So, what’s at stake then? Hismanhood, which will make it even more crushing when he realizes Presley is using him for his money. Even though she has genuine feelings for him, she’ll have to do something completely over-the-top to win him back.
I like it, I decide, rinsing myself one last time before turning off the shower and wrapping myself up in a big fluffy beach towel. I dry off, moisturize my face, roll on some deodorant, check to make sure my labia wound is healing (thank God it is), and put on some clothing. My hair is wrapped on top of my head, making my neck strain to stay straight.
I grab my phone off my nightstand and check it.Ugh.I missed a call from Lindsay. That makes sense. It’s Friday. She’s probably checking on my progress.
I call the agency and Evan picks up. “Vision Board Creative Group, this is Evan. How may I direct your call?”
Evan is the best thing about Vision Board. Agents come and go like the seasons at this company, and I’m pretty sure a good amount of money has been spent on legal fees to keep potential scandals under wraps over the past few years. (According to Evan, anyway, who told me about the agent who posted a video of herself topless on Instagram lighting one of her client’s books on fire. For what, you might ask? I have legit no idea.) Suffice to say, the place has no shortage of HR drama. Lindsay’s fine, I guess, but she’s super uptight and professional, and if we’re really trying to call a spade a spade, I am just…not. I get my work done on time and I’m professional when it counts, for sure. But I don’t know. When I signed on the dotted line, I had this secret hope that my agent would be someone who I’d end up becoming tight with, like a good friend. Not so much with Lindsay. But Evan’s agreatconsolation prize. He’s a total gossip—which I love, because he not only dishes about agents and editors but also about the Hollywood set, thanks to the agency’s huge involvement in selling film rights. Evan’s also stylish, funny, he’s got ahuge heart for animals, and is extremely smart. He reads most of the subs that come in to weed out the garbage and participates in those Twitter pitch contests on behalf of the agency. His job is fast-paced, and I would imagine it’s pretty stressful, but Evan is the picture of composure at all times. Also, his boyfriend, Oliver, is hot as hell, and they have the cutest little rescue pup named Trixie, who came from the animal shelter where he volunteers on Saturday mornings.
I know all of this about Evan in large part because Lindsay is so buttoned up about herself that when I started having to call the agency on a fairly regular basis, I’d feel so unsatisfied when I got off the phone that I took to asking Evan unnecessary questions, like how his day was going or if he’d had any celebrity sightings of late. Helovestalking to me. He says most of the authors don’t even give him the time of day. Little do they know, he was probably their first-round gatekeeper in the industry.
Not me though. Lindsay was actually my first-round gatekeeper, because shewasEvan before she was promoted to being an agent. I originally queried someone else at the agency, but then that lady got canned for cooking the books on one of her clients’ royalty statements, and Lindsay moved up. I came out of a slush pile of “potentials” she’d been holding on to and was upgraded to client status. The industry is funny that way—people shift and move and there’s all kinds of drama—although I’ve noticed it happensa lotat Vision Board. But I think that’s what makes Evanperfectfor his job.
“Hey, boo boo,” I sing.
“Shut. Up. Gracie?” he says in a hushed tone.
“Yeah. Unless you have a new boo?”
“Um. No. You’re my one and only queen bee. I amsoglad you called.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Suchdirt. Okay, so you know Angie?”
“You mean Angela Drake?”
“Yep.”
“She’s a VP, right?”
“Not anymore.”
“Stop. It. What happened?”
“Apparently, someone outed her for offensive tweets she posted back in, like, 2015.”
“Really? What did they say?”
“She made comments about the cleaning staff at a hotel she stayed at during a conference. I can’t repeat them, at least not right now. But it was Not. A. Good. Look. So, yeah. Bye, Felicia.”
“Damn.”
“Right? Ugh. I feel so much better, now that I got that off my chest. It literally happened like just a few hours ago. I texted Oliver and he was all, ‘Angie who?’ and I had to stress-eat a beautiful fucking donut from Sacco’s Sugar Shop to get over the fact that he had no idea what I was talking about. Like, myGod. Listen much? I swear to you, Gracie, he’s legit only with me for my body.”
“Youarethe better looking one.”
“Thank you. I know,” Evan says.
“Anything else exciting going on?”
“The shelter took in a potbellied pig. Some asshole left the poor thing in a crate on the doorstep. Like Little Orphan Annie. So I might be fostering a pig soon.” He sighs dramatically. “Now I won’t be able to eat bacon ever again.”
“You know they don’t kill those little pigs to make bacon, right, Ev?”
“Obviously. But I’d feel guilty. Like, sorry, piglet. I just ate your grandpa in my breakfast sandwich.”
“You’re crazy.”
