The treadmill increased its speed again and Janna English moved from an easy lope into an outright run. Her feet pounded on the moving surface, her body gleamed golden beneath the gym lights, and sweat slicked her skin and made her glow. She checked her form in both the front and side mirrors. Shoulders up. Head erect. Knees up. Arms loose. Her hair, swept back in a loose ponytail, stuck to her neck in places. Irritating.
I will get the part, she told herself. I will be the best actress to audition. The director and producer will see me as the main character, they will have seen my work in Blackout and they will be impressed. They will want me. They will want me.
Paul from Building C stepped into the main gym from the sauna, wearing a towel around his waist. He was close to forty, with thin legs and ugly feet. He was a pathetically unimaginative lover, too, but he did have his strong points. She smiled at him.
He leaned against the mirror right in front of her, which prevented her from checking her forward form, and smiled back at her.
"Hi, babe. Want to go back to the apartment and screw before I go to work? My friend and I miss you."
He pulled the towel aside to show her how much he missed her.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said, maintaining her pace. "Management monitors the gym. And I can't come back with you. I'm working out." She needed to not lose her temper with him. He had a ridiculous amount of money in his bank account, and she was short enough on funds that some of it would come in useful, if they could stay friends. Or if she could maintain polite relations with his "friend. " "I'm up for a part today, so I have to get this out of the way now."
"Cattle call?"
"Callback. Reading." She tried to project her certainty that she would get the part. "My agent said they were very enthusiastic when they called her to set up the time."
"Oh." He watched her.
She thought, Would you move your ass out of my way so I can see what I'm doing? She didn't say anything.
He looked at the clock behind her. "I'm running out of time."
"Don't let me keep you. I have to lift weights after this, and today is an upper body day—that takes longer."
He looked disappointed. Naturally. She smiled at him to lessen the sting, and he said, "Well, I guess I'll be going, then. You want to get together tonight?"
"Can't," she said. "I have a shoot for a local department store catalog tomorrow morning—early. If I don't get my sleep, my eyes will be puffy." He could say he was dating an actress. She didn't see any reason why he needed to say he was going steady with one.
"You doing okay for money?"
"No. I will be. If the movie comes through."
He smiled a little. "In the meantime, why don't you let me help you out?"
She smiled again. "When I make my million, I'll pay you back in style."
He turned to leave, and she called after him, "Turn on the radio for me, would you? Ninety-three point six. It helps to have something to listen to while I work out."
He nodded, turned on the radio, and left. When she got back to her apartment, she'd find a thousand dollars on the kitchen counter. Cash. No need to report it, no need to bank it—all she had to do was spend it. One of the nice little dividends to having a few movies in her past; now more than ever, men wanted to be with her, and they liked to give her gifts so she'd want to keep spending time with them.
She listened to another of her boyfriends doing his morning show. Dan wasn't one of the money boyfriends. He was one of the public appearance boyfriends. He was a celebrity in his own right, which gave him legitimacy, but he wasn't as well known as she was, so he didn't outshine her. He had a good body and a photogenic face, and he was the requisite two inches taller than her when she was wearing heels, so that they didn't look ridiculous in photographs. She couldn't afford to look ridiculous. The North Carolina celebrity scene didn't have the size or scope of that in New York or Hollywood. A few bad photos here could cost her work.
He was talking to a devil.
That was a first, even for him. The devil discussed what he hoped he would be doing in five years, Dan made an abrupt transition to quoting My Fair Lady, and all of a sudden he had her complete attention. She slowed the treadmill to a walk, manually overriding the variable-intensity program she'd chosen; she wanted to be able to hear what he was saying.
"Listen up, Raleigh. Puck's an unemployed devil—a social leech with no job and no place to live . . ." She continued her cool down walk while Dan presented his Great Devil Makeover idea to Raleigh's morning commuters. "Grab a phone and let me know what you think! Call me now!"
Her instincts told her this was an opportunity. It didn't seem like much on the surface, but everything about the Hellraised could command national, and sometimes even international, attention.
She suspected that Dan was about to find himself in the spotlight. She decided she'd like a large portion of that attention for herself. She resolved to call Dan and offer her support—maybe she could suggest herself in the role of acting coach. Or maybe she could just be there, getting her picture taken. NORTH CAROLINA ACTRESS REDEEMS HELLRAISED. She could see the headline. And the subhead, too. "Will Play Herself in Major Motion Picture."