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Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The other Woman: a short-short- What do you think she should do next

Hi I am Cherie, Can I get you anything before we began? She asked.
I stared at her she had to be about 5’6 but she stood at least 5’11 over my 5’4 frame thanks to stiletto hills. I had expected her hair to flow down her back, similar to mine. Instead she wore a short page boy cut. Her make-up looked professionally done, yet too much for her skinny jeans and white tee-shirt that revealed a modelesque figure. She had curves and hips yet she could not have been more than a size 4. Her smile revealed perfect white teeth, obviously braced crowned and bleached. I would know, in a former life I was a dental hygienist.
“No, I am fine. Thank you.” I responded stiffly. I could feel the emotion growing in my heart and mind. My body was quivering. She looked alarmed because a woman my age should not be this nervous about the job I was pretending to interview for. Cherie is a broadcast journalist, turned movie star purely by accident. I am here today to interview as her new publicist. I can’t even remember what the resume says that she is sitting across from me looking over. I had hoped we would meet at her home instead she chose an hotel suite. I am pondering my response to her first question. Should I come out with it or pretend to want to know her more. My name proceeds me in this town and she knows who I am, and what I can do. I wonder if she knows more.
“You look ill, darling. We can reschedule if you’re not at your best, because I need someone at their best to represent me. If you have done your homework then you know I got this role as a humbug and the movie has done so well that I am able to write my own ticket. I need someone who knows how to plan my career. Can you extend my fifteen minutes? Do you see movie star in me? That is all I really want to know?” she said with a delicate smile.
I swallowed hard. "If you promise to stop fucking my husband I can see to it that we not only extend the fifteen minutes but make it a lifetime of success." I stated matter-of-factly, and smiled. Truth is she has the potential she just needs polishing and pushing. Although, I could never take her as a client, I think she can make it.
"What? Brock is married to a literary agent and we are in love. She is old and sick and..."
“I am not just a literary agent and do I look old or sick? I know Jock promised to leave me. That is why I am here. His name is Jock not Brock he tells people that shit so they won’t tie him to me. Check your latest red carpet line-up it’s him with a different hair color. My husband is a ladies man and it appears that he may have made the very severe mistake of falling in love with you. I have worked too hard to give him half of any of my empire, and one day you could understand what I mean. Can you imagine working this hard and having to share it with someone that was only along for the ride?"
She sat there looking at me like she had seen a ghost. She sat back and tried to pretend to have a real brain. I continued.
"He thinks that you are in love as well and the truth is, I don’t care either way. We have problems but eventually you and he will too. So before he realizes the grass is never greener I want this to end and now. You are a child with meager talent and a whole hell of a lot of luck that will take you far here, but you won’t go with my husband! Are we clear?” I forced the thoughts of him telling me he didn’t love me anymore out of my head.
Look I am sorry you came down here to embarrass yourself, but you need to leave. She said calmly, more like a real woman than a bimbo.

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