Get Dirty by Gretchen McNeil

Author:Gretchen McNeil
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Balzer + Bray
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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TWENTY-SEVEN

OLIVIA WAS A PANICKED MESS BY THE TIME SHE GOT HOME from school. Peanut, her usual ride home, had disappeared after school was dismissed, forcing Olivia to take the bus. Which was fine, except for the fact that every single underclassman taking public transportation home was watching either Rex’s birthday video or Amber’s fat-camp photo montage on their phones. She was literally surrounded by DGM. Her brain swirled with recent events: the new pranks, the warehouse fire, the envelopes. It was as if everyone on the bus was taunting her, and with every passing second, she became more and more desperate to escape. By the time she reached her stop, she wanted nothing more than to run to her room, dive into her stash of packaged baked goods, and hide under the covers for the rest of the night.

“Livvie!”

Her mom bolted across the living room and tackle-hugged Olivia the moment she opened the front door, squeezing her so hard, she had to gasp for air.

“You won’t believe what happened today,” her mom cried. She broke away and gripped her daughter by the shoulders. “I’ve been offered . . .” She let her voice trail off intentionally, her eyes wide as she prolonged the drama of her announcement. “A one-woman show off-Broadway.”

Olivia cocked her head. “But we’re in California.”

Her mom clicked her tongue. “I know that, silly. The Lady’s Curse is previewing in San Jose. Charles says—”

“Charles?”

She laughed. “The producer. Charles says they’re already guaranteed a month-long run at the HERE Arts Center in SoHo. Can you believe it?”

Actually, no. Olivia couldn’t believe it at all. “How?”

Olivia’s mom took her by the hand and dragged her to the sofa. “I was working the lunch shift and this guy approached me at the bar. Youngish, attractive. He said I looked familiar but, you know, that’s every guy’s line when they’re trying to pick up the bartender. Anyway, I was like, ‘yeah, whatever,’ but he was really persistent. Finally he snapped his fingers and said, ‘Twelfth Night at the Public, 1998. Am I right?’”

“He remembered you from like seventeen years ago?”

“Why is that strange?” her mom snapped. “It was a smash hit and my reviews were amazing. ‘June Hayes entranced as Olivia . . .’”

“‘A fantastic, exhilarating new face at the Public,’” Olivia said, completing the review. “I know. It just seems so . . .” Convenient? Unlikely?

“Don’t be jealous,” her mom said, pouting like a ten-year-old. “You’re not the only one in this family with acting prospects. How do you think it felt to have Fitzgerald Conroy see us living in this dump, me heading off to my shitty bartending job? I was supposed to be somebody.”

Olivia recognized the frenzied tone of the voice, the way her mom’s eyes darted around the room. She was on the upswing of one of her manic episodes, probably ignited by Fitzgerald’s visit, and now the flame had been fanned by some hack producer promising the moon. Olivia would have to tread lightly.

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