As soon as Rae and Jared walk inside I step away from the bartender who is attempting, unsuccessfully, to hit on me. He calls after me, asking where I’m running off to, but I don’t look back. I’m not like most women, sure, but I find it difficult to believe those lines work for him, even with his stunning good looks.
Jared’s eyes are wide with interest when we slide into one of the empty booths. “What was that about?” His lips, painted along with half of his face, pull up with his mischievous smirk.
“What?” I shrug, my gaze skirting his to glance at Rae’s raised brows.
“You with that fucking hot piece of man meat.” she says.
“Oh, the dickhead.” I wave my hand across my face. “Nothing.”
“Ugh. Why? Why do you do this?” Jared throws his hands up and slams them onto the table. His arm is crowded with intricate paint that mirrors an open flesh wound.
I glance back to Rae, pointing to what’s certainly her handiwork.
She blinks, tilting her chin with a slight smile. She’s too humble, but the woman should be working on movie sets, not as some assistant to an assistant buyer. She’s so talented with hair and makeup. It’s all self-taught from working in the fashion industry.
“Mia,” Jared says sternly.
“What?” My gaze goes back to his pointed stare and I feign stupidity.
“All the hot guys hit on you and you don’t even care,” he whines and Rae’s laughter fills our corner of the bar.
My lips pull wide with my smile. “You’re right. I don’t.” I shrug while both my friends stare off behind me. They’re openly ogling the bartender. I don’t even have to turn to know. He was really attractive. Tall. Fit. A little more than a five o’clock shadow. Full lips that smile a little too easily. Dirty brown hair with slivers of blond catching the light. Let’s not forget eyes that were made for getting lost in. Too bad he was a typical douchebag.
“But it’s not fair. He’s so pretty. Why are all the good ones straight?” Jared complains.
“Look at that hair. I bet he can pull it back into a manbun.” Rae exhales, a deep sigh with a pout of her lips.
“You really need to get over your Thor obsession.” I shake my head.
Her hand goes to her heart. “Never.”
Their eyes flick to the door again and Jared winces as Rae’s eyes widen a beat before turning her big blues on me. “Shit. I forgot to mention . . .” Her voice fades and I’m thoroughly confused.
“What am I missing here?” I say and Jared won’t even meet my stare.
The table jostles as one of Rae’s best friends . . . and the most annoying human on the planet, props her giant designer bag on top of the table. Violet. She’s an anti-Mia. Bubbly, blonde, flirtatious and everyone’s best friend. Except for me. Because there’s just something about her that rubs me wrong. Rae and Jared know my distaste for this woman, even though I try to hide it—at least from Rae—and I have no doubt they intentionally failed to mention her attendance for today’s outing to save face, or an argument.
“Hey! What’s happening?”
“Mia shooting down hot guy at ten o’clock.” Rae’s gaze darts between us and begs me to be nice. I’ll try.
“Bartender guy? Fuck, Mia. Why do you do that?” Violet smacks her lips and turns to shoot the man of contention a sultry, flirty little smile and wave. “I’m no lumberjack, but I’d down that tree.”
Rae gives her a high five and they all laugh.
Everyone except me.
Violet slides in next to Jared. “But really, Mia. You aren’t getting any younger. A man like that shows interest? You need to get on that.”
“Or under it.” Rae sighs.
“Hell, yes. Please, Mia. If you won’t do it alone, let’s go together. I’d go bi for him. Purely unselfish, of course. To be there for you. Emotional support.” Jared winks, causing Violet and Rae to giggle.
“You guys! Enough! I won’t lower my standards simply because someone looks fantastic in their birthday suit.” I cough when Jared’s grin widens with a raise of his brow. “I mean, I imagine he does.”
“Yeah, he does.” Rae licks her lips.
“He’s not my type.” I say.
Violet eyes me up and down with a thoughtful gleam. “What exactly is your type?”
“Someone who doesn’t act like an asshole.” I retort.
Jared scoffs. “Yeah, good luck finding one of those.”
“Jared gets me.” I blow him an imaginary kiss across the table.
“Jared gets laid regularly. You don’t.” Rae points at me and it’s then I wish I could slap her.
“More to life than sex.” I say.
“Yeah, but . . . manbun. Muscles.” She sighs again and Violet nods.
I restrain myself from rolling my eyes all the way in the back of my head. “How about holds conversation? Has similar interests—”
“So, you’re looking for a walker. Lucky for you we’re joining a pack of them,” Jared interrupts and shoos Violet out of the booth. “Let’s run, chickadees. We can start lining up at eleven o’clock sharp.”
Three hours later we’re still in this godforsaken line. Not surprising, though. Chicago is filled with Walking Dead fans. What we didn’t anticipate, ironically enough, was that so many were also willing to blow off work for the chance to get on screen. Volunteers instruct us to line up, and the crowd wraps around the building three rows deep within minutes.
The first hour goes by quickly. Jared and Rae together are hilarious and outgoing, making friends in line and keeping everyone entertained with their banter. Next, we resort to trading coffee runs to help stay warm and to keep moving on this cloudy September morning. My stomach rumbles, hunger grating on my already unsteady nerves. But there isn’t enough coffee in the world to mute Violet’s twinkling laughter. She’s so damn chipper and I’ve been holding back my snark to keep the peace. That, and not to hurt the cheerleader’s feelings.
The line finally moves and everyone cheers. Excitement, so thick in the air I can taste it, replaces my earlier irritation. I don’t even care that Violet won’t shut up, or that I’ll be working overtime to make up for missed worked today. This is notably the most exciting thing that has happened all year.
We shuffle forward, much like the zombies we portray. As the end of the line comes into sight, extras are selected and invited behind the roped off barrier while others are sent packing—rejected to wander the city in their ripped clothes and face paint.
“Dude, that totally sucks. I might die if we don’t get in.” Violet speaks aloud the worry we all feel.
Rae shakes her head. “No. Don’t even think it. We need all the positive vibes on our side. The universe is being kind today. Look up.” She’s right. The sun, a forlorn lover, has decided to grace the Chicago skyline.
We shuffle closer still and the man in charge evaluates the group in front of us. He’s a tall, skinny, attractive guy with blond hair and blue eyes so light they’re probably contacts. He holds all the power as he chooses who gets to stay and who must go. We hold our collective breath as he sends five more hopefuls packing and only accepts two. Two security men flank him and hold the line. They’re huge, but I have to wonder what good they would do if this entire crowd decided to riot.
We’re up next and the man with ice for eyes regards us each quickly before his stare falls to Jared, looking him up and down with more than an appreciative stare. I don’t miss the way his lips purse together as his gaze lingers. Neither does Jared, by the way he stands a little straighter, and gives the man a slight smile.
Some girl with a tablet and earpiece marches over and interrupts their stare-fest. “Jai, we’re at max. Brenner says no more.”
Jai bats his lashes and winces with her news. His gaze flicks to Jared and for about the thousandth time in our friendship I thank the Lord for my gorgeous gay friend. If there’s any chance we’re making it on set, it’s him.
“A few more?” Jai asks and she rolls her eyes. He flicks his gaze over to us but it’s clear he’s caught up with Jared as his voice drops low. “Be a shame to not fill every possible role.”
Pressing the earpiece against her lobe she must ask the question to the powers that be, because when her gaze snaps up she evaluates the long line and says, “Fine. Three more, but that’s it.”
“Hmm . . .” He pretends to consider who to pick but it’s no surprise when his finger points to Jared, and then moments later, Rae. “You and you.”
They can hardly contain their squeals of excitement as Jai lifts the retractable rope for both to step through. They wait though, when they realize we’re not all following along.
My gaze is trained on Jai, the man who holds the power, and the girl with the important headset as they glance from me to Violet. The woman shrugs and walks away. But Jai stares between us both, clucking his tongue inside his mouth.
“You.” He finally points, but it’s all wrong when his finger goes to Violet.
My heart stops. All the excitement and promise today held instantly deflates along with my ego, crushing my dreams of being an extra on my favorite show of all time. For the first moment in years, I have to fight the desire to crumble into a ball and cry. Tears, big fat, wet ones, gather beneath my lids but I don’t allow them to escape and further worsen today’s embarrassment.
Violet slips beneath the rope and the giant of a bouncer steps back in place to hold his post.
“Any chance we can squeeze room for one more? My best friend here does dead like no one else.” Jared is a sweetheart. A good, good man, and the fact he’s even asking secures him in the best friend for life spot.
“Sorry, man. We’re at max. Besides, she’s too pretty,” Jai says with one more look my way.
Rae laughs, a burst of nervous energy at his answer. “But we’re in? I’m not sure if I should be thankful or offended.”
Jai stops making sexy eyes at Jared to raise his brows and glare at Rae. “You want in or not? I’ve got hundreds behind you that would literally kill for the chance.” When she doesn’t answer he nods his head. “That’s what I thought. Now, follow me.”
“Sorry, Mia.” Jared says, his eyes sad as the group proceeds to walk inside.
I shake my head and force a smile in place. “No. Don’t be. Go! And then come tell me all about it!”
“Meet back at the bar?” he says, but he’s already walking backward.
I shoo him with my arms. “Yeah. See you soon!”
He finally smiles, turns to catch up with Rae and Violet and that stupid line picker guy, Jai.
Too pretty. My ass. I spent a good hour this morning painting guts onto my neck that depict decaying flesh better than an actual dead person. Don’t tell me I’m pretty. Please. I’m so much more than that.
I stay in line even though I doubt there’s much of a chance anyone is coming back for more extras. A guy pops open a bag of ranch flavored chips behind me and the smell makes me want to barf, but still, I hold the front of the line. The bottoms of my feet begin to ache, but I refuse to unlace my badass black boots because as torn as I am about not making it on set, I’m not a quitter.
An hour after Jared, Rae, and Violet disappear, another guy with a headset comes to the front of the line. My heart leaps with hope but when I realize he’s holding a bag and not a tablet, it sinks again. He can’t be that important if he doesn’t have an iPad.
“Good afternoon! I want to thank everyone for being so awesome and answering our call for the show. You all are what this is about. Unfortunately, we are at max, but the show and the producers don’t want you going home empty handed. Everyone here today will receive a complimentary lanyard. Thank you so much again. Safe travels home.”
He and a couple of volunteers ceremoniously hand out the consolation prize, a fucking lanyard, but all I can do is recall how that ray of sunshine Violet took my spot. She’s annoying as it is, and had she not come today I totally would have been inside with my best friend and his sis, having the fucking time of my life instead of traipsing back to the bar with nothing more than extra self-pity. Can’t carry that with my new lanyard!
Fucking Violet.
Fucking Jai.
Fucking Walking Dead.