THE EDGE ➶ JAMES FRANCO✔️

1. A COFFEE SPILL

The Lucky One by Taylor Swift

"Now it's big black cars and riviera views, and your lover in the foyer doesn't even know you, and your secrets end up splashed on the news front page."

~~~

The blue sky reflects off of her cheap Ray Bans as she steps out of a black Lexus. Her cheeks soon match her red lips; it's 95° here in Los Angeles. The fact that there are celebrities milling about makes the newcomer even more excited. Taylor Swift's lyrics play around in her mind, singing, "New to town with a made-up name, in the angel city chasing fortune and fame, and the camera flashes make it look like a dream."

"Thanks," she says to the Uber driver as she hands him thirty dollars and shuts the door, allowing him to drive off. The young woman begins to head into a nearby office; her one mission here is to get a record deal. She's been singing since her fifth birthday, and now she wants to bring her songs to the world. A cocky, young celebrity with messy hair winks at her, but she turns away before letting herself recognize him.

The Los Angeles scene is exciting and new for her. She's never seen a palm tree up close, yet here are a million of them sprouting up from streets she'd only dreamed about. For years she worked unhappily at an Ohio tax advisor's office, never fearless enough to leave without looking back- until now.

~~~

"What... What do you mean I can't get a record deal?" She questions, trying her best to control her voice level.

"Miss," the branch's boss sighs, "it's nothing personal, just- your age. We're looking for young people who can outsell the industry's best by connecting with young people," he explains, looking down at her résumé.

"I am young."

"With all due respect, Ms...." He trails off while trying to read the messily-printed last name on a form.

"Bradshaw. Allison Bradshaw."

"Right." His hand finds his forehead and rubs it as if he has a headache. "Ms. Bradshaw, you're thirty-seven. Your only hope of getting a deal from me is if you know somebody, if you know what I mean."

"Please give me a chance. You haven't even listened to what I can do." Allison hopes she didn't sound overly self-confident.

"Come back when you know someone; someone like, oh, I don't know, maybe my brother." He chuckles at the thought.

~~~

Storming out of the office, Allison's temper has risen so high that she don't see the young man walking towards her, causing her to bump into him rather harshly. Hot coffee splashes out of her travel mug and onto the man's leather shoe. He doesn't seem fazed by this small detail.

"Oh, sorry, I- Hey, I just saw you a few minutes ago," a warm voice says.

She doesn't look at him, afraid that it's somebody famous she just spilled coffee all over. She can already see the headline: "Ruined Shoes," accompanied by a particularly embarrassing paparazzi picture. It's not a way she'd like to spend her first day in LA.

He laughs. It's a cute laugh; almost a boyish giggle. "Can't you look at me? I can't even take you seriously."

Allison look up to meet the face of James Franco, one of Hollywood's hottest bachelors, or so that five-month-old copy of "Tiger Bop" says. She almost faints because, well, she thinks that issue of "Tiger Bop" is right. She tries to hold back the teenage fangirl inside that's telling her to immediately kneel at his feet and ask for an autograph while crying over his coffee-stained shoes.

"That's better." He studies her face before staring at her chest. She crosses her arms over the v-neck's opening. "Sorry," he says, finally looking at his feet. If he notices the coffee, he doesn't say it. "I'm kind of a... What do the kids call it? A 'fuckboy'?" He says, making air quotes.

"Oh." She struggles to breathe out her short response. The thought of making love to the dashing Mr. Franco lets butterflies loose in her stomach; whether she's scared or overjoyed, she doesn't know.

"So, who are you?" He asks, interrupting your thoughts.

"I'm Allison. Allison Bradshaw. I just moved here from Ohio."

James points a thumb back to the office you just stalked out of. "Were you trying to get a deal?"

The young woman nods vigorously.

"Did that bastard turn you down?"

His blunt language doesn't shock her. "Yeah, he did," she says in a small voice, looking down at her folded arms.

He curses under his breath. "He never gives anyone a chance."

"You know him very well?"

"Well, yeah, he's my brother, Tom."

Ah, yes, Tom Franco. That's why he looked familiar! Although most people have only heard of James and Dave, she prides herself in knowing everything about what she calls "The Franco Trilogy." Allison didn't know he'd moved on to become the manager of Huiesmann Records.

"Oh, right!" Although now is a prime opportunity to drag James in and say now I know someone, she's afraid he has stuff to do and places to be.

"Want me to take you in there?"

This is it. This is what you've been waiting for! Pull yourself together and say yes. If you don't, you'll probably never get this chance again, she reminds herself.

"Sure," she chokes out.

~~~

"James! How nice of you to drop by. Who's this; a new girlfriend?" Tom asks, pointing to Allison's silhouette.

"No, this is yet another person you've turned down. Get her a deal," James remarks, getting right down to business.

After taking a good look at her, Tom remembers her name. "You're that Allison girl, right?"

She wants to make a smartass remark, but he hasn't even approved the idea of giving her a record deal. So she merely nods.

"And you know my son-of-a-bitch brother?"

Again, you nod. Tom makes a face similar to a scowl and a smile mixed together, but you can't tell how he's feeling.

"Alright. Based on this and what we talked about before," Tom sighs, "you've got yourself a deal. You must be pretty special if my own brother brings you in here."

~~~

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