“If you want to be seen as a mature actress, you’ll need more things like that dress. Think Ralph Lauren and less Lauren Conrad.”
My lips weigh down at the corners knowing half my wardrobe consists of things I bought from cheaper boutiques around the city. Things that are cute without being ridiculously overpriced. Sometimes I forget that’s not a good thing in this industry.
“My clothes are—”
“Not what you need to be seen in,” she cuts me off, finality in her tone. “The character you’re playing is 24, and most of the other roles you’ll audition for in the future will be for the same age range if this goes as planned. You can’t be seen as a nineteen-year-old.”
“But I am nineteen.”
I’m greeted with another sigh. “Addy, I hate to be the one to remind you, but you walked into this industry knowing the expectations. They don’t want another kid actor playing the big money makers unless you’re five and have a toothy smile that the world will “ooh” and “aww” over. You started late, which means you have a lot more to prove. If buying sexy clothes that show off your killer body is what you have to do, I’d hardly call that a hardship.”
She’s right, as much as I hate to admit it.
It isn’t like I hate shopping or don’t have the money for it. It just feels unnecessary. Grandma Rose always drilled it in my head to save instead of buying things I didn’t need. She’d go on and on about our family’s struggles during the Great Depression and how important it is to be frugal and invest in the right things.
I’ve never looked my age, even when I was younger. It just took losing some baby fat and getting a little taller for people to see that.
And it isn’t like I dress terribly. I just prefer jeans and tees over dresses and heels. I don’t like going crazy with makeup, and the only time I wear jewelry is when I’m being dolled up for award shows.
No matter what Jill says, I’ve never sported a baby face or a body that lacked some form of womanly curves. But I definitely grew into my assets within the last few years, which people like my agent like to use to their advantage when it comes to finding me auditions.
And let’s face it. Daire never would have touched me if I looked my age. Not when we kissed two years ago, and certainly not now.
Jill breaks my train of thought. “You are going to be the talk of the country in a matter of months. So, suck it up, get your hair done, get your nails done, and for the love of God, ditch those hideous shoes you always wear.”
I stare down at my feet, covered in a pair of cheetah print Vans. They’re my favorite and definitely show the wear they’ve seen over the years. The off-white laces are frayed, and the soles have no grip on them anymore.
Grandma Rose gave them to me.
“I have a meeting for another client. I’ll check on you later,” she tells me before hanging up.
I stare at the blank screen and slowly lower it back down to the counter. I’m studying my face ready to be contoured with makeup wondering what kind of image I’d be giving off to the world if I started dressing to show my long legs and pert butt like I was emphasizing last night.
Would Daire notice? Would he care? Would more people like him look at me with the same intensity he did when he rescued me from Marigold at the party?
I work hard to keep in shape, so it wouldn’t be awful to show my effort off in more than workout leggings and a sports bra like I’m sometimes photographed in when I’m leaving the gym. Or the simple yet cute outfits—loose tees and skinny jeans, that I’m pictured in when I’m out with Noah. I can only imagine what Jill would say if she saw the pajama sets I wear around my apartment that feature dancing avocados and eggs.
Sighing, I put down my makeup and stare at my reflection a little harder.
When I leave, it’s only with lipstick and a smile on my face.
* * *
The dread spreading through my body as I stare at the high rise decorated in Christmas lights and festive decorations makes me feel uneasy. Noah, his parents, and all of their friends and family are in the penthouse where I know a carefully decorated eight-foot tree is standing in the corner with presents surrounding it. Cheesy holiday music is probably coming from the high-end speaker system and there’s more than likely spiked eggnog being passed around the room.
My red heels are plastered to the sidewalk as the breeze kicks up my wavy hair and caresses the areas of skin that are bare from the dress I’m wearing. As much as I wanted to wear something casual, Noah’s family goes above and beyond for their Christmas celebration which means dressing to the nines to fit in.
Jill would be proud.
The black dress is fitted below my bust to show off the small of my waist and flares around my hips, landing just above mid-thigh. I painted my fingernails to match the shoes that I know Daire will hate when he sees them. The only reason he’s in the city is for the holidays. Once the night is over, he’ll go back to his hotel, sleep for a few hours, and hop into his Jeep to head back upstate where he’s made a life for himself.
But for the night I’d have to deal with the repercussions of our actions whether I want to or not. And I really, really don’t want to.
“You going in or do you plan on bailing?” a voice asks.
When I turn, my lips part a fraction.
Daire stands there looking…
Like the exact opposite of last night. A long sleeve black Henley replaces the button down he wore and in place of the black slacks are a pair of worn dark denim. I know his mother will chide him for not dressing up, but I can’t help but to appreciate the way his clothes fit. They’re not painted on like mine, but they definitely don’t hide the work that he’s put into his body either.
His eyes go to my shoes before tsking. “I see you never learn.”
My eyes go down to my feet, a small smile on my face. “They’re the only ones I have that match the occasion.”
When I glance back up, he’s rolling his eyes at the bullshit he knows I’m spewing and turns back to the tall building in front of us. “They wouldn’t care what you showed up in. They love you too much to make a scene.”
He acts as if they don’t love him the same way, not that he seems to care. If he did, he would have put more effort into his attire tonight instead of making some sort of point.
We have a stare off as the wind picks up, making my skin pimple with chill. I rub my arms and shake my head, not knowing what to say and not willing to stay out here to freeze half to death.
So, I walk around him to the front entrance.
The regular doorman smiles at me. “Hello again, Addy. Excited for Christmas?”
I smile at the gray-haired man who has always been nothing but polite to me. “I always am, Remi. You know it’s my favorite. Did your daughter fly in for it or is she spending time with her husband’s family in California?”
His eyes brighten, something they always do when his daughter is brought up. “My sweet Delaney surprised me this morning. If I’d known, I would have asked for the day off. She and the kids are baking cookies back at my place.”
“I’m sure it’ll smell delicious when you get back. Maybe you can leave early. I can ask someone for you if you’d like.”