Soon people were paying me at least $200 to read their charts. I started Exalted, where I paired viral images with captions like “When you’re a Cancer.” It was mindless and asinine, and people ate it up. My Instagram followers skyrocketed daily, and my inbox was suddenly full of requests for readings and magazine editors asking me to write astrology listicles. I posted my Venmo account on my Instagram page, and people would just give me money. For years, I almost felt rich. I could afford therapy and Juicy tracksuits in every color and groceries from Gelson’s and generous tips at the Mirror Box. It all felt too good to be true, and it turns out it was.

I’m back to dreading the first of the month, ready to give up. And I’ve completely let myself go since I stopped going to auditions. I don’t exercise. I eat processed foods. My skin has taken on a grayish tint. I can’t audition like this. Maybe for an indie horror movie, but those don’t pay anyway.

I think of Riverside, its ticky-tacky homes and charmless monochrome landscape, and feel ill.

I have to figure something out.

Beau seems rich. I just have to meet him. I’ll charm him with my husky eyes the way I’d charmed that casting scout on the playground when I was eleven. I’ll charm him. I know I can do it.

Beau Rubidoux will save me.

DAWN.

“Dumped again?” is the first thing my former manager says when I show up in his office at the Blind Pig.

Roberto is a jerk, but I’ve worked for him on and off since I was eighteen and he’s never once groped me. And he always lets me have my job back. He knows I’m a good waitress, which is like the most useless thing to be good at, but at least I have something.

Also, he’s right. I was dumped.

“Fuck you,” I say.

“What a way to speak to your boss.” He swivels his chair to face me.

“So, I have my job back?”

He nods and I feel relief. Then dread. I have to wait tables, but at least I can pay rent.

“This new girl just quit. Millennials are such babies.” He swivels back toward his computer, moves his mouse around, stares at the screen. “But she was hot and the customers loved her.” He says this to the screen.

Jealousy rattles inside me. Does Roberto think I’m hot? Does he tell people the customers love me? Because they do, minus a few bad eggs.

“Luckily you got me back,” I say with my trademark wink.

He looks up from the computer and nods weakly. My feelings are hurt, but I’m going to keep my cool. I have to keep my cool.

“I don’t want any trouble from you, Dawn, okay?”