SLEAZE: A Hollywood Comeback Story (Book #1)

Chapter 2

I woke up a full hour before my alarm clock on my first day of work with an intense energy coursing through my body. After I'd forced Scott to call his older brother, we'd spent the next hour or so just catching up over another round of French fries and of course, more ketchup. As always, Scott had great stories to share and when I'd returned home to my apartment, my stomach had ached painfully from being keeled over in laughter for so long.

But it wasn't until I caught myself belting classic rock songs under the warm spray of my shower head this morning that it dawned on me that I hadn't felt this genuinely happy in months. I whistled as I shaved and hummed as I debated adding a bit of gel to my hair. I don't usually spend much time worrying about my appearance but I figured, why not do a little extra? It's my first day, and cowlicks aren't a good look on anyone, let alone an intern. 

As I patted the last few strands into place, I grinned at the final product in the mirror; my reflection smiled approvingly back at me. Despite my high school crush's opinion of me looking like a serial killer, I was happy with how I'd grown into my features. Sure, I wasn't going to be gracing the cover of GQ any time soon, but I figured at least one or two of my coworkers—preferably female—would check me out and not run away in terror.

As I tilted my head side to side, studying my neckline for stragglers that my razor had missed, I started imagining what this internship could mean for me if I did everything right.

Truthfully, when my mom told me how proud she and Dad are about me becoming an engineer, I'd been wracked with guilt for two pretty big reasons.

Number one:  I hate my major and would rather jump off a cliff than spend the rest of my life contemplating the structural components required to build a road.

 Number two: I applied to Los Angeles University as an engineering major solely because I knew it was an easy way in to an otherwise competitive school. Despite my less than stellar senior year GPA, I'd dominated the math and science classes I took throughout high school, and on paper it made sense for me to become an engineer. What my poor parents didn't know, however, was that I chose LAU without any intention of graduating with a science degree. It had always been my plan to transfer into the film program. Unfortunately for me, I hadn't realized when I applied to the university itself that the film school at LAU admits exactly two non-freshman students each year—no more, no less.

Each potential applicant gets two chances to win over the film school admission committee. In hindsight, my freshman year video submission had been a joke and last year I'd been too stressed about my borderline computer-aided design grade to even sleep, let alone write a script and film it. This year would be my last chance to get in. I knew that I was at a disadvantage, having spent my summers working at engineering firms instead of shadowing director's assistants, which is why even though I hadn't found a job in production, this job could help me develop the connections that I needed to get my foot in the door. Maybe I'd be able to go out with Michael and a client on location and I'd get an idea as to how to shoot more professionally in natural light, which had been on of the major critiques on my video two years ago.

When I was satisfied that I hadn't missed any stubble, I finished up in the bathroom and headed to my closet. While most of my daily attire littered the floor of my bedroom in admittedly gross piles of unwashed laundry, the six or so pieces of clothing that I actually cared about rested lovingly on hangers. I reached for the protective bag that I knew contained my dad's five-year-old, dark grey suit. He'd given it to me after my freshman year when I started going on interviews for internships. I remembered him coming into my room early in the summer after I'd gotten back from school with the suit laid carefully atop his outstretched hands.

"Now that you're a man, it's time you had a real suit," he'd said to the wall as he turned to give me privacy while I'd excitedly begun trying it on. "And there is nothing more real than a man in Armani."