Page 4 of Redondo (Mates of the Mylos #7)
CHAPTER 4
THOMAS
“Hey, kiddo! How ya doin’?” came Cheryl’s raspy voice.
“Not so well, actually. I’m kinda calling you in a sort of desperate, last second Hail Mary.”
“That bad, huh?” She sighed. “Tell Aunty Cheryl all about it, kid.”
I poured my heart out. Cheryl wasn’t a top tier agent, not anymore anyway. She was a wizened, chain smoking woman in her eighties. Seriously, she loved her Virginia Slims more than anything else in this world, except maybe for her snappy miniature poodle, Tweetie Pie. After those two things, her fondness extended to her ‘kids’, all clients like me. Unlike me, most of them managed to keep their side gigs and scrape by before landing gigs on soap operas, bit parts in films, and lots and lots of print and TV ads.
“Okay, sugar, I hear ya. But I gotta tell ya, you not keeping up your SAG card has created a huge stumbling block as to what I can send you for. The sort of work that I can, has mostly dried up and even if there was anything, it wouldn’t pay you enough to keep you from getting thrown out on the street and facing your ‘creditors’.”
I could hear her making the air quotes through the phone and it somehow made my situation even more humiliating.
“I wish you’d come to me much sooner,” she continued.
“So there’s nothing?”
“Well, there is one thing,” she replied hesitantly.
“Yeah?” My ears perked up. “I’ll take anything! Anything at all!”
“Well, looking at the specifics, if you get cast, it definitely would pay off all of your debts and provide free future housing and all meals. It’s a five year contract. ”
“Oh? Is it one of those deals where I’d have to live on set?” I didn’t hate the idea, but if they were filming outside the US, I’d have to ask for an advance so I could pay for a passport.
“You could say that,” she said after a moment too long.
“You sound like you think it’s a really bad idea. Why? Is the director a known handsy asshole or something?”
“It’d be the furthest place you could probably ever think to travel to.”
The penny dropped. “This is for a gig aboard the Mylos Bride Fleet, isn’t it?”
“For that children’s education series that was all in the news, yes. Just forget about it. Put it out of your mind that I even suggested it.”
“It would definitely pay off my debt and get me far away from here if I get hired, so they couldn’t bother me for even more money. I don’t trust them not to get any funny ideas if I do pay them off, Cheryl. My landlord, yes. The loan shark and his hoodlums? No.”
“This is the first casting call, exclusively for already married or partnered actors or those willing to sign up for the Mylos Mate Matching Test. Now it does say that failing to be matched will not bar anyone from employment.” She sighed again. “You know what? No. How about you crash on the couch in my office instead? You can take a few weeks to find a new job to get money to pay your fees. Then you’ll have more gigs to apply for without having to peddle your ass to an alien.”
I laughed. “But if he’s my perfect mate, the one the universe intended me to be with all along, it wouldn’t be peddling my ass, now would it?”
“Love isn’t real,” she growled, and I felt sorry for her then. Someone had to have hurt her a long time ago, leaving her scarred like this. That got me thinking. I’d dated a lot of losers. Well, dating was too strong a term for most of them, but I had had a few actual boyfriends. The last one helped get me into this pickle, in fact. He’d taken my debit card from my wallet, added it to his Android Pay account, and spent what money I had on a side piece, and then told our boss I was harassing him, which was what got me fired. Me harassing HIM! All I'd done was ask when he was going to pay me back as I really needed the money he stole. Unfortunately, his side piece was the owner’s nephew and they thought Kyle had been dating him the entire time, not me. The police told me to file a claim with my bank, who were not being helpful at all. So a chance at finding the perfect guy for me? One hundred percent guaranteed, if we were matched?
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t mind a chance at a job and a happily ever after.”
“Fine, if you insist. I think you’re just really scared and those Mylos are seriously hot to boot so you’re not thinking straight.”
I laughed. “There’s never been anything straight about me, you know that!”
“I’ll text you the details. Don’t be late. I shouldn’t have to tell ya that since they haven’t caught the rest of those Friendship Day kidnappers to not tell anyone where you’re going or what you’re trying out for.”
“I won’t. What role are they casting for?”
”All the adult characters, so about twelve people. They’ll have you read a few samples and consider each applicant for each available part.”
I grinned to myself, suddenly feeling positive that I was going to get this job. Instead of calling home to beg for bus money, I’d be telling them all about my super successful new job. Ha!
Cheryl coughed. “Okay, I’ll send you the info in a few minutes. I gotta hang up now as Tweetie needs to go tee-tee. Then I promised to take him to the drive-thru for a bottle of Malt Duck and then for some Five Guys.”
“Okay, Cheryl. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You can name one of your alien hybrids after me if they probe you where the sun don’t shine and knock you up.”
I doubled over at that, my belly hurting from the howls of laughter I was trying to hold in. “Pretty sure that’s not a thing,” I managed to gasp out.
“Whatever.”
I kept laughing, knowing she couldn’t hear me, but damn, she was a funny old broad as she liked to call herself. Five Guys and a bottle of Malt Duck - somehow I thought the dog’s veterinarian wouldn’t approve, but would be too scared of Cheryl to say so. She was kind to her clients but tough as nails to everyone else. True to her word, moments later, the audition information came through and my eyebrows shot up. It was tomorrow, and being held aboard the mothership. Holy crapola! I was going into space!