Copyright © 2008 Cindy Jacks
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
Her roommate, Emma, stood and watched Rowena inspect herself in the mirror and apply one more coat of lipstick.
“Gimme a once over?” Rowena asked.
Emma’s expression of mild annoyance didn’t match her tone. “Sure, sure.”
Rowena twirled in her red taffeta dress replete with crinolines. Em’s obvious jealousy painted her face. And why shouldn’t Emma be envious? Rowena felt like the It girl.
Blowing out a long catcall, Emma nodded in approval. “You look beautiful. A knockout.”
“Tonight’s the night, Em. I can feel it.”
“Well make sure you’re the only one who can feel it, Ro, you hear what I’m saying?”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. And it’s ‘Sabrina’ tonight,” Ro insisted, “Sabrina Sullivan.”
Rowena felt clever for aligning herself with the starlet of the day by using alliteration in her first and last name.
Emma’s gaze walked down ‘Sabrina’s’ ensemble, coming to rest upon a divine pair of stiletto heels in scarlet satin.
“Oh my.” Em pointed at the beautiful shoes. “Those must’ve cost you a pretty penny.”
“All in the name of fame and fortune.” Sabrina pursed her lips and held out her daintily clad foot for Emma to inspect further.
“Are those…?”
Sabrina nodded knowing her friend’s question. “They are. They’re Levines.”
“And where did an unemployed actress get the money to buy a pair of Levines?”
Sabrina shrugged with practiced nonchalance.
Emma shook her head. “Just be careful, young lady. Men don’t give presents like that without expecting something in return.”
“Oh, hush. Drake is just a generous guy.”
“Uh huh.”
“And tonight he’s introducing me to the same director that made Marilyn a star,” Sabrina said.
Em’s lack of snide response surprised Sabrina. How many times had the woman lectured her about the evils of the movie industry? Emma loved to call Drake a low-level has-been who preyed on naïve girls. But Sabrina wasn’t naïve. She knew exactly what Drake expected of her and she thought it a small price to pay for fame and fortune. What was the big deal? After all, Sabrina was no virgin.
Of course, Sabrina took Em’s admonitions as sour grapes. At thirty-five, her hopes of stardom were long past her. Sabrina would be damned if she’d end up like that. And she wouldn’t wind up as one of Emma’s cautionary tales either. Smart girls knew how to be discreet and not get into trouble. No way Sabrina was buying a bus ticket back to small town Iowa with a bun in the oven. Oh yes, Sabrina’s course was set. It wouldn’t be so bad. Drake was handsome enough, and he reeked of money, which always turned Sabrina on. And if the director wanted to play too, well, so be it. Nothing was going to stop her tonight.
“I’m leaving, Em,” Sabrina called from the foyer.
“Break a leg, shug.”