Marnie stumbled into the kitchen, looking like she'd been hit with a Mack truck. Danny winced. Despite her attempts, the dark purple bruises seeped through the makeup and swarmed around the bridge of her nose. He pulled a chair out for her and she plopped down. It was more than just her face hurting. Her spirit was broken. This could be the catalyst that undid all their hard work. She might succumb and return to heroin. If so, it wouldn't simply be a relapse this time.
“I want to stay in bed today.” Her violet eyes rounded, pleading with him.
Perhaps a little humor would break the ice.
“I want an Oscar. Three box office hits later, and it still hasn't happened. I'd also like a five o'clock shadow, but that's not happening either,” Danny wiggled his eyebrows.
Wrong move.
Her body hunched forward like a broken ballerina. The sobs startled him, prompting Mickey to leave his spot by the window and lick her fingers. He wanted to grant her wish, but leaving her to her own devices could be dangerous. He grabbed two paper towels and handed her one. With the other he loudly blew his nose. Am I getting sick? An ill, shaky feeling had taken over his body after he started taking those vitamins. Perhaps he was having an allergic reaction.
“Here have some coffee.” Danny poured her a mug and patted her on the back.
He snapped the magazine and tried to bury himself in a story about a man who outwitted armed burglars.
“Are you going to tweet your auditions?” Marnie asked moments later.
“No.” A small smiled appeared behind the magazine. Getting back to business as usual was exactly what she needed. He was happy he could do it without her kicking and screaming. Attagirl.
“Okay, I'm not going to bring a camera. If you change your mind later, it will be too late. And I'm not going into every Walgreens in the area, looking for a disposable camera this time either. They don't sell those anymore,” Marnie said with a huff.
Danny smiled fondly, remembering the prank he'd played on her during the tour.
Danny loved auditioning. It was a chance to be challenged. Only here did he have the opportunity to pit his talents against new undiscovered—or at least underappreciated—talent. Marnie, Danny, and other actor slash model, slash waiter, and slash writer wannabes, waited to be called next on the list.
A part had already been written with him and one other actor in mind, so the slew of actors in the room were not his competition. It didn't matter if it was one, or twenty actors, for Danny. He liked the part and was sure he would land it. The movie centered around a futuristic city on Mars, where stars were mined for energy. His character worked as a captain of the space ship Cryolen #9. The movie would start off with a murder on the ship, which only his character could solve.
“You got my script?” Danny asked Marnie. He wanted to spend a few minutes speed‐reading to help get into character.
She looked up sheepishly from the O magazine she was reading.
“Um, no.”
“Alright, go ask the receptionist if he has a spare one,” Danny said, pointing to a stick figure with brown hair and blond highlights, who sat at his desk sipping coffee. He was dressed in black with a pink and purple tie. Blue coke bottle glasses adorned the bridge of a thin nose.
“Do you have a spare script I could borrow?” Marnie asked quietly.
“For which movie, honey?”
“Black Light.”
“Oh. Today's audition. Well, come on in the back and let me see if I have something.”
Marnie followed him into another room filled with rows of metal shelving containing what Marnie could only guess were scripts.
“Oh my goodness. The last ones are all the way on the top.” The receptionist glared at Marnie. “You know what? I am really sick and tired of all you actresses coming in here unprepared, then expecting me to make things right for you.” His voice was shrill and carried into the other room.
He continued to chastise Marnie as he climbed on a stepping stool to grab a script for Black Light.
“You might as well just quit right now, ‘cause you're not going to get the gig with this attitude. I would be embarrassed if I were you.”
He stared down at Marnie from his coke bottle glasses. Her insides tumbled. He was right, she did feel embarrassed. The week was turning into a nightmare of epic proportions. First Brian, now this. She really wished the ground would open and swallow her right now, or a bus could come by and end it all for her. Either option was greatly appreciated at the moment. Marnie was becoming increasingly convinced that being sober only revealed she had nothing to live for. Life was unbearable, and to add to that, the people in it were no picnic either.
The receptionist threw the script at Marnie, which landed at her feet. She stooped to pick it up and leafed through it. Her heart sank. The pages Danny needed were missing.
“This is missing a few pages.” She handed the screenplay to the receptionist.
He stared at the document as if it was covered in the bubonic plague, and frowned resentfully.
“Well, that's just too bad for you isn't?” ‘Cause I'm not going back up there.” He folded the stepping stool for added emphasis.
“But I—”.
“Who the hell do you think you are, the queen of Sheba?” He closed the space between them, backing Marnie against the wall. She smelled a hint of wintergreen gum on his breath.
“Listen, bitch, I don't have time to deal with your shenanigans.”
Marnie lowered her eyes, avoiding his piercing glare.
“If you don't back away from my assistant, time is all you'll have in a minute.” Danny leaned against the doorway and slowly rolled back the cuffs of his sleeves.
The receptionist whirled around, startled when he bumped into Danny.
She glanced at Danny, every muscle in his arms began to flex. Would he make a scene? She'd forgotten the screenplay so maybe a reprimand was in order. So why was she relieved to see, the steel in his smoky gray eyes?
“Well, Mr. Roland, I didn't realize this was your assistant. I…” The receptionist stumbled over his words in an attempt to be apologetic.
“Do we have a problem here? Because you can tell Chris I'm only here as a favor to him. I can leave and go on to more important things.”
The anger that flashed in his eyes comforted her. She waved a hand over her face, cooling the heat that had risen to her cheeks. Why did bad boys always turn her on?
“Of course, I understand, sir. There is absolutely no problem here.” He glanced at Marnie and gave her an apologetic smile.
“Good. Now back the fuck away from my assistant.”
The receptionist jumped back from Marnie as if Danny had electrocuted him. He grabbed the stepping stool and scurried to the top and grabbed a manuscript, skimmed through it looking for missing pages and handed the script to Marnie.
Danny grabbed him by the collar as he stepped off the stool, causing it to teeter. Like a rat, the receptionist squirmed out of his grasp and backed into a corner.
“If you ever come up on my assistant again, I guarantee, not only will you be losing this job, but you won't work in Hollywood ever again. You got that?”
The receptionist nodded shakily.
Danny turned around and placing a firm hand around Marnie's elbow, he guided her out of the room. They walked through the waiting area and out the door.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Danny whirled around on her outside of the office. “Why do I always have to stick up for you?” He poked her in the right shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you to stand up for yourself? You've got to stop letting people walk all over you.” He paced back and forth in the hallway, paused, and then he stepped into Marnie's space, pushing her up against the wall.
“You need to grow some balls, or breasts, or whatever.” He grabbed her gut and squeezed. Marnie slapped his chest, but Danny only increased the pressure. She put up her knee to try to push him away. He released his grip with a look of triumph in his eyes.
“Yes, fight back, damn it.”