Thick globs of dressing dripped from the salad leaf speared onto Melanie’s fork as I told her about my Friday night over lunch the following Monday. Bonded by our equal status of being at the bottom of the company’s totem pole, we’d started taking our lunch breaks together fairly early on in my internship. I’d come to consider her a pretty good friend, despite the fact that she refused to eat anywhere that wasn’t organic, authentic, or horribly overpriced. It had been six weeks, but I still didn’t know how to tell her that her so-called healthy eating habits were cancelled out by the obscene amounts of ranch that she drowned her kale and quinoa in.

            “Wow,” Melanie said between thoughtful pauses in her chewing. “That’s nuts. No one saw you taking her home, though, right?”

            I shook my head. “We had a close call with some photographers but I don’t think they recognized her.”

            And if they did, at least they didn’t get a picture of her, I thought to myself as the image of White Hat’s knowing smile taunted me from a place in the back of my mind.

            “I was actually more worried about you,” Melanie said, wiping her mouth with the napkin draped across her lap.

            “Me?” I asked, unsure if I’d heard her correctly.

            “Yeah, didn’t you know? Our company was hit with a huge sexual harassment lawsuit a few years ago. Apparently some of the agents had been getting jobs for their clients in exchange for the clients performing some jobs for them, if you catch my drift.” Melanie raised her eyebrows suggestively and I couldn’t stop my ears from reddening. “Penny told me that after the case settled, the company started looking pretty closely at employees who were caught hanging out with the talent after hours.”

            “Nothing happened,” I said defensively.

            “No, I believe you,” Melanie said. “Though, I will say that if yelling at a girl is your way of trying to get her to hook up with you, we should probably talk.”

            “Shut up,” I groaned, pushing my half-eaten veggie burger away from me. I really needed to start pushing for us to go to more mutually appealing dining establishments. “If you’d seen the amount of vomit in Sophie’s hair Friday night, you’d know that was the last thing on my mind Saturday morning.”

            “Still,” Melanie said, pausing to thank the waiter who’d stopped by to refill her water glass. “If I were you, I’d apologize a few more times about yelling at her, just in case she’s the vengeful type.”

            I frowned at her comment. “I said I was sorry when I thought she was crying and she laughed at me.”

            “That’s probably because it was a lot easier for her to pretend like she didn’t care than to admit that you actually hurt her feelings,” Melanie countered and I stared at my plate, waiting for her to continue. “Parker, Sophie Winters used to be the prized gem of Hollywood. Sure, the tabloids rip on her all of the time now, but I doubt anyone she’s close to has ever called her out for anything, let alone knocked her off her pedestal like you did.”

            “We aren’t close, though. I’ve only met her a few times, and one of those meetings involved me nearly becoming roadkill.”

            “I get that, but think of it from Sophie’s perspective. If her best friend is really the kind of person who would sell her out to promote himself, I think she’d consider someone who’s had her back even once or twice a shoe-in candidate for friendship.”

            I thought about that for a moment before replying, “When exactly did you jump on the Sophie bandwagon?”

            Melanie smiled but didn’t answer, choosing instead to ask a passing waitress for our check.

            “I’m serious,” I said, reaching into my wallet and tossing a twenty onto the table.

            Melanie placed her credit card on top of the bill that I’d set down and then leaned forward, cupping her face in her hands. “I’m not on any bandwagon. I just think that she could benefit from spending time with someone like you.”

            “What does that even mean?” I muttered while raising my glass to my lips and taking a long swallow of water.

            “Well, for one thing, you’re nice. But more importantly, you know what people need.”

            “I’m not following.”

            “Take the first time that we met, for example. Clients had been yelling at me on the phone all morning, Michael kept calling me Melissa, or Morgan, or whatever he’s convinced my name is, and on top of that, he dropped the task of cleaning your office on my lap. I can’t think of a worse day, can you?”

            “I mean, I got hit by a car that afternoon.”

            “Parker.”

            “Sorry,” I said. “Go on.”

            Melanie dismissed my interruption with an impatient wave of her hand. “What I’m trying to say is that most people don’t think about the feelings of someone they’ve just met, but you did. That melted chocolate bar you brought me honestly made my day.”

Embarrassed, I scratched the back of my neck. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

            “Right.” Melanie nodded. “It wasn’t a big deal to you, but it was to me. That was the first time I’d felt appreciated by someone at work since being hired a yearago.”

            Silence settled over our table as we waited for our server to return with my change and Melanie’s Visa. What did Sophie need? A reality check would be ideal but I’d clearly proven incapable of giving it to her. All our discussion on Saturday had accomplished was affirming the sad truth that I’d rather be tossed onto a battlefield with a target hanging around my neck than deal with a girl crying. The fact that she’d fooled me so easily with her fake tears made me wonder how many of my exes had used a similar ruse to get what they wanted from me.

            Aside from a personality reform, the only thing that I could think of Sophie really needing was a job, and although it might bruise her ego to stoop beneath acting in an award-winning blockbuster, I didn’t think that she’d be particularly picky about which job I found for her at this point. It would serve a dual purpose, too. In addition to giving her something to do and hopefully keeping her out of trouble, she would see that I was trying to uphold my side of our deal. Although, considering the fact that so few directors wanted to work with her, I couldn’t imagine her being a great help in convincing them to mentor me.

            “Ready?” Melanie asked, signing her name on the receipt before her with a flourish of her pen.

            I nodded, surprised that I hadn’t noticed the waiter return, and pocketed my change, leaving a few bills behind to cover the tip. We were halfway back to the office when Melanie interrupted my rant on the shortage of decent offerings in the front desk’s candy bowl by asking, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

            Shrugging, I replied, “No idea. Flights home were too expensive so I’ll probably just bum around here.”

“That’s so depressing. Well, if you want to go down to Newport with me that weekend, my family loves taking in strays,” Melanie offered with a smile.

“Seriously?” I asked, suddenly hopeful that my favorite holiday wouldn’t be spent on my couch eating sliced deli turkey with a side of canned cranberries.  

“Of course,” Melanie said. “When I told my mom that I’d finally made a friend at work, she’d practically insisted. A couple of my friends from school will probably be there, too, so it won’t be awkward or anything. Should I tell my parents you’re coming?”

“I’m in as long as you’re sure it’s cool with them. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Ear plugs and Advil are always advised at any Schroeder family event that my brother’s kids are coming to,” Melanie joked and I laughed.

As we crossed the pedestrian bridge that spanned the heavily trafficked street beneath us, I glanced up at our looming office building and the excitement that had come from the prospect of a family-cooked meal was quickly replaced with anxiety. Sensing where my thoughts had drifted to, Melanie linked her arm with mine and elbowed me gently in the ribs.

“Don’t worry, Parker,” she said. “I’ll give you warning and time to run if there’s a Sophie spotting.”

“I don’t want to avoid her,” I said. “I just don’t like telling girls bad news, and that’s all I have for her right now.”

Melanie sighed dramatically and clasped her free hand over her heart. “If only you were two years older, you’d be perfect.”

I rolled my eyes at the comment but said nothing in response. I knew that I was like a little brother in Melanie’s eyes, and she was only a great friend in mine, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t enjoy flirting with her now and then. Under ordinary circumstances, I would’ve come up with an equally cheesy retort, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything but Sophie and my promise to her.

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Later that day, I sat in my office with a pen balanced above my upper lip as I scrolled through casting notices on my computer. As usual, the screen froze after each new page that I loaded, and I passed the time by doodling idly on a pad of Post-Its beside me. I’d left voicemails for five directors in the three hours that I’d been back from lunch, yet the only phone call that I’d received had been from HR, scolding me for failing to clock into work that morning. It was starting to look as if today would be another wash on the audition front and the likely truth of that upset me even more now than it had Friday night.

The hard drive of my desktop let out an angry whirring noise as the next list of available roles slowly filled in. The first twenty or so would’ve been perfect for Sophie--if she were fifty years old, a toddler, or an “urban male between 19-30”. Rubbing my eyes with the heel of my palm, I’d moved my cursor so that it hovered over the the Next button before noticing a name towards the bottom of the screen that made my heart skip a beat.

    Since moving to Los Angeles, I’d come to realize that three subtypes of people lived in this city. The first type consisted of Foodies, or people who prided themselves on being able to name the best Thai, French, and Brazilian restaurants within a twenty mile radius of wherever they happened to be. The second group was comprised of people like Melanie. Obsessively concerned with how they looked, the Health Nuts in L.A. could always be found at one of the trendy, yet horribly overpriced Solstice fitness clubs, discussing the latest juice cleanse that they were on, and establishing bragging rights amongst their peers by making a scene whenever the fruits and vegetables served at restaurants weren’t certified organic.

The third group that existed was fairly new to the scene as far as I could tell, but it was by far the largest. Filled with men and women who cared about their image but hated the taste of seitan and pressed radishes, the Pseudo-Health Nuts strove to be seen as an elite eating group without making the sacrifices of the truly health conscious. To appease the PHNs, restaurants and snack companies began combining the flavors that appealed to foodies with the words that drew in Health Nuts. Chocolate infused kale began filling the shelves of supermarkets, along with seaweed chips, and vegan pastries. The biggest company to approach marketing from that angle was Thorne Corporation, which opened dozens of branches of the Frosting cupcake bakery around southern California. The rich and famous were constantly pictured around town with soy confections in their hands while feeding their poodles cake-shaped dog treats also sold by the chain. The cupcakes had a cult-like following in the city and Thorne coined in millions of dollars each year from people who wanted to eat their junk food and feel good, too.

Apparently Thorne Corp had finally pulled in enough revenue to start running print and television commercials. The casting notice that I was greedily reading stated that Thorne was looking for someone fit and recognizable, but that still looked like he or she could enjoy a cupcake without bursting into tears over the calorie count. The director’s name and phone number was listed at the end of the notice but instead of picking up the phone on my desk, I reached into my back pocket and slid out my cell.

As I searched through my contacts, I became nervous that I’d deleted the number that I now needed. To my relief, the digits were still saved from freshman pledge semester and I hit dial without hesitating. The phone rang and I began to tap my pen rapidly against the desk before me.

The second ring came and I scowled. “I know you’re not in class, bro,” I muttered under my breath. “What are you doing?”

Third ring.

“Come on, answer the phone, you lazy piece of--”

“Parker?”

The sound of Phil Thorne’s voice startled me, and it took me a moment to turn on my brotherly charm.

“Hey, man,” I said smoothly. “What’s been up?”

“Jennings, what the hell’s been up with you, dude? Scott told me you’re working for Michael.”

“Yeah, uh, it’s been interesting.”

“Dude, don’t lie. How much does it suck, really?”

I laughed but didn’t respond. Melanie had once teased me that every room in the office was wired with a camera. I doubted it was true, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to risk slamming Michael on tape and getting wrecked by him in return.

“Hey, listen, Phil, I know it’s been a while but I was hoping you could help me out.” I said, tightening my grip on my pen as I waited for his response. A loud belch came over the line and I grit my teeth until he finally replied.

“Sure, Parker,” Phil said. “What do you need?”

“This is kind of random, but your family still owns Thorne Corp, right?”

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A/N: Ahhh, my dear readers, I failed at updating quickly. Thank you to those of you who are loyal and patient enough to put up with my ten day gaps in posting! And thank you to all who read in general. It means a lot to get feedback and know that there are people out there enjoying this story.

This chapter is dedicated to @KeriAnnL. I'm so appreciative to have a reader like her and you should all go check out "The Model Spy" on her page. She's a lovely writer and I'm sure you'll enjoy reading her story.

Also, I quit my job so come August 16, I will be focusing on writing and applying to school. Yay?!