My Actress Girlfriend - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
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I quickly fabricated an excuse. "I wanted to discuss casting for the new project, and when I heard you were here, I came straight over."
Director Roscente, too caught up in the festivities to question me, just grinned and said, "Well, since you're here, might as well stay and enjoy yourself!"
In our industry, schmoozing with investors over drinks was practically mandatory—and hiring escorts to "liven up" the party was standard practice.
But this? This was my first time at something so... exclusive.
Now I was trapped—too awkward to leave, too uncomfortable to stay. I perched stiffly on the edge of a couch, nursing my drink like a lifeline.
Before long, a woman slithered into the seat beside me, all honeyed smiles and batting lashes.
"So, I hear you're the screenwriter for Roscente's new project," she purred. "That means you have some pull with casting, right? Think there's a role for someone like me?"
As she spoke, she grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly against her surgically enhanced chest.
Clearly, she hadn't managed to snag Roscente's attention—or any of the other heavy hitters—so now she was settling for me.
I yanked my hand back and scooted away.
Undeterred, she leaned in again, her curves pressing against my side, her manicured fingers making a bold descent toward my belt.
Out of options, I blurted, "Casting isn't my call."
The second she realized I was useless to her, her smile evaporated. Without another word, she stood and stalked off.
That was this world in a nutshell—no real connections, just transactions.
Bodies traded for opportunities, cash exchanged for beauty—it was all part of the game.
For a moment, I zoned out, lost in bitter thoughts. Why had Sophia ever chosen me?
Had she actually admired my talent? Or had she just seen me as a stepping stone—a screenwriter who might open doors for her?
Now, after rubbing elbows with the real power players in this industry, she must have realized the truth: I was just like her—another insignificant ant beneath the boots of money and influence.
No, worse. At least she could climb the ladder on her back. Who knew if I'd ever get my shot?
Roscente's booming voice snapped me back to reality.
"Ethan, why the long face? None of these beauties doing it for you?"
I forced a laugh and played along, making small talk until I pieced together what this was—a pool party Roscente had thrown for investors and producers.
No wonder the place was crawling with starlets and models. Even if they didn't land a role in this project, cozying up to the right mogul could pay off later.
But those connections came at a price—usually a night between the sheets.
The thought of Sophia somewhere in this very hotel, debasing herself just like every other woman here, left me torn between fury and despair.
I endured the drunken chaos until dawn, when the party finally sputtered out.
Stepping outside for a smoke, I spotted a couple slipping out of the hotel—both in masks and sunglasses, but I'd recognize her anywhere.
Sophia Laurent.
Director Roscente, too caught up in the festivities to question me, just grinned and said, "Well, since you're here, might as well stay and enjoy yourself!"
In our industry, schmoozing with investors over drinks was practically mandatory—and hiring escorts to "liven up" the party was standard practice.
But this? This was my first time at something so... exclusive.
Now I was trapped—too awkward to leave, too uncomfortable to stay. I perched stiffly on the edge of a couch, nursing my drink like a lifeline.
Before long, a woman slithered into the seat beside me, all honeyed smiles and batting lashes.
"So, I hear you're the screenwriter for Roscente's new project," she purred. "That means you have some pull with casting, right? Think there's a role for someone like me?"
As she spoke, she grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly against her surgically enhanced chest.
Clearly, she hadn't managed to snag Roscente's attention—or any of the other heavy hitters—so now she was settling for me.
I yanked my hand back and scooted away.
Undeterred, she leaned in again, her curves pressing against my side, her manicured fingers making a bold descent toward my belt.
Out of options, I blurted, "Casting isn't my call."
The second she realized I was useless to her, her smile evaporated. Without another word, she stood and stalked off.
That was this world in a nutshell—no real connections, just transactions.
Bodies traded for opportunities, cash exchanged for beauty—it was all part of the game.
For a moment, I zoned out, lost in bitter thoughts. Why had Sophia ever chosen me?
Had she actually admired my talent? Or had she just seen me as a stepping stone—a screenwriter who might open doors for her?
Now, after rubbing elbows with the real power players in this industry, she must have realized the truth: I was just like her—another insignificant ant beneath the boots of money and influence.
No, worse. At least she could climb the ladder on her back. Who knew if I'd ever get my shot?
Roscente's booming voice snapped me back to reality.
"Ethan, why the long face? None of these beauties doing it for you?"
I forced a laugh and played along, making small talk until I pieced together what this was—a pool party Roscente had thrown for investors and producers.
No wonder the place was crawling with starlets and models. Even if they didn't land a role in this project, cozying up to the right mogul could pay off later.
But those connections came at a price—usually a night between the sheets.
The thought of Sophia somewhere in this very hotel, debasing herself just like every other woman here, left me torn between fury and despair.
I endured the drunken chaos until dawn, when the party finally sputtered out.
Stepping outside for a smoke, I spotted a couple slipping out of the hotel—both in masks and sunglasses, but I'd recognize her anywhere.
Sophia Laurent.
End of My Actress Girlfriend Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to My Actress Girlfriend book page.