As soon as I get inside the apartment, I drop my purse on the couch and go to the sink to get a glass of water. I turn the tap, but nothing more than a trickle comes out. “Damn it.”

“What,” Heather asks as she flings herself on the sofa and closes her eyes.

“The water, did we pay the bill?”

“Hell if I know. Probably not.”

“I thought I paid that the other day,” I say. “I can’t keep up with this crap.” I walk away from the sink, grabbing my laptop from the counter before I plop down on the sofa next to her.

“What are you doing?” Heather asks, peering at me through one halfway opened eye.

“Looking for another job.”

“No…”

“That kid’s show was my only shot. I got turned down for a hemorrhoid commercial the other day, Heather. How many people want to be the spokeswoman for rectal itching, huh? Evidently a lot.”

“Just get another waitressing job.”

“Fuck no.” I pull up the classifieds.

Heather groans. “Didn’t you just go on some audition for another commercial or something?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Vagisil.”

This is what I have been degraded to, hoping to be the face America associates with a dry vagina. Fuck my life right now. “I have to get a job,” I say.

“Who are you? I don’t even know who you are right now. I want my carefree friend back, the one who tells Kristen Stewart to go fuck herself because she would have played a much better Bella Swan.”

“I need to figure out what I’m actually gonna do with my life.”

“Well, didn’t you say a few people had called David about porn.”

I snap my head to the side and glare at her. “Really?” I say.

“Yeah, I mean, I watched the whole video of you and Stone, and all I have to say is damn—you are flexible!”

Rolling my eyes and huffing, I swat at her. “The fact that you watched that is so fucked up.”

“Nah, it’s not,” she says. “Morbid curiosity. Stone Steele if fucking banging. My vagina is jealous.”

“Yeah, banging but not worth the shit I’m dealing with right now.”

“Well, he tweeted he was sorry.”

I glare at her.

“Look,” she says. “All things happen for a reason, right?”

“Uh, no.”

She pats me on the head like a child. “Sure they do.”

“Heather…”

“You make a porn video on the phone with a rock star—I mean, who does that…”

“Heather…”

“And then somehow it gets on the internet…”

“Heather…” My glare hardens.

“And then you do porn!”

“Again, no!”

“Look, that’s your golden ticket.”

She has lost her fucking mind.

“Seriously, Jenna Jameson, she ended up in movies.”

“What movies?”

“There was that Zombie Strippers or something like that. I mean, it may have tanked, but still, she was in a movie. You were destined to suck his cock. Sucking that cock will lead you to fame. If you suck it, they will come.” She giggles. “Oh, shit, I didn’t mean like come as in jizz…” she laughs so hard she snorts. “I think I have a hidden talent with sexual innuendos.”

“Well, I don’t have porn boobs, so I think I just need to become a dentist or something.”

“Quitter.”

I roll my eyes. “Quitter?”

“Yep. Little bit of resistance and you’re going to take the easy route. Fucking dentist,” she says under her breath.

“Being a dentist is not easy.”

She tosses her hands in the air. “How hard can it be to look at someone’s teeth and drill holes in them?”

“Heather…” The song “Come Down” by Bush blares from across the room, prompting me to get up to find my phone.

“I’m just saying, most celebs hit rock bottom before the make it big. You can’t quit before you’ve even hit rock bottom.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I grab my purse and dig through it.

Heather grumbles as she rolls off of the couch. “I’m going back to bed. My vagina is sore, my head is pounding, and I can’t adult right now.” 

My phone is still ringing, and when I pull it from my purse, I see David’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jemma…”

“Yeah…”

“So,” he sighs which is never good. “You didn’t get the Vagisil commercial.”

I swallow. Honestly, tears are welling in my eyes right now. This is beyond sad. It was a Vagi-fucking-sil commercial. I could have been out in a club, and a guy could have come up to me and thought—Vagisil girl, but those dreams have been shot to shit.

“Thanks,” I say.

“So, I know you need some money. I have a friend—a director friend—that needs a new PA.”

My ears perk up, and I suck back the tears. “Really?”

“Yeah, uh, Hudson Matthews, you heard of him?”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Well,” he says. “He wants you to send him your resume. He knows you may have auditions and is willing to be flexible, so it’s kinda ideal. I’ll text you his email, okay?”

I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Thanks, David.”

“Yeah, no problem…but hey, look him up first okay. Make sure you’re okay with it, but he’ll pay you well.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

I hang up the phone and lie down, closing my eyes to take a nap and deny that my one shot at my dream has gone to shit. Fuck men. Fuck sex. And fuck amateur porn.