And then an immediate reply from Summer.
Jess has decided to go in another direction, which is probably for the best…
What the fuck? I don’t want to go in another direction!
She said, this morning, that she was destined for bigger things and didn’t need me any more. Was she talking about this TV thing? I know I fucked up at the party, and I know she’s super ambitious, but surely she’s not that mean. She’s literally just kicked me out of the way.
The towel falls off my head and my wet hair drips onto my face, creating makeshift tears instead of the real ones that elude me. It’s not like there’s anything I can do about it. I own none of the site, I signed nothing. Not even an employment contract. I feel like such a dick. Telly iswaymore lucrative than books. With an irritated grumble, I switch off my phone. I won’t send Summer the text message just yet. She can stew a little longer about the whereabouts of Mr Belding, for all I care. Not that she seems to have noticed, now that she’s going to be a celebrity TV person.
‘Son of a bitch,’ I hiss to myself and punch the pillow like people always suggest you should do when you’re feeling stressed. It’s a high-quality pillow and my hand just bounces right off, which is really unsatisfying. I lie back on the huge bed and one of the springs uncoils, poking me sharply in the hip.
I don’t want to be melodramatic or anything, but I think this might be the second worst day of my life.
