Page 1 of Breaking Hollywood

Ava

Don’t cry.

Don’t you dare cry, Ava Simms.

You’ve gotten through harder things than losing your job.

I’ve lost my job.

Shit. I’ve lost my job.

My boyfriend left me a month ago. I’m homeless as of tomorrow. And, now, I have no job.

Okay. I’m going to cry.

My lip wobbles, and tears start to run from my eyes.

With my heels clicking loudly across the tiled floor of the lobby, I speed walk out of the building, ignoring the receptionist’s curious eyes on me.

Pushing through the rotating door, I’m out of there. Head down, I rush around to the side of the building where my car is parked.

I climb in, shutting the door behind me, and toss my bag on the passenger seat. I jab my key in the ignition and turn the engine on.

I just want to go home.

But I don’t have a home anymore. Not after tomorrow.

And here comes the serious waterworks.

Tears are pouring down my cheeks. I swipe a hand over my eyes, not even caring that I’m probably smudging my makeup.

It’s not like I have anyone to impress anymore.

I slam the shift stick in reverse and hit the gas.

A second later, I go over a small speed bump.

I don’t remember speed bumps being down here.

My head whips around, and I see a body vaulting away from my car.

Oh, shit.

It wasn’t a speed bump.

It was a person.

I just hit a person with my car! Could this day get any worse?

Scrambling out of my car, quickly drying my eyes with my hands, I rush around to find a guy on his ass on the sidewalk, holding his right foot, cursing, and groaning in pain.

“Oh my God! I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay!” he barks. “You just ran over my foot!”

His voice sounds vaguely familiar, like I’ve heard it somewhere before.

I can’t see his face properly, as his head is down, just a head full of dark hair.