What Pretty Girls Are Made Of by Lindsay Jill Roth

Author:Lindsay Jill Roth [Roth, Lindsay Jill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781476798653
Google: llUjBQAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00P42WSFE
Goodreads: 25577179
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2015-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Packed with Antioxidants

We were being tapped for a reality show. The studio, Sally, the artists, corporate, and me. Suddenly, a casting director who knew Sally from QVC was sitting in Sally’s office with his iPhone cued up for her next meeting, after walking around the studio for an hour capturing all happenings in the shop. We hadn’t had prior warning of his visit, but since everyone always has their heads in their phones anyway, he was unobtrusive. Nothing like being on camera to perk up a dreary mid-February day, however.

None of us had signed releases, so I hoped the tape wouldn’t hit the Internet.

“Well, I’m not going to be on a reality show,” Helen said while off camera, hiding in Jolie’s makeup room.

“I would do it,” Jolie purred, “if they paid me lots of money.”

Jennifer nodded along with her, the quiet powwow in full swing.

“You know Sally,” Helen replied. “She’ll expect us to do it for no charge, simply because we work in the store and the store is being filmed.”

I listened but wasn’t getting involved in this discussion, but I agreed with them. I was not willing to appear on a reality TV show. I wondered, though, since I was still a member of the Screen Actors Guild, if I would have to be paid for appearing. Union rules? Letting my mind wander about that was a welcome distraction.

Happy to participate in your show, Sally, I would say over the phone, smiling into the receiver. You can connect with my agent for my rates, which will be per SAG-AFTRA rules. No biggie, though; the show’s going to be great. Maybe then I could be the one to CLICK.

No matter how quick the casting process, it took a while for a show to get up and running. I was hoping to leave Sally Steele before it ever got to that point.

Simon, the casting director, was planning on taking the day’s video and showing it to various packaging agents and producers in the city. From there, hopefully (depending on whom you asked) someone would want to produce the show with a network.

“This wacky place is a reality show,” we often joked after a busy day or a difficult client. Our team probably had just enough crazy karma to be filmed and picked up.

“Listen, girls,” Sally said dramatically when Simon left for the day, “I give you everything you need to succeed here. If that’s a reality show, so be it. Do you think I want to be filmed every day? Hardly. But if it brings traffic to the store, and to my line, I will give it one hundred percent. And I expect you to do so as well.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she doesn’t want to have her face plastered all over Bravo,” Jennifer said quietly, after we all dispersed, Sally’s words still on her mind. “She perks up and her whole demeanor changes when a man walks past her. And she’s saying she doesn’t want to be on television? Hardly.”

“Sally’s father always used to tell her that she belonged on TV,” I said.

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