My Life, Made Possible By Pop Culture

“Damn flipping shit!”

The outburst is not uncommon– not unexpected– and Courtney does not even glance up from her script, just flips another page pointedly, as Leah throws the latest tabloid on top of her appetizer plate.

“Not in this one either.”

“You’re nuts, you know that?”

Leah sighs dramatically: “Court, you really have to start doing more carpets.  I mean, this is pathetic.  Eva and Hilary make the best dressed every issue, and word on the street–“

“And by street?” Courtney humors her.

“In Touch.  She’s been seen at Crossroads.”  Leah glances around almost suspiciously before hissing: “In the valley.”

Courtney giggles and shakes her head: “Then it must be true.”

Leah just shrugs and pulls out her iPhone to scroll through her calendar while picking at a fried wonton.  Courtney watches her, smirking, as she eats her own salad.  The air around them stirs gently, blowing a few strands of her too-natural auburn hair out of her eyes.  She leans back and closes her eyes momentarily after popping a tomato slice into her mouth.  She smiles as the warm California sun tans her surprisingly pale face.  She must be the only actress– no, make that the only person– in Los Angeles who doesn’t fake and bake.

“Ooh, here it is: this is perfect!”

Courtney almost groans at the interruption but just lets Leah go on.  Once she gets started, there is no stopping her motor mouth.  Courtney learned that the hard way when she attempted to rebut a point in Anthropology 262: things got so heated that Leah flung a compact at her head as the professor winced by the door.  After class, Courtney took Leah to the local coffee house to apologize, and it was there they learned they had mutual aspirations: Courtney wanted to move to Los Angeles to be an actress, and Leah wanted to move to Los Angeles to be photographed partying with the rich and famous.  They’ve been friends ever since.

Leah’s insistent voice snapped Courtney out of her trance: “The Nocturnal Mutiny premiere is tonight!  Vince, Brad, and Matt are supposed to be there.  Get photographed with one of them, and you’re set for a good three weeks.”  As she taps the magazine to emphasize her point, Courtney shakes her head again.

“Yeah, I know.  Marty couldn’t get me tickets to that one.”

“Flipping agents; what good are they?”

Courtney shrugs and takes a sip of water: “It’s no big deal; I have an early call tomorrow.”

“I bet the after party will be just as star-studded.  What do you say?”

Courtney picks up one of the magazines and stares wistfully at the cover, tracing her finger down the side.

“That lust in your eyes I’ll take as a yes.” Leah picks up her iPhone again and quickly dials a number.

Courtney protests and tears at a piece of lettuce: “Leah, what are you doing?  Would you put the phone down?”

Leah holds up a hand to shush her as Courtney watches while pretending to read her script.
“Hello, Kenn Henman please.  No I can’t hold.  Tell him Courtney Primm’s assistant is on the line, and it’s urgent.”

Courtney laughs: “Everything’s urgent with you.  Paging Dr. Shepherd.”

She flips through the script, stopping only on the highlighted parts, mouthing them quietly to herself.
Leah shushes her and then turns away to speak directly into the phone.  She is loud, and the couple at the next table glances over at her.  Courtney smiles apologetically at them, and they glance away again, obviously annoyed but also obviously used to this sort of thing.

“Kenn, hi.  Leah Conroy.  Courtney Primm’s assistant.  Listen, Kenn, I need two tickets to the Nocturnal Mutiny after-party for Ms. Primm and myself.  Uh huh.  Uh huh.  No, that is unacceptable, Kenn.  UN-ACCEPT-ABLE.  She will not settle for some family friendly Disney piece of shit!”

“Seriously, Dr. Walsh, calm down.  If it’s full, it’s full.  It’s not a big deal.  There are tons of these things.”

Leah covers the phone momentarily: “Not like this one; this is a press wet dream.”

Courtney mutters to herself, something about Leah knowing that because of the many teenage boys that share her bed, which Leah ignores as she continues to berate the poor publicist on the other end.  Silently, Courtney wonders why he even picked up his extension.

“Seriously, Kenn, Disney?  Who would she meet there?  The Sprouse twins?  Hannah Montana?  Nocturnal Mutiny.  That’s what we need.  Uh huh.  Great.  Thank you, Kenn.”  Leah hangs up and grins at Courtney, then snatches the script away from her.

“I’m on a soap, Leah; I’m not Angelina,” Courtney reaches for it, but Leah wags a finger at her.

“It’s a primetime soap.  And it’s not forever.  Your contract’s up in, like, a month.  You’re leaving, right?”

Courtney scoffs: “Not the way things are going.”

“So I take it the audition went well.”

Courtney wrinkles her nose.

Leah rolls her eyes, scoffing back just as hard to match Courtney’s pessimism: she has heard this before.
“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

Courtney sips more of her water and shakes her head: “No, I majorly blew—“  Knowing with what Leah is about to respond, she holds her hand up to stop her: “Not like that!  I mean, I bit.  I mean, it was like the audition was one big fat brownie: I was Star Jones and backsliding fast.”

Leah reaches over and snatches a piece of chicken from Courtney’s plate.  Courtney pushes it closer to her, and Leah just wrinkles her nose and pushes it back.  “But they’re not all going to have directors chasing you out to your car.”

“Oh I don’t think you understand.  I mean, I bit.”

“Yeah, I get it.  Dessert all around.”  Leah sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest.

Out of nowhere, a bored looking waitress, who is popping her gum the way Courtney remembers the New York private school girls at her drama camp doing way back when, manages to find her way over to their table.  Leah just shakes her head at her: “Not for us, I’m doing macrobiotic this week.  Just the check.”

Courtney tries to hide a smile at the remnants of the fried wontons still evident on Leah’s plate.  Leah is still glaring at her, though, and Courtney doesn’t see the big deal: “So I stick with Chateau Pacific a while longer; it’s been good to me.”

“Yeah but your demo is not ideal at all.”

“I get recognized.”

The waitress places the check down in front of Leah and doesn’t even glance up at Courtney.  Courtney assumes she must be trying to break into acting, too.  Who isn’t?  One time, at P.F. Chang’s in the Sherman Oaks Galleria, her waiter actually slipped her his headshot, as if she could get him a meeting.  How could she when she couldn’t get herself meetings?  Leah took it anyway; he had been cute.

Leah ignores the check, so Courtney takes care of it.  This is not uncommon or unexpected, either.
Leah just tears into her fortune cookie, ripping the thin strip of paper out and looking at it as she responds: “By the Mid-West pancake bunch.  Look, I’m just saying, where you’re at is fine, but this is the time to try for more. You don’t want to be known as Trina Madsen for the rest of your life, right?”

Courtney thinks for a moment before replying: “Yeah… ultimately. You know, acting is just… it’s unpredictable where it takes you, and that was the whole reason I started. I guess I’ve gotten a little comfortable.”

Leah has her brow wrinkled, clearly lost in her own world, and probably not even listening to her friend: “This isn’t even a fortune!  Seriously: “You are energetic and full of life.”  It’s an observation!  And where are the lottery numbers?”  She throws the cookie down on her plate in disgust.  It breaks into smaller pieces, and she eats them one at a time as Courtney opens her own cookie.

Finally Leah snaps out of it and realizes what Courtney just said: “Sorry.  But you’re better than a supporting role on the Serenity Channel.  Think about it.  And think about this party tonight.”

Courtney ponders this for a minute and then smiles.  She holds her fortune out to Leah, who smiles and reads it aloud:  “You will soon find yourself in the company of greats… in bed.”  Courtney laughs and tosses the fortune on top of the credit card she already left on top of the check.  Leah grins and eats Courtney’s cookie, too: “That’s fate… it’s fate!”

Courtney closes her eyes again.  She thinks she’s going to regret this later, but she whispers: “Let’s do it,” barely audibly.  Leah manages to hear, though, and squeals with excitement, clapping her hands giddily.  Courtney giggles, and Leah pulls out her cell phone again.

“Let’s hope that Faretti is ready at the cleaners.  I’m going to wear a dress so low-cut you’ll be able to tell if I’m wearing a thong.”

Courtney just shakes her head as she stands to go.  Again, nothing uncommon or unexpected.

Check out the rest of the story here .

Trackback URI | Comments RSS