I don’t need a second chance with him, or a life I thought I had.
While he was out forgetting me to become a movie star, I was building a career out of nothing. A career as a paparazzi, but a career. For a foster kid who bounced around every home in Los Angeles, that wasn’t easy.
This camera is all I have.
He’s nothing to me. Every time I take his picture and sell it, I remind myself that I did it all without him or his approval, his cinnamon smell or his clear green eyes. He lights up the screen like a celestial body, but he’s nothing but a paycheck to me.
He can throw my camera off a balcony, and nothing has to change. We can stay king and queen of the same city, and different worlds.
Except this is Hollywood, and here, anything can happen.
Born in New York City, she moved to
Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In
case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure
in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured
erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung
up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and
sin in the city of Los Angeles.
Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,”
“literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to
put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he
might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a
once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood.