Julie Kenner - L.A. Confidential

“Because I’m an idiot.” She scooted backward and slipped off the bed to start packing again, this time taking more care to fold each item. After a second she sighed and looked him in the eye. “Okay. You win. I took it because it’s the best shot I’ve had in a long time.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You just want me in L.A. so you can have the bedroom.”

“True enough.”

He laughed, but she knew he was only half joking. They shared the one-bedroom apartment with two others, a flight attendant and another actor/waiter. Each month, one of them got dibs on the bedroom and the others shared the living room with its three foam chairs that pulled out into tiny beds. So much for pop culture’s perception about life in the big city. Monica and Rachel might have their own bedrooms and a humongous apartment, but Friends was a far cry from Lisa’s reality.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, realizing she was biting her lower lip. “Yeah. Just nervous. If I can pull off the locations, I’ll get a producer credit.” She looked him in the eye. “And if the film does well, that means my career will be back on track. I’ve got a lot riding on this job, and for all I know Ken’s just going to slam the door in my face.”

“Then you won’t be any worse off than you are now.” He moved to sit on the bed. “But I think you’re going to do great.”

Her smile felt watery. “Thanks. I appreciate you going out on a limb for me. Really.”

“What can I say? I’m a heck of a guy.”

“You?” she teased. “I hadn’t noticed.”

His grin widened. “No? You should pay more attention.”

At that, she laughed outright then her smile faded to a frown again. “I’m just afraid Ken’s going to laugh in my face. And I wouldn’t blame him one bit. I was a bitch. Self-centered and stupid.”

“Ah, but now you’re a reformed bitch. Or at least you’re a charter member of Bitches Anonymous and firmly on the wagon.”

She managed a smile, wondering if it was true. If it came down to it, would she do the same thing all over again?

“Seriously,” he continued, “there’s no crime in wanting to focus on your career.”

“I know. But I’m sure he thinks I left him for Tyrell, not for Tyrell’s job offer.” She sighed. “Besides, fat lot of good it did me. I came out here expecting to return to L.A. in triumph, and look at me. I’m going back now with less in my checking account than when I was fresh out of school.”

“I don’t think Ken’s going to care about your checkbook.”

“Except to feel some smug satisfaction that I blew it.”

Greg’s smile was patient. Clearly he knew she was in one of her moods. “The way you’ve described him, I don’t think he’s the holier-than-thou type.”

She wasn’t ready to concede. “Maybe not five years ago, but he’s Mr. Big Shot now.”

“And a damn good-looking Mr. Big Shot, too,” Greg said.

“He’s not your type.” She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Too bad.”

“Do you know I went to the opening of Oxygen? That was the night he was going to ask me to marry him. Of course, I found that out later, after I told him I was moving back to New York. Not a very happy memory, and now I’m supposed to go back and ask to film there? Do you have any idea how many old wounds this is going to open?”

“So don’t take the job.”

“Ha, ha.” Taking a fortifying breath, she latched her suitcase and tugged it off the bed. “Wish me luck. I’m off to beg a favor from my ex-boyfriend.”

“Good luck.”

She paused in the doorway. “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

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