Dog Bites Agent — A Hollywood Scene
“I need work, Jake. I can’t just lie in the sun all day.”
“If there was work for you, I’d get you a screen test, you know that, Sasha.”
She could smell his lies right through his Gucci for Men cologne. “That’s what you’ve been saying for the last two years.”
“Get real, baby. You’re what now — seven?” He shrugged and gave that wide, tight-lipped, what-do-you-expect smile.
“The prime of life!” she shot back, baring her fangs.
“In Hollywood, you’re past your prime, overripe.” Then, more kindly, “They’re just not writing parts for middle-aged … well, you know.”
“I can play any part they offer: eager pup” — she panted — “best friend” — she grinned and cocked her head to one side — “protector of small children” — she stiffened alertly.
“Mm-hm.”
“I found a personal trainer. We go for daily walks.”
“Sasha, Sasha, I love you, you know that, but look in the mirror. You’ve got goop in your eyes, hair on your chin, and that body … .”
She burned in anger and humiliation. Yes, she had dropped another litter last year, her third in four years, and what of it? She wanted to lunge at him and bite his nose, but she thought better of it.
