Page 4 of Yours To Take
“Where are you off to this time?” I stuff an unsatisfying bite of salad into my mouth. Where my mother got the idea I like this stuff, I don’t know.
“Japan. How exotic.” Her eyes are wide with delight.
“I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
Her phone buzzes from where it’s sitting on the table. “Oh, I need to take this.”
I lean back in my seat, frustrated. This is just like my mother. Inviting me to lunch because she says I need to spend more time with her and then picking up any call that comes in.
I try to get her attention, but she holds up a finger in a “give me a minute” sign. Clicking the plastic lid of my salad back into place, I stand.
“I have to go.”
“Okay.”
I don’t even think she heard me.
Figures.
Not wanting to be wasteful, I take the sad, wilty salad back to my office and eat in peace.
If I could find any peace. The thought of getting fired is now sitting front and center in my mind. I’ve been with Malibu Studios since I was a lowly assistant, making coffee runs and printing more scripts than I knew what to do with.
I climbed my way up. All of my work has done well for the studio. It fucking sucks that after a few dry months, they can drop you faster than you can blink.
I can’t be a writer if I have no studio to write for.
ChapterTwo
BLAKE
“So, what are you going to do?” Eric throws a dart at the board in front of us.
“Pull a story out of my ass somehow.”
“You know that doesn’t work.” He points at me with the next dart in his hand.
“It’s either that or get fired and then spend the next five years trying to find work. And when I don’t, I’ll have to move back in with my mom, and that’s the last thing I want to do.”
Eric shudders. “I could not imagine moving back in with my mom at twenty-seven.”
“You still live with your mom.”
“Ass. She lives with me. House is in my name.”
One of the few friends I have here, Eric and I met on his first day as a director’s assistant for my football show. He’s made a killing for himself and is now at the helm of his own show. One filled to the brim with blue creatures.
For someone so well-known, he’s not easily picked out in a crowd. His trademark long, blond hair is pulled back under a hat. It hides the scar that slices down his face. Some childhood accident he won’t tell me about.
“You’re so easy to rile up,” I say with a grin as he steps away from the line and I take my shot with the darts.
“You’re dodging my question.” Eric sips his beer.
“Clint tells me they don’t want zombies, but aliens are in, then hands me a family drama. Why can’t I have a family of aliens?”
“People only like aliens if they’re having sex.”
“Dude.” I throw my arms out wide. “I really don’t want to be discussing alien sex right now.”
