angrily before I could rein them in.
"Lowell, you sound like a child who isn't getting her way," Shirley said, her tone a warning.
"This isn't a temper tantrum." I got up and paced even though moving hurt my head. "All I'm saying is—I'm an actor . I take my work seriously. I'm not just a face that may or may not scowl too much, attached to an ass that may or may not look like it weighs too much. There are more important things to worry about, but that's all I ever hear about. It's frustrating, and it's demeaning. Is that too difficult to understand?"
Shirley glowered at me while Tori pretended to read texts on her phone and not listen.
"Yes, that is too difficult to understand," Shirley said. "This is Hollywood. This is the deal. If you want to be paid millions of dollars for your 'craft,' or whatever you want to call it, you have to live with the way things are. You have to deal with people commenting on your face, your weight, your dating status. That's the trade-off."
I sat back down on the bed. "Of course. I know you're right."
"If you want to keep the role you've got right now and ever have the chance of getting another one, you have some serious damage control to do. I'm hiring a PR team to take over from here. I should have done it sooner—I can see that now. You're just about to get to that next level, and I'm not going to kiss all my hard work with you good-bye. We're going to get your image whipped back into shape ASAP."
I felt Shirley studying my face, which I was struggling to keep neutral. I didn't want to cry. I also didn't really want a PR team—I didn't want to admit that my image was out of my control.
I can fix this. I have to fix this. "What do I do?"
"You need to rehabilitate your public image. Immediately," she snapped, grabbing her cell phone and car keys. "You have Lucas to worry about, and you have the premiere for Hearts Wide Open coming up . You need to pull a rabbit out of a hat, Lo. Today. I'm calling my people. They'll figure something out."
"Like what? And where are you going?" I wailed. I needed her help, and she was heading toward the door.
"This business is for the hungry. I'm hungry, Lo. So I'm going back to my office to do some work for clients who don't take me for granted by throwing up all over their careers in public," she called over her shoulder. "The PR team will take care of everything. I'll set up a meeting, and we'll be in touch later today. In the interim, don't do anything stupid."
She slammed the door, and I just sat there, opening and closing my mouth as if I were a stunned guppy.
"She's a little harsh, huh?" Tori asked.
She got up and started organizing my closet, a nervous habit of hers. She was my best friend, but right now, she was doubling as my personal assistant while she was on break from the series where she worked as an apprentice lighting technician. Now that I was paying her to answer my emails, sort through my schedule, and help me keep on top of my finances, she felt the need to constantly be doing something instead of just hanging out. I'd hired her because I trusted her with my life and because she was hyper-organized, but sometimes I just wanted her to sit still. Instead, she was color-coding my closet.
"Shirley's all about tough love," I said.
I could just picture my agent white-knuckling the steering wheel of her Mercedes sedan, barking at another client on her Bluetooth on her way back to her office. She was angry and disappointed, and I couldn't blame her.
I blew out a deep breath. "Wow. I'm really managing to fuck this all up, aren't I?"
"No. You made a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes." Tori continued color-coding my closet. "But we need to think of something, stat. Shirley's mean, but she's got a point."
"I know she does," I said, "but I have no idea how to fix this. I don't want to leave my life up to some PR team I've never worked with. That makes me nervous. I have no idea what they'll have me do."
"You could also just admit
"Lowell, you sound like a child who isn't getting her way," Shirley said, her tone a warning.
"This isn't a temper tantrum." I got up and paced even though moving hurt my head. "All I'm saying is—I'm an actor . I take my work seriously. I'm not just a face that may or may not scowl too much, attached to an ass that may or may not look like it weighs too much. There are more important things to worry about, but that's all I ever hear about. It's frustrating, and it's demeaning. Is that too difficult to understand?"
Shirley glowered at me while Tori pretended to read texts on her phone and not listen.
"Yes, that is too difficult to understand," Shirley said. "This is Hollywood. This is the deal. If you want to be paid millions of dollars for your 'craft,' or whatever you want to call it, you have to live with the way things are. You have to deal with people commenting on your face, your weight, your dating status. That's the trade-off."
I sat back down on the bed. "Of course. I know you're right."
"If you want to keep the role you've got right now and ever have the chance of getting another one, you have some serious damage control to do. I'm hiring a PR team to take over from here. I should have done it sooner—I can see that now. You're just about to get to that next level, and I'm not going to kiss all my hard work with you good-bye. We're going to get your image whipped back into shape ASAP."
I felt Shirley studying my face, which I was struggling to keep neutral. I didn't want to cry. I also didn't really want a PR team—I didn't want to admit that my image was out of my control.
I can fix this. I have to fix this. "What do I do?"
"You need to rehabilitate your public image. Immediately," she snapped, grabbing her cell phone and car keys. "You have Lucas to worry about, and you have the premiere for Hearts Wide Open coming up . You need to pull a rabbit out of a hat, Lo. Today. I'm calling my people. They'll figure something out."
"Like what? And where are you going?" I wailed. I needed her help, and she was heading toward the door.
"This business is for the hungry. I'm hungry, Lo. So I'm going back to my office to do some work for clients who don't take me for granted by throwing up all over their careers in public," she called over her shoulder. "The PR team will take care of everything. I'll set up a meeting, and we'll be in touch later today. In the interim, don't do anything stupid."
She slammed the door, and I just sat there, opening and closing my mouth as if I were a stunned guppy.
"She's a little harsh, huh?" Tori asked.
She got up and started organizing my closet, a nervous habit of hers. She was my best friend, but right now, she was doubling as my personal assistant while she was on break from the series where she worked as an apprentice lighting technician. Now that I was paying her to answer my emails, sort through my schedule, and help me keep on top of my finances, she felt the need to constantly be doing something instead of just hanging out. I'd hired her because I trusted her with my life and because she was hyper-organized, but sometimes I just wanted her to sit still. Instead, she was color-coding my closet.
"Shirley's all about tough love," I said.
I could just picture my agent white-knuckling the steering wheel of her Mercedes sedan, barking at another client on her Bluetooth on her way back to her office. She was angry and disappointed, and I couldn't blame her.
I blew out a deep breath. "Wow. I'm really managing to fuck this all up, aren't I?"
"No. You made a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes." Tori continued color-coding my closet. "But we need to think of something, stat. Shirley's mean, but she's got a point."
"I know she does," I said, "but I have no idea how to fix this. I don't want to leave my life up to some PR team I've never worked with. That makes me nervous. I have no idea what they'll have me do."
"You could also just admit
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