[Chapter 79: She]
Her birthday marked her 20th year, and after today, her teenage days were truly over. It happened to be a weekend, and as she strolled alone through the streets, she felt like a stray
cat.
She spent the morning wandering along Broadway, passing a small theater where she noticed a poster advertising an amateur production of La Traviata by students from a New York drama school. Intrigued, she decided to pop in and watch the performance. It turned out to be pretty good, and she even shed a few tears. By the ti she exited, it was already lunchti. She treated herself to a slice of chocolate cream cheesecake and sat on a bench in Central Park, taking small bites.
Since her successful weight loss, she had mostly stayed away from high-calorie foods. But it was her birthday, so she thought, why not indulge a little?
After carefully finishing her lunch, she tossed the empty box into the nearby trash can and checked her beloved trench coat to make sure no crumbs had landed on it. Satisfied, she wiped her hands with a tissue, grabbed her handbag, and continued her aimless wandering.
Passing through Hell's Kitchen and veering into the Garnt District, she caught a distant glimpse of the Empire State Building before turning back. Before she knew it, she found herself on Fifth Avenue. She looked up at so luxury boutiques, browsing and debating, but in the end, she didn't buy anything. Despite that, the staff was quite friendly and welcod her to co back. Not that she would, everything there was just so overpriced!
The Chanel trench coat she wore was a gift from him, a white one that had made for a stunning street-style photo. Later, she learned just how expensive it was -- worth as much as several paychecks combined. If she had known the price in advance, she never would have accepted it.
After a while, a charming salesgirl with a smooth tongue managed to persuade her, and she couldn't resist spending over two thousand dollars on a bottle of Dior perfu. It seed he liked that scent.
Sighing, she couldn't help but think of that... jerk.
It was her 20th birthday; her parents and a few close friends had called, sending her gifts through the mail. Matthew Perry even sent her an extravagant diamond bracelet and made it clear during their call that he had no ulterior motives, just wanted to wish her a happy birthday. He was simply returning a favor to her -- a lucky dog, indeed.
But him? He hadn't called her in four and a half days.
In past birthdays, even without her parents around, she would gather a few friends for a al, celebrating with a flurry of gifts. Unfortunately, this ti, she hadn't made any new friends on set. Tattingers was a cody drama series, and she was considered one of the main support characters.
So of the girls seed to think that their breakthrough would co through this highly touted NBC series. It was all about stealing scenes, backstabbing, bribing writers, and even sleeping with the producers. She had heard stories about so of the sordid happenings on
set.
Out of the group, she was the prettiest, even more so than the leading lady. So, it was no surprise she was often harassed. One of the episode directors even shalessly suggested that he could write her in more if she accompanied him to dinner one night. She flatly refused. Then one day, the new handso actor Brad Pitt got kicked off the show. In this industry, word spread like wildfire. After that, no one dared to bother her, not even the show's producer, who was quite courteous and even complinted her on having a good boyfriend. As a result, she beca more isolated on set. The other actresses privately called her a scher. She couldn't be bothered to defend herself against a bunch of jealous brats. Perhaps they just hadn't found the right audience, because the well-promoted series tanked in the ratings, averaging less than six million viewers per episode, set to be canceled after the first season. The attention she gained from the show didn't co close to what being that guy's girlfriend had given her.
Tabloids frequently featured bits about her, labeling her as "Eric Williams' current girlfriend","ex-girlfriend," and "rumored girlfriend," painting a narrative of her being dumped every few days. Eventually, she couldn't bear to read those papers anymore; they didn't even bother to call her "the supporting actresss of Tattingers." It was all just disheartening, and that jerk was to bla.
Before she knew it, night had fallen, and she still didn't want to go ho. She had grown accustod to making breakfast alone, watching TV solo, doing laundry by herself, aimlessly wandering, and going to bed all by her loneso...
On her 20th birthday, a special day, she suddenly realized that being alone didn't feel lonely, but missing soone did.
Across the street, a line ford outside a theater. Curious, she walked over and saw the poster for Pretty Woman hanging prominently, featuring the two leads smiling back-to-back. The tall actress looked stunningly sexy, and it irritated her. She thought to herself, "She only got that chance because she was in bed with that jerk. What's so impressive about that?"
Click--
Click--
The familiar sound of a cara shutter caught her attention, and she turned to see a paparazzo casually turning away. It was clear that her recent pouting expression aid at the poster had just been snapped. Should she leave right away?
What would the headline read: "Ex-girlfriend scoffs at Eric Williams' new project"?
Frustrated, she unexpectedly found herself standing in line to buy a ticket. "Just doing this to support you, jerk. See how much I'm thinking of you?"
Minutes later, clutching her movie ticket, she walked into the theater.
For a solid two hours, she lost herself in the leading lady's role, imagining how it would feel if she were the one performing.
The story continued, and she was surprised to find a risque scene. In the flickering darkness, she instinctively covered her ample chest.
If it were her playing that part, knowing how that jerk operated, he would definitely have cut that scene. Exactly. It seed he wasn't too concerned about Julia Roberts after all.
As these thoughts crossed her mind, she felt like she had just snagged a scene or won a ga of chess, reminiscing about those childhood wings during a chicken wing eating contest. It was that kind of feeling.
But then she watched the leading lady get her fairytale ending, and she pondered, where was
hers?
Feeling empty inside, she walked out of the theater with a sense of loss.
It was after nine now, and she reminded herself that she shouldn't wander about at night alone. She had always been obedient about that.
After a day of walking, she hadn't felt much, but after two hours in the theater, her calves began to ache. She didn't want to move another step, so she flagged down a taxi.
She trudged up the stairs and finally reached her apartnt door.
There was a light shining through the peephole, and inexplicably, anticipation washed over
her.
Shakily, she took out her key and unlocked the door, finally spotting the familiar busy figure in her living room.
In an instant, all her energy drained away. Who said won could shop endlessly? That was pure nonsense; she was exhausted.
She leaned against the wall of the hallway and stared dreamily at his silhouette.
Busy with prepared decorations, the man looked up, spotted her, and broke into a smile. "I'm really sorry, Jenny. I just arrived in the afternoon. I stayed up late last night waiting on box office numbers, up 'til past two. I couldn't get a flight, so I borrowed Mr. Diller's private jet. By the ti I got here, it was already around three, and you weren't ho, so I had to set everything up myself. I'm not familiar with New York, and I almost got lost while shopping. I might not have prepared as well as I hoped."
As he rambled on, warmth filled her heart.
He continued talking, striking a match and lighting the candles on the cake, before finally saying, "Happy birthday!"
She tossed her handbag aside and leaned up against the wall, lifting her arms to him in an awkward gesture for a hug, her voice tinged with a hint of complaint, "Eric, my legs hurt..."
*****
spatreon/Sayonara816.
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