Did you get that job at AMC, or what?
I sold my soul to Satan for a dollar. I got it in the mail.
Oh, you’re sweet to ask what the dilly with me is—but it’ll be WEEKS till I hear from them. I’m going to give them a call when it’s two weeks since the audition, and I’m sure they’ll say, “Oh, we’re still seeing people, we haven’t made up our minds yet . . .”
Believe me, if I hear either way, I’ll let y’all know!
No, Eve, don’t call them. We don’t want to appear anxious.
Maintain a haughty demeanor. Remember, we’re doing them a favour.
And of course, we will laugh openly at their first, second and third offer.
We don’t work after five, weekends are free, and we will require a trailer and a dresser. And I don’t mean the furniture kind of dresser.
Say, do you need an agent?
“Miss Golden’s wardrobe by Jean Louis . . .”