Listening to this, all I could think was,more embarrassing than the nipple? Really?
But I didn't say it, because I was coming to a startling realization. I actually liked her. She was refreshingly honest, especially for a friend of Bianca's.
But I still felt like I was missing something. "About today," I asked, "did Bianca send you here?"
"Not exactly." She glanced around. "But about the co-star thing, she never got back to me. And now, I can't seem to reach her. I didn't have her home-address, so I figured I'd come here, straight to the source."
By now, I was actually feeling sorry for her. "And you said Bianca's afriend?"
Some friend.
She considered my question. "Well, wearemembers of the same theatre group."
Curious, I asked, "What kind?"
She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just a local thing. But hey, you never know when you'll catch that big break, right?" She smiled. "And once I learned of the co-star job, I was all in."
I recalled the scene from the convention center.
All in?
Not so much.
As nicely as I could, I said, "I’m really sorry to tell you this, but there's no co-star job."
Her smile faded. "There isn't?"
I shook my head. "And there never was."
"But Bianca said…" Her words trailed off, like she didn't know where to go from there.
Hoping to spare her some grief, I said, "Bianca doesn't even work for him."
Her face froze. "She doesn't?"
"No. And they're not even friends. Not really."
She was frowning now. After a long moment, she muttered, "That bitch."
And the way it looked, she didn't mean me.
