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And then I’ll have to say Meow at the end. Like a trained monkey.” “Or a trained kitten,” Lizzie says. “Is that supposed to be a helpful comment?” “Yes?” she squeaks. “No?”
“No jerky billionaires were made richer in the getting of this book.”
“Doomed to serve my nemesis every day of my life for the foreseeable future,” I say. “Isn’t that one of the punishments they give Greek gods? I would honestly rather roll a boulder up a mountain or have birds tear at my flesh.”
“I would’ve gone for it,” I say, trying to make her feel better. “Who doesn’t want a guy with knowledge of erotic animal things? A little crazoo in bed, you know…”
His father is some famous conductor, and his mother is Gloria Perez, the violinist.
Antonio’s a male model who did a lot of runway work in Milan, and now he’s here trying to break into acting. He doesn’t have a lot of stage experience, which is a nice way of saying he’s awful at acting. He’s the most loyal guy with the biggest heart ever, and I’ve been trying to help him, but he has a serious over-acting problem that hasn’t been improved by his fascination with books on character motivation and method acting.
“A pickup book? I’m a male model with an Italian accent, cara. What would I need with such a book?”
“Such stuff would work on men, too,” Antonio observes, shutting the book. “You could wrap a man around your little finger with these techniques.”
“I’m not doing Max Hilton pickup techniques on Max Hilton,”
“I do not share,” Antonio says. “Please. One of me is enough, no?”
Sienna even has an amazing talent for posing. It helps that she has a really long, willowy body and long limbs, so when she leans against a wall, it’s willowy girl leaning cool, whereas when I do it with my considerably shorter and less willowy limbs, it just looks like pasta-fed girl of sturdy Italian stock is sooo weary. Pasta-fed girl needs to work on cardio. Pasta-fed girl shouldn’t have gotten bangs, but she’s doing the best she can, so give her a break already.
Rollins is a sweet, naïve farm boy who grew up in the rural hinterlands of some western state, and then came to the city as part of a really religious production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
He thinks tattoos and facial piercings are Satanic and says nerdy things like, We give 110 percent of ourselves in every rehearsal! We’re all kind of shocked he’s lasted this long in the city.
You have a right to dream.
The doors squeech open.
Personally, I find that adding lavender to a blend introduces a wistful note of longing, a nostalgic edge, an ache for what once was, what never could’ve been. In the end, that’s what nostalgia is; the past seen through rose-colored glasses.
“Tell me, how was I rattling Meow Squad cats?” I turn to him with a smile. “She looked like she was about to cry.” Something twists inside me. I need more. Did I upset her? For a wild minute, I think about ejecting him from my office and going after her.
He didn’t play like a robot because he feels nothing. He didn’t create the cold, careless Max Hilton persona because he feels nothing. He did those things because he feels too much.
“The point is, it doesn’t matter. You can never know the outcome of a thing, Mia. The only thing that you have is how it feels. We were always so focused on schemes to build our wealth, move to the other side of the tracks, get a pie-in-the-sky moment, we didn’t concentrate on what made us happy. All of the other concerns beyond that, you just have to be bigger than those concerns.”
“You’re scared right now, but you thought up this scheme when you weren’t scared. Your bravest self thought up this scheme. Trust that girl who’s brave.”
“She was playful and outrageous,” Max says. “A little bit bossy. And so goddamn beautiful, it killed me.”
