barney’s over the weekend. I’ll give you all the details then. Okay, I’ve got to run. Abby just came in and I’ve got to tell her the news. Yep. Sounds good. Okay, bye.”
Zoë hangs up the phone and stares at me. I take a deep breath.
“We’re engaged!” Zoë cries, slamming her perfectly manicured hands down on the couch. “Jeff and I are going to get married!”
I know I have to pretend that I’m thrilled, but to be honest, Zoë is the actress here, not me. “Oh my God, that’s amazing. Tell me what happened,” I say, clandestinely swallowing the growing lump in my throat.
“Well, I told him I wasn’t getting any younger, and that I wanted to get married. I also told him if he wasn’t ready, then I wasn’t going to take that crap and wait around. I basically said I was going to start dating other guys.”
“And he obviously took it well,” I reply, biting back a judgmental tone.
“Not exactly. He kind of yelled at me for backing him into a corner and stormed out. But he called me about four hours later and said that he didn’t want me to date anyone else and so if I wanted to get engaged, we’d get engaged.”
How romantic. This certainly wasn’t the Lizzie/Darcy moment Zoë had been dreaming of since she read Pride and Prejudice in the eleventh grade. Without even thinking, I shake my head and frown.
“What? You’re not happy for me?” she asks, her smile fading.
“No, no. I’m totally happy for you.” Even though you’ve completely settled for a pseudo proposal from a guy who you have just blackmailed into marriage. “I was just shaking my head because I’m
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