Lola returned home from another audition in Studio City (it wasn’t even in Hollywood), peeled off all her clothes, and laid down in an unconscious, if heavenly, crucifix position, on the living room rug. This is insane, she thought.
She counted the number of auditions her agent had sent her out on this month, and it was not a beautiful number. It was an odd and ugly number, whose two digits seemed to point accusing fingers at one another.
Just then, her phone rang, and as she picked up the receiver, she could hear her friend, Beth, chirp, “Hey Lola, honey, listen. Whatever you do, just don’t say ‘No’ to my brilliant idea.”
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