Page 20 of Motion to Dismiss

I’m at your campus. Why are they saying you’re not enrolled here???

Dad needs to SEE all of us this afternoon. Where are you?

Going against Antonio’s advice, I type my father’s name into a Google search. The results fill my screen, but the headlines only tell part of the story.

“Esteemed Businessman, Lucas Hunter Indicted”

“Self-Made Multi-Millionaire Lucas Hunter Arrested on Federal Charges”

“Top Charity Donor, Lucas Hunter, Facing Several Troubling Charges”

I wonder how long it’ll be until their description of him changes.

Antonio’s name flashes across my screen for the umpteenth time, but I can’t bring myself to answer.

I know for a fact that Jameson will handle this with ease, and this won’t be a problem within hours.

I also know that he and the rest of my family can’t hold any more space in my life.

I have to keep working toward that…

Stuffing my phone into my purse, I take a deep breath and walk inside the theater. I slip into a seat at the back of the auditorium like I’ve done all week.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Professional Drama & Dreams Cohort!” The tour manager, a gray-haired man named Graham, steps onto the stage.

“You have officially made it to the final round of the audition process, and no matter what happens at the end of the week, I want you to know that you’re already a star in my book.”

I suppress my disappointment with a fake smile.

My bank account is down to three weeks of savings, and if I don’t land a guaranteed paying role soon, I’ll have to check out of my room at the Holiday Inn and find a creative way to sleep at night.

“You’re not in any financial trouble, are you?” Jameson’s words suddenly sift through my mind, uninvited.

If only he knew.

“Going in alphabetical order by last name, we’ll start with a cluster of five male actors,” Graham says, “then five females, until everyone has finished the readings. You’re free to stay and watch your peers, or you can leave and return at your designated audition time. When I call your name…”

The rest of his words fade into the background.

There are one hundred hopefuls here, and with “Winters,” I’m certain I won’t see my turn until later this afternoon.

I consider leaving and checking for my time in a few hours, but the sight of staffers setting bagels and juices at the back of the room stops those thoughts at once.

Free breakfast and audition-watching it is.

Making my way toward the table, I try not to look too desperate. I slip two apple juices into my purse before spreading cream cheese on a cinnamon bagel.

“I think I might have to snitch on you,” a deep voice says from behind. “You’re only supposed to take one of each.”

“Are you the food police?” I turn around to see a gorgeous blond guy I’ve seen at a few other auditions.

He’s usually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that hugs his muscles, but today he’s wearing a suit.

It doesn’t fit as perfectly as Jameson’s custom suits, though.

“I’m not the food police at all. I’m Cole.” He flashes a set of pearly whites. Then he grabs another juice and slips it into my bag for me. “I was just trying to think of a clever way to ask you out.”

“Oh.”