Reality Check Read Online Free Page B

ever so I don’t do camera warm-ups, and reality TV doesn’t call for run-throughs—there are no lines to rehearse.” She paused, then turned to face Mr. Day and Charly, a look of worry on her face. “I have a two-o’clock yoga class, and it’s almost one thirty.” She glanced at Charly, who was turning over the slim box in her hands. “Are you a yogi, Charly?”
    Charly nodded, then shook her head. No, she wasn’t. In fact, nothing about yoga had ever excited her, and she couldn’t understand why people rushed to a place to stretch when they could stretch at home for free. It couldn’t be that hard, and if that’s what it took to better the show, if that’s what Annison did to stay in such great shape, she could learn. “Not yet, but I’ve always been interested. I heard it works wonders,” Charly lied, finally opening the box. Inside was a shock of red. Charly reached in and removed a long silk scarf. “This is beautiful. A summer scarf, like yours?”
    Annison gave a half nod. “Yes, to the scarf and yoga. Scarves and oversized sunglasses are for starlets, and yoga does a body good,” she said, looking over her own ballerina-type physique. She shrugged. “Well, you have the scarf now. Sunglasses are easy to get. Maybe one day I can invite you out to the yoga shala. We do yoga daily, but it’s kinda a private, sisters-only group. We’ll see. Gotta go,” she said, then turned and walked down the stairs and disappeared. Mr. Day scampered behind her.
    Charly stood in awe with her mouth hanging open and her heart palpitating. She was caught somewhere between excitement about getting to work with such a big star and almost being invited to work out with her. Charly’s eyes bulged. She looked at her watch and her heart danced. Mason would be arriving in New York shortly, and she had to be at the airport to meet him when his plane touched down. She’d promised him, and she didn’t go back on her word. She hoped he didn’t go back on his either. He’d promised to bring her some of her favorite chocolate-popcorn from a mom-and-pop joint in Chicago, and her mouth had been watering for it all morning. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go too!” she yelled toward Mr. Day’s back, and began taking off her robe.
    Ramone and the rest of the Gossip Trinity who were assigned to her beauty needs hustled back into the trailer. “Where are you going?” Ramone asked.
    â€œI gotta get to the airport. Fast. And I need to leave Marlow here.” She looked at him, then to the next person, then to the next. “Anyone have a car?”
    Ramone shook his head. “This is New York. No one has a car. We have trains and taxis and bikes and personal drivers, so why would we have cars? Cars, for the most part, are a waste of money and space in New York. Besides, have you seen how much parking is here?”
    â€œRamone, get off it. It’s time to trade in your diaper. That’s not true for everyone. Some of us do have cars, and they’re not always a waste of money. Not for me,” a very deep voice said from behind, making everyone turn around. The first thing Charly noticed was tattoos.
    The Gossip Trinity greeted him, apparently knowing who the guy was, and egged Charly on that it was cool to ride with him.
    Ramone sucked his teeth. “This is who I was talking about, Charly. He’s mean, but I guess he’s all right once you get to know him.” He turned his attention back to the guy. “And get off what? And trade in my what ? What did you say? You’re always a handful.”
    â€œGet off your pedestal, man—the one you’ve been on since whoever you dress sends their personal driver to pick you up,” the tattooed guy pointed out without a care. “And I’m referring to your diaper, Ramone. Trade it in, get you some big-boy boxers, and stop being such a