Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Mr. Whitacre. I think this might’ve been the kick in the pants I needed.”
He hands me his business card. “I’ll be in touch with those producers and directors I still know. We’ll get things done for you. You have my word.”
“Thank you again.”
My entire body feels lighter as I walk off the set.
I can’t believe what just happened. One of the biggest producers in Hollywood just fired me, and I’m not upset about it. In fact, I’m thrilled. The script was amazing, and I could’ve done a great job with it, but Mr. Whitacre was right. I didn’t have the passion. I didn’t realize that maybe I’ve been hindering myself all these years because I’m doing things I don’t care enough about.
Could that be why the roles slowed down? I thought it had everything to do with my reputation (and maybe my self-sabotage—thanks, Mason), but it seems like maybe Mr. Whitacre is right, and it also has to do with my lack of passion.
I squeeze my phone in my hand as I climb into my car. I’ll be fine for a while, but I do need to get another role soon. I just lost out on a pretty big paycheck by getting fired. I’ve never been fired before. It’s a strange feeling. Being fired is the best thing that could’ve happened to me.
Before I even drive off the lot, I start scanning through some of my networking channels and find a few TV show spots I need to audition for. I submit my headshot and resume and then tuck my phone into its holder in my car.
My passion does lie in TV. It’ll give me more opportunities to grow and change in my career. But my passion lies somewhere else, too, and that’s with Leila. I need to make things right with her. According to Mason and Malia, enough time has passed that I should be able to talk to her. At the very least, I’d like us to become friends again if she’s willing.
Either way, I need to try. Michael Whitacre has inspired me in more ways than one today.
Smiling, I drive back to my house, ready to make a plan. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I know I have to make it work.
My future with Leila depends on it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Leila
I’m off my game. That’s the only way to describe how things have been going over the last few months for me.
I’m trying with my clients. A few are repeats I worked with before I went to the west coast, and they were excited to have me back, but I’ve only disappointed them. I’ve lost all my creativity. I don’t know how to get it back.
Pretty much all my projects since I came back have been home designs. I finally found my passion in the corporate setting in California, and I feel like I’ve regressed since coming back. The problem is, Rebecca doesn’t want me working on as many corporate projects here, and we don’t even have that many to go around. She thinks my talents are wasted on communal spaces. I think that’s where my talents flourish.
I tell everyone in the office I’m taking my hour lunch and grab my phone. I try calling my mom, but she doesn’t answer. I try once more, and this time, to my surprise, I hear her voice.
“Are you dying?” is the first thing she asks.
“No, I just wanted to talk to you. Do you and Dad want to have dinner tonight?”
“Have you gotten back together with Spencer? Talked to Jason?”
I blow out a breath. “No.”
“Then we don’t want to have dinner with you.” Mom hangs up before I can say anything more.
I’m tempted to throw my phone on the ground, but I don’t want to go through the effort of having to replace it. Instead, I tuck it in my pocket and walk into the sandwich place near the Frills office for a quick lunch. Of course, while inside, I’m thinking about all the things I could do to spruce up the local deli, but Rebecca doesn’t want me soliciting my own work. Frills East has people who do that for us. Frills West was so new that we had to build up our client list, and that’s the only reason I was allowed to branch out.
As I eat my sandwich, I wonder how I got to this point. My parents won’t speak to me because they think I ruined a perfect opportunity to have a rich husband. They don’t care about the pictures of him kissing another girl. They think I should be just fine getting back together with a cheater because it would mean financial stability and the trophy wife life they’ve been dreaming of for me.
They also don’t care that Jason has long since moved on and is dating another resident at his hospital. He did reach out to me when he found out I was back in town, mostly to make sure I wouldn’t be upset at seeing him with another girl. We haven’t spoken since, and I don’t think we ever will again.