738 Days: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

explain, easier than pointing out the flaw in her logic and her false sense of security.
    Because what has not yet occurred to Mia—or most people, in fact—is that if that concept is true, the reverse must also be.
    In other words, just because yesterday went smoothly doesn’t mean today isn’t going to fly off the fucking rails when you least expect it.
    But nobody wants to hear that from the Miracle Girl.

 
    2
    Chase Henry
    Why do bad ideas always seem better the night before?
    Just one more—come on, man. I’m still good enough to drive.
    I know this great backroom poker game. Ten K minimum. We’ll kill it.
    She is giving you serious come-fuck-me eyes. You should totally get that.
    Race you to the next intersection. Pussy brakes first.
    I don’t know, but I’ve had enough “night befores” to realize this is a trend, not a one-off kind of a thing. And somehow, I’m still agreeing to crap. Maybe that’s the better thing to question.
    The thick manila folder Elise thrust at me when I climbed in the car is heavy in my hands, and looking at it only makes me feel more uneasy. The labels across the front and the tab section are in all caps, screaming at me: AMANDA GRACE.
    I shift uncomfortably in the seat, the leather upholstery creaking beneath me as I stretch my legs out, bracing myself as the driver takes another turn a little too fast. “You sure about this?” I ask Elise.
    Her forehead pinched in annoyance, she looks up from her phone, where she’s texting with one hand and holding on to the door’s armrest with the other. The car service she hired to drive us from our hotel in Wescott, where we’re filming, to nearby Springfield has taken her promise of a massive bonus for on-time arrival very seriously. Tires-screeching-around-corners seriously.
    “That’s so cute,” Elise says, her expression smoothing out with a smile. “Your Texas comes through when you’re anxious. I never noticed before.”
    I roll my eyes. “I’m not—”
    “We should capitalize on that the next time you have an on-camera. Our target market will eat that up. Cowboys and shit.” Before she’s even finished her sentence, her gaze is glued to her phone again. “Just make sure it doesn’t bleed through on set. Smitty is supposed to be from here. Wherever-the-fuck-this-is, Pennsylvania,” she says dismissively.
    Smitty is the reason we’re here. My first role in over two years. It’s a small part, the addict best friend of the lead, in a ridiculously small-budget independent film, Coal City Nights . Barely a week’s worth of work, and I’m damn lucky it’s mine. I only have it because Max Verlucci, the writer/director, was part of the writing staff on the first season of Starlight , and he wrote some awesome Brody-centric episodes that gave me a lot to work with . And it probably didn’t hurt that Max left the show before things really went to crap. Still, I had to swear to him that I’d take it seriously and I wouldn’t fuck around.
    When you’re on the verge of being homeless and another too-famous, too-soon statistic, it’s pretty easy to make that promise and mean it.
    Now that Coal City is getting industry buzz, thanks to the exploding popularity of the two leads, Jenna Davies and Adam DiLaurentis, I’m even luckier to still be cast. I’m not exactly Hollywood’s favorite son at the moment. Or anyone’s favorite son, to be honest. You can screw up, yeah, but you’ve got to have the fame and talent to back it up. I cashed in credit that I didn’t have yet, which only pissed people off. So now I’m trying to make a comeback. At twenty-four.
    Jesus. Why doesn’t anyone ever tell you that sometimes where you start is the best it’s ever going to be?
    But they don’t. And then you spend the rest of your life doing anything and everything you can to get back. Including some shit that maybe you shouldn’t.
    “Elise…” I begin.
    She lowers her phone with a sigh. “Chase,” she says, mimicking me