—John Donne Cue the Roy Orbison music! Just kidding. No Pretty Woman primp montage for me—yet. I had to see how my meetings went. But I was a working girl—not in the Hollywood Boulevard kind of way (I’d probably score all of twenty-five bucks, if that), and I had shit to do. First was the security firm. Four huge black guys explained how they would work the valet and press areas plus red carpet and “step and repeat”—the annoying but necessary billboard with our logo behind the velvet ropes where the celebs would “step”—pose, often hand on hip—then repeat, for the paparazzi. As Clarissa explained how her girls would deal with clipboard lists along with security, my phone buzzed with a text. Finn. “You like Indian?” he’d written. “I could eat human flesh if it had tikka masala sauce on it,” I zapped back. Moments later: “LOL.” Victory!
