Not in the Script Read Free

read some of this, but not all. “Everyone knows what a great actor Brett is—he’s been nominated for major awards since he was
five
,” I say. “He’s probably just burned out, and McGregor is smart enough to realize he’ll push through it.”
    â€œYeah, I guess I can see that. But back to the girl issues,” Rachel replies and tacks on a sly smile. “You know what Brett’s problem is? He just hasn’t dated the
right
girl yet.”
    I toss a pillow at her. “The last thing I want to be is Brett Crawford’s next ‘throwaway party favor,’ so don’t look at
me
,” I say. Then I make a silent promise to put soap in my mouth for quoting a tabloid. Reporters tell plenty of lies about my own life, so I question everything I read, but I’ve seen enough myself to know that every once in a while they’re surprisingly dead-on. In their pursuit of a quick, juicy story to sell, however, gossipmongers often miss the details that could
really
damage someone. “It’s just that this is all sort of sad,” I go on. “Brett has always been someone safe for me to crush on, but now—”
    Rachel cuts me off with laughter. “Oh please! You
know
what’s gonna happen. Brett will fall head over heels in love and change his whole life to be with you. So just flirt a little and see where things go.”
    â€œNo way,” I reply. She might understand if I told her how bad things got with Troy, but I can’t take the chance of Rachel tellingTrina, who would go straight to my mom. Then Mom would freak out even more about me living on my own in Arizona, which is something I’ve had to fight for every day for the past few months. “I just need to get over Brett before we start working together. That’s all. Or he’ll be … well, a bit of a distraction.”
    â€œMore like a tall, beautiful problem with a killer smile.” Rachel turns back to her wall to swoon over The Bod in a western-themed cologne ad for Armani. “I can only imagine how distracted I’d be if I ever worked with
my
dream guy. Distracted by his perfectly toned arms, and his amazing green eyes, and his luscious mocha hair, and … gosh, I better not talk him up
too
much, or you’ll want to start a collection of your own. But The Bod is all mine, got it?”
    I probably sound just as ridiculous as Rachel does when I talk about Brett—I mean, when I
used
to talk about Brett—but I laugh anyway. “Yep, he’s all yours,” I reply. “Down to his last curly eyelash.”
    I have to agree with Rachel on one thing, though: The Bod, whoever he is, makes leather cowboy chaps look seriously hot.

Jake

    Chill, Jake, this is temporary
, I tell myself as I pace outside Steve McGregor’s production office in Tucson. If I get this job, I’ll be locked into a four-year contract, but most TV shows bomb before then, so I might get out of it early.
    For now, it’s a perfect solution.
    Coyote Hills
will be filming less than two hours from my hometown of Phoenix, and the guilt has been killing me, being so far away all the time. If anything else happens at home—if things get worse—I can be there. And acting seems to be the quickest way I can ditch this pretty-boy modeling crap and keep making the money I need.
    Still, I thought my agent was crazy when she said I should give it a try. “I got a B-minus in drama,” I warned her. “I couldn’t even memorize a one-minute monologue.”
    â€œTrust me, Jake, you’ll be better than you think,” Liz hadreplied. “Acting isn’t just an ability to recite lines. It’s a talent for letting go of what your mind is telling you about reality and allowing the instincts of a character to take over. In that way, it’s exactly like modeling.”
    I’d started to question that, but then I got her point. If standing around for