It was dark when the alarm went off, but I was already awake. "Get up Greg!"

I was working on a Coke commercial that day and had gotten Greg a job as a PA/runner. He'd get $75.00 and I would get $150.00. We'd make rent.

Greg moaned, "Oh my God, it's still dark."

"Welcome to the glamour of the entertainment industry," I mumbled. "We've got to get going."

"All right, all right."

I made coffee and before you knew it we were on Pacific Coast Highway driving north, the sun now rising across our smiling but sleepy faces.

Greg pushed in a 10,000 Maniacs tape and leaned back. "Actually, it's kind of nice being up this early. You feel like you're really starting the day.

I looked out at the ocean and we both sat in silence, thinking the same thing. "It's so beautiful here, I guess this is the other reason to move to LA." I said.

"What's the first reason?" He asked seriously.

"To be who you truly are."

Greg then told me about Hillary crying and we were quiet for a while, until Greg asked what he would have to do as a Production Assistant.

"I don't know. Everything. Just do what they tell you and don't screw up."

"I won't." He was defensive.

"That's it." I zipped into the beach parking lot quickly, looking for a parking place, when suddenly Greg yelled something and I slammed on the brakes just before hitting her. I looked again. Was that who I thought it was?

She gave me the finger and yelled, "Watch it!" It was. It was Cindy, "The Cindy." She stormed off into the make-up trailer and when I looked back at Greg he was leaning over trying to catch his breath from laughing.

"You mean, don't YOU screw it up, Fran. You almost ran over the star."

"She was so beautiful."

"Yes, and she gave you the finger."

"I didn't know she was the talent." I felt myself falling into astupor.

"Hey, Fran, Fran, wake up, she gave you the finger."

"Well, it's a start."

I parked and the AD came over. He was short with black hair and his name was Harry. He took Greg away and sent me to a small wardrobe trailer. There were two outfits for Cindy to choose from so I walkedover to the make-up trailer to ask her which one she preferred.

I knocked. I heard her sexy voice announce, "Come in."

She sat in the leather chair with her hands wrapped around a big mug of coffee. Even with a pasty face and her hair in curlers she was beautiful-- and sexy. "Cindy, I'm Fran, I'll be your stylist."

She looked at me and then back to her hairstylist, "This is the chick that just about killed me a few minutes ago." She turned back to me, "You always drive like that?"

"No." I knew I sounded like an idiot.

"Let's see what you got there."

I held up a cotton red and white stripe clingy dress and the same in a pant suit.

"Guess I'm supposed to match the soda can, what do you think?"

"I think that's the idea." I laughed like a buffoon.

Again, another glance at the hairdresser and back at me, "Ah, just the dress, I guess."

"All right." I couldn't move.

"Is there anything else?"

"No," I mumbled. "Just that I think you're really great. I love your Style show. I want to be a designer." I had no idea I could be this much of a geek.

"Well, I wish you luck. Now why don't you start with ironing that."

"Oh, oh yeah, I will."

I headed for the door, but before I left she stopped me, "Hey Fran, right?" I nodded. "Maybe sometime you'll show me a design?"

I think my grin exceeded my cheeks, "Absolutely, great, thanks."