The Maid
"Rabbit, I have a new gig for you."
I look up to see Bea Stuart, my manager and worst critic, grinning at me. I roll my eyes. I know what she means.
I fold the script in my hands and raise an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Anything new?"
Bea’s grin widens. "Same role."
I sigh. Now, I’m hopeless.
I glance at Bea, jealousy washing over me. Look at her. She’s gorgeous, tall and blonde with blue eyes. Not to mention talented, and on the verge of a breakthrough as a singer. Recording labels are already lining up for her. And here I am, 5'3" brown-eyed brunette stuck in the same rut. Though we’re best friends, I can’t help but feel envious about her career progress.
I look at the script again and sigh. "I’m a failure," I mutter to myself.
Bea pats my hair and sits beside me on the couch. "Rabbit, cheer up. You’re just starting in this industry. It hasn’t even been a year yet. Your time will come."
Of course, she'd say that. She’s my best friend, after all. I pout at her. "I’m jealous of you."
Bea chuckles and slaps my back, almost making me cough. "Shut up! Singing is my forte. You’re magnificent at acting!"
"Yeah, yeah. Maid roles."
Bea laughs loudly. I should feel insulted, but instead, I pout as I read my tiny dialogue again.
'Here’s your tea, master.' Then exit the scene.
I don’t know what’s wrong with my acting. Directors say I lack something but never tell me what. Maybe because I’m not as important as Meryl Streep for them to bother giving me feedbacks. Wait. Does Meryl Streep even needs a feedback?
Bea and I are college dropouts from the countryside, trying our luck in Hollywood. We needed money and took the chance to break into the entertainment industry. Bea started singing OSTs for dramas, while I’ve been typecast as a maid in commercials and TV shows ever since. Yeah, yeah, my life is full of luck and unicorns.
"I think you lack internalization, Rabbit," Bea says, eyeing me. "And your fashion sense sucks."
I look down at my sweatpants. How dare she? "Excuse me. We’re at home on a rainy day. You don’t expect me to wear Jeremy Scott and Versace at home, right?" Not like I own those brands. "And what do you mean by lacking internalization? I memorize my lines a hundred times!"
Bea covers her ears. "You’re so loud. I’m just pointing it out because no one else will. You’re still a nobody, you know." Ouch. That hurts.
I frown. "I hope my next stint gives me the 'internalization' you’re talking about."
Bea beams. "Oh, I know it will." She explains, "There’s a producer who needs a nanny for his nephew—"
"Hey, hey, hey, a REAL nanny?"
Bea nods. "And he wants—"
"NO WAY!"
Bea glares at me. "Will you let me finish?"
I shut my mouth.
"Teddy, the producer, asked if I knew someone for the job. I recommended you. You start on Monday."
My jaw drops. Bea didn’t even consult me beforehand!
Bea softens. "I know you need money for your family, Dara."
I bite my lip. She’s right. My mom runs a small vet clinic, my sister Joy is starting college prolly will drown in student debts someday, and my brother Leo is extremely asthmatic that his medications are so expensive. Our health insurance sucks.
"And it’s only for two weeks," Bea continues. "He’ll pay you three thousand bucks."
"What?" That...MUCH?
Bea nods. "Yup. When I heard it, I wanted to volunteer, but I thought of you. Teddy said you’re hired because I recommended you. What d'you think?"
"What do I think? Oh, bestie, thank you so much!" I jump and hug her tightly.
Bea chuckles. "I knew you’d accept." She smirks. "While there, you have to internalize your act of being a maid because your next job is still being a maid! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
I ignore Bea as I start counting on my fingers and my potential shopping spree. Daily needs. Tuition. Medicines. Jeremy Scott & Versace. All checks. Three thousand bucks is plenty! Yehey!
