Transformers Prime - Hazy

Tabula Rasa

    Well, here I was, for what felt like the millionth time, standing off to the side of a set, waiting for my name to be called by the dark-skinned woman.

    Her name was Priscilla Johnson, and she was about to put me through an interview. Again.

    It was another promotion urged by my manager, insisting it would make for good publicity. Me? I did for the fans. I did it for the people who believed in me and showed up at every movie showing.

    I did it for the girls who were lost like me.

Priscilla: “And here she is folks! Jasmine Brookes!”

    Yup. That was me. Jasmine Brookes, unlikely movie star of the decade. I made my entrance, the crowd applauding as they always did for this sort of thing. I waved and smiled and took my seat near Priscilla. She wore her typical, larger-than-life-grin. Sometimes it puzzled me how she could always be so happy.

    She started talking again the second I sat down.

Priscilla: “Well good evening Jasmine! It’s so good to see you!”

    Like I said: always happy.

Jasmine: “It’s good to see you, too, Priscilla.”

    I replied, a genuine smile crossing my soft pink lips. Aside from how she seemed impossibly happy, I got along with her just fine. We weren’t best friends or anything, mind you, but we got along fine.

Priscilla: “We’ll get to the movie in a second, Honey. First, I want to hear about that steamy romance you’ve been having with tall, dark and handsome.”

Jasmine: “You mean Jake?”

    I was certain she was referring to Jake. Jake Stone. Typical rocker name, I know, but that actually was his birth name. All the tabloids were printing articles about our dates lately -- most of them false with some hidden grain of truth. His dark hair, brown eyes and strong jawline tended to make most girls swoon. Well, that, and he was the frontman for a rock band.

Jasmine: “There’s nothing much to say.”

    Other than I’d told him it wasn’t working out and there was nothing special between us. It was kind of cruel to put it that way, though.

Priscilla: “Let me get this straight: you’re dating one of the hottest guys in rock and roll, and there’s ‘not much to say’?”

    I got that reaction a lot when I talked about the lack of spark between myself and Jake. But, well, that was kind of why I’d broken it off with him.

    And that information was going to blow her away, even if I fudged a few details to protect his dignity.

Jasmine: “We broke it off this morning, actually.”

    I told her, as though it were an afterthought only brought up by her mention. There were perks to being an actress: I could act my way through a hurricane.

    Her mouth gaped open at the news.

Priscilla: “You’re kidding me! What happened?”

Jasmine: “Not much. That was kind of the problem. I mean, he was nice, handsome and dutiful. Always arrived on time, always looked nice, opened doors and pulled out my chair.”

    Definitely not the behavior you’d expect from a rock artist right? Well, he had a soft side, and that was something I’d personally witnessed.

Jasmine: “But there was just . . . nothing special in our relationship. He’s a good guy, just not the one for me.”

    I shrugged, as though it were no big deal. In all actuality, I jumped from relationship to relationship, trying to find one that was special. For the first couple years, I refused to date at all, but the loneliness was so staggering, I started going out with men.