What the hell was I doing here holding this tray, listening to 'beautiful' people talk about their portfolios while pulling back as much free food and drinks they can mooch off their host?
Hugo gave me a call this morning and told me Drew needed some help with a catering gig. My first thought was, would I be wearing any clothes?
Right now I don't really give a damn. I need some money and I need it quick.
When I showed up this afternoon Drew saw my face and nearly dropped dead.
"If I didn't need the help," he said putting make-up on my face to hide the bruises. "I would send you home."
"If I started my new job sooner. I wouldn't be here."
I got the teaching job with Juliet Cassady. I told her I had to "give notice at my job." I didn't want to tell her that my job was to buy dope for some psyhco cops.
She's some piece of work. I thought she was hurried on the phone, in person she's even worse.
I held out my hand.
Juliet just stood there and looked me over. "You look like something the cat threw up."
I felt like it too. "I got mugged."
"I see."
I made up some cock and bull story about living all my life in New York and not getting robbed once. "I come here and whammo."
"I see."
She showed me the studio. It was okay. I could get back in shape here.
She opened a door and a group of five year olds were spinning into each other like a bunch of tops.
"You'll do one of these classes three times a week."
Kids? Whoa. "Fun."
We went back to her office and sat down.
"You want the job?" she asked.
"Yes and no."
"What do you mean?"
"Yes, I'll take the job. I'd rather be on stage."
She stood up and lifted up her skirt above the knees.
On both of them were huge scars. "I know what you mean."
