Bittersweet Read Free Page B

wipe their ass with those things?” I reply, and she grunts in mild irritation.
    “I’m prepping. I’m expecting more ladies coming into the salon wanting to pretty themselves up for the Hollywood types,” she says, grinning ironically. I laugh.
    “Hungry?” I gesture toward the take-out from the restaurant I’ve left on the counter. We hardly ever cook. “You’ll have to heat it up though—I had to walk about a mile out of my way because they’re setting up for filming over on Bakersfield.”
    “Ooh, really? It’s getting closer!”
    I should have known my inconvenience would only elicit excitement from Max. She jumps up and heads toward the kitchen to heat up the food. “You know what, I saw more trucks this afternoon too. And word is they’re starting to rent out places for the cast and crew. They must be arriving soon, huh?”
    I sit up a little to see her over the kitchen island from the couch. “Yeah. Matter of fact, I ran into some guy just now who must be production crew or whatever, asking for directions to the hotel. Real tall guy. He kind of had an arrogant New York thing going on, you know? I mean, he called the Fairview ‘ rustic. ’ It seemed like he just expected women to be a certain way around him? And he was, like … tall. And his teeth were real straight, like, why do they all seem to have had crazy amounts of dental—”
    “He was tall , huh?” Max leans over the counter and pulls a face at me, and I know I’m blushing.
    “Anyway,” I say, trying to move on. “I can’t imagine Johnny Lincoln or Bethany Wheeler—”
    “Bethany Keeler ,” Maxine corrects me. “God, Cathy! She was only ‘one of our country’s brightest child-stars, now looking to break out of her cutesy image with what’s sure to be TV’s newest hit…’”
    “Are you quoting Entertainment Weekly articles at me again?” We both laugh. “As I was saying, I can’t picture any fancy LA actors staying at the Fairview, so I guess they better figure out their accommodation soon.” I sigh. “Jeez, it’s like an invasion .”
    Maxine brings the food over and sets the plates down on the coffee table. “Uh, exaggerating,” she says sternly. “Besides, I don’t get why you’re so against the whole thing. Without the show filming here, you wouldn’t get sexy, tall production crew guys asking you for directions.”
    “I never said he was sexy.”
    Max fixes my gaze with a devilish grin. “You didn’t have to…”

Chapter Three
    My eyelids drift open lazily, and for a split second I panic, realizing I haven’t heard the screech of the alarm Carl got me for my birthday two years ago. That thing would raise the dead. But my heart rate slows again as I remember two glorious words: day off. I let my eyes close again, but then remember why I’d put my running shoes right next to the bed. It’s been three weeks since my last workout, but I decided last night to stop using the excuse that I’m on my feet all day. Even though I probably cover five miles in the restaurant every shift, I know a run will be worth the endorphin boost, even if a few hours extra sleep sounds very appealing right now.
    I force myself out of bed and into the bathroom, washing my face quickly with cold water and brushing my teeth, then attempting to drag a hairbrush through the long dark tangles that pass for my hair, pulling it into a high ponytail. I glance out the window at the already-bright sunshine, but it’s not even nine yet—the curse of being used to getting up early; anything past six a.m. feels like sleeping in. But I figure it’s early, so it can’t be too hot, right? I pull on some stretch running shorts, wrestle myself into a sports bra, and pull on the University of Virginia tee I got at the store when I visited the campus in senior year, stifling a sigh at what could have been as I check my reflection.
    Still, I jog down the stairs and out of our building actually feeling pretty good. I was wrong about the heat