The thing is, in L.A., you can't just be a pretty face, because you can airbrush that. You can't just have a fairly good bod, because everyone else is nipped and tucked in places you don't even want to dream of. You can't just giggle and toss your hair and be the punchline, because someone else already has that job sewn up. For all the people who move to L.A. each year, just as many leave, limping back to their hometowns like pretty little sad sacks, telling their "I lived in California" stories over cocktails with their old high school friends.
I became one of those sad sacks—I only lasted in Los Angeles for eighteen months. I limped away, feeling like a failure for the first time in my life. I let the city and the industry beat me.
But now I was back. It took me ten years to make it back and this time…I wasn't going anywhere.
***
Holly was having a party at her house to celebrate the launch of her new management company. She had recently left a very high profile position with a major agency and had invited her close friends and several of the actors and actresses she represented. There were a few that had chosen to stay with the other agency, but she was so good at crafting a career, particularly with fresh new talent, that many had followed her.
Since I had moved back to L.A., I'd been staying with her at her house in the hills. She'd done very well for herself and had a great house off Mulholland Drive with a view of the city below.
Which brings us to the illegal jeans. As a thirty-three-year-old with some pre-existing body image issues, I was trying to get into the mind set I would need to navigate this party in this particular pair of jeans. I had matched the illegal jeans with a fairly conservative turquoise, cowl-neck tank top and stuck my feet into some very nice peep-toe sling-backs. I had great toe cleavage.
I was wearing my hair down, which I rarely do, but Holly had banned all my ponytail-holders this evening. We had gone this afternoon to get our hair done, and my red hair was a mess of soft curls. That stylist really earned his money and even I had to admit the curls were shampoo-commercial-worthy.
The party was in full swing and everyone was having a great time. Because Holly only took on talent she truly wanted to invest herself in, they became her close friends as well. They were always at the house and her circle had become my circle.
"Grace, you can't be serious. Feldman is way hotter than Haim."
I was deep in a discussion with Nick, a screenwriter that Holly had known for years. He had become one of my new friends since I'd moved back and could always be counted on as a good wingman at a party. Tonight we'd been knee deep in the dirty martinis. Extra dirty. He was waiting for an actor to arrive that Holly had recently begun to represent, an actor who apparently was poised to be the next big thing. I had yet to meet him, although Nick had admitted he was, and I quote, "yummy, scrumptious…a bit scruffy, but in a totally hot kind of way." Also, his British accent was "lovely," "to die for," and "knock-me-down-and-fuck-me."
Yeah, Nick was "gay". . .
"FINE," I started, "I will admit that Corey Feldman was genius in Goonies and even semi-cute in Stand By Me, but no one holds a candle to my Lucas," I protested, determined to win this round. We had recently gotten into a similar discussion about Steve Carrel versus Ricky Gervais and it didn't end well. Someone got scratched.
I heard a snicker behind me and someone said in a "lovely" British accent, "I think you gotta give the edge to Haim, if only for getting to kiss Heather Graham."
I turned to acknowledge the obvious genius of the newcomer for knowing License to Drive when I actually saw who it was.
"Hey, you're Super Sexy Scientist Guy!" I cried out in spite of myself, clapping my hands over my mouth as soon as I'd said it. I could feel my face redden instantly. Holly had a picture of this guy on her computer and had been referring to him for the last month as Super Sexy Scientist Guy. This was her new client, the next big thing. He had the lead in a movie slated for a fall release that was already generating big buzz in town. I didn't know much about the movie, but I knew that Holly was very excited to be representing this new actor.
Super Sexy Scientist Guy smiled a confused and somewhat sheepish grin. Did he know how hot that grin was?
Oh yeah, he totally knew.
He extended a hand to me and in the Queen's English he said, "Actually, I'm Super Sexy Jack Hamilton."
Chapter Two
I heard Nick's sharp intake of breath behind me as he almost knocked me out of the way to shake Jack's hand, surprising him in the process.
"Hi, Jack. I'm Nick. I saw you in your movie Her Better Half. Loved it! I also saw your pictures in Entertainment Weekly. I know not everyone loved the cover, but I sure did! I didn't see the big deal about wearing the kilt, you've got great legs. Are you living here in L.A. now? Are you excited for Time to come out? Wow, you're pretty." Nick had forgotten to breathe and only stopped talking because he ran out of air.
During this verbal assault, I watched as Jack's face changed from surprise to confusion, then on to wonder and finally barely contained laughter. I giggled and began to extricate Nick's hand from Jack's.
"Settle down big guy. You can tell Jack he's pretty all night long, but you don't want to shock and awe him in the first five minutes," I said, turning to Jack. "Hi, I'm Grace Sheridan. Super Sexy Grace Sheridan; it's nice to meet you." I shook his hand while Nick panted next to me. "And you are quite pretty," I added, as Jack smiled back at me.
I took a good long look at him now that my surprised blinders were off and I saw a tall, lean young man, who was almost a foot taller than me. He was wearing faded jeans, an anonymous black t-shirt with a gray zip-up jacket and oh my, were those Doc Martens? He had on an old gray baseball cap and a few days worth of scruff that was definitely working for him. He seemed very comfortable in his skin, which, for a second, I imagined pressed up against mine in a tight embrace.
The guy looks young enough to be your kid, Grace.
Yes, but only if I'd really slutted it up in junior high…
I shook my head to clear it a little and, by then, I could see Holly working her way across the kitchen to greet Jack
"Hello, sweetness. How're you tonight?" she asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning in for a quick peck on the cheek.
"I'm well, thank you. I've just been meeting Grace and, uh, Nick was it?" Jack smiled again and Nick swooned. I snorted as I watched Nick have a breakdown. Jack winked at me mischievously and I grinned back.
"Grace is my girl," Holly said. "We go way back. And Nick, well, Nick is necessary," she teased.
Nick feigned annoyance and responded, "Bitch, please. Where are you gonna find another man that will take you to see New Kids on the Block? And go along with the lie that it was work related?"
I almost spit out my cocktail, I was laughing so hard. Holly was the biggest closet New Kids fan around. I was one of the only ones who knew this secret. Maybe because it was a secret I shared with her.
"I don't know why you're laughing, Miss Thing," Nick said, turning his gaze to me. "You still fantasize over Joe McIntyre like you are thirteen years old!"