Chapter One
This part of the story happens during Season 2 before Ari is fired
"Hey, wake up."
"Get fucked," I groaned and rolled over.
"Maybe later, but you have to get up and go with Fern to make us money."
"You mooches are going to be the death of me."
"Maybe if you spent less time partying and more time making money, it'd be different."
"Peter, leave her alone," Fern ordered.
Peter laughed, slapped my ass and left. I groaned some more, pulling the blankets over my head. Josh sighed loudly and knocked on my door frame.
"Go away!" I snapped.
"Get up, Mia, we've gotta go see Ari,"Fern said.
"Fuck Ari." Who the piss is Ari? I thought.
"You need an agent, I can't do everything. And besides, he's good. Hell, Ari's better than good, he's fucking great. So get up and let's go," Fern commanded.
I threw my alarm clock at him, but he had closed the door. It smashed, which meant I'd have to buy a new one. Or I'd make Fern buy one for me, whatever worked. I crawled out of bed and got dressed. I opened my door slowly and poked my head out. I peered down the right and left. Seeing nothing, I ventured out. Peter thundered down the hall and tackled me.
"MORNING!!" He screamed.
"For fuck's sake Peter, get off!" I ordered.
"Why so grumpy? How's the hangover? Need coffee? We made a fresh pot," Peter smiled.
He jumped up and gave me a piggy back ride downstairs. He set me down on the island (a/n those counter things in the middle of a kitchen or dinning room). I grabbed the bacon plate while Peter got my coffee.
"Finally you're awake," Izaak remarked.
"I've slept... Three hours. Do not make me kill you," I said coldly.
"Leave her alone, Izaak," Peter shrugged, handing me a full mug.
"Danke," I smiled (a/n German for "thank you").
"Um... Du bist... Willkom... Willkommen?" Peter replied, giving Izaak a questioning look (a/n German for "you're welcome").
"Yeah, that's right. So what's for breakfast?" Izaak nodded.
"Apparently, I have to go somewhere," I shrugged.
"Poor Mia," Peter patted my back.
"Damn right poor me. I make the money for you guys."
"Stop bitching and let's go," Fern said impatiently.
"Hey, bitch, don't make me fire you," I warned.
"So then you'll be looking for a manager and an agent. Think you can handle that? I don't."
"Don't get so pissy. Lemme get some shoes on," I rolled my eyes.
Fern and I left, we took the Gallardo Spyder and drove somewhere in LA. I picked at my nails and fiddled with the radio.
"Look, I know you're not excited about working with anyone new, but you can't expect that stupid little horror movie you made in college to keep funding everything," Josh lectured.
"I wasn't gonna... I mean, yeah, I know it won't," I shrugged.
"Movie deals aren't gonna fall from the sky."
"So get the word out about me, Peter and Izaak can help, all calls can be directed to you," I tried.
"Not gonna cut it, Kiddo."
Fern was right, that money wasn't going to last long. Danielle and I had made a horror movie during summer breaks while we were in college. She went to film school in New York, and I was working on a degree in computer science at CMU. We both had camcorders, and her parents owned a mac. So we gathered some old friends from high school and did a shitty horror movie. It was about a haunted house that killed people. Her cousin, Josh, and his friend, Max, helped us film it. It was in the local film festival and some hot shot from Hollywood helped us make it an "independent film". I had a bit role, but I was the co-writer, producer and co-director. I squandered about a fifth of the money from that in Vegas. In a drunken haze, I also got married to an ex-boyfriend. He was a pretty famous indie/hipster musician at the time. We were divorced as fast as legally possible. He had to pay me $2000 a month for 2 years, or until I got a job. Three years later, I had a flat in southern LA, almost Anaheim, and my money was running out.
Fern was right, I did need an agent and fast. Sooner or later I was gonna end up on the streets, but I'd have Peter, Izaak and Fern with me.
"You're right, and don't call me that," I sighed.
"Of course I'm right. I'm always right. Ok, we're here," Fern parked the Lambo and led me into the building.
"How may I help you?" The receptionist greeted us with a huge smile.
"Hi, yeah... We're looking for Ari Gold's office. Could you tell me what floor he's on?" Fern asked.
Her face fell, "yeah... I'll walk you there. Elevator's this way." She led us to Ari's office. "There it is. Just go on ahead."
"Thanks," Fern said.
"Good luck," she called behind her shoulder.
"What's that mean?" I asked him.
"Just be cool. Don't worry," Fern patted my shoulder.
"I'm the essence of cool, Babe," I assured him.
"Hi. I'm Fernando Harris and this is Marietta Rossi. We've got an 11 o'clock meeting with Mr. Gold," Fern said to the little Asian man.
"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Lloyd, Ari's assistant," Lloyd rose and shook our hands. "Ari's... On the phone right now, I'll call him... Ari?"
"What Lloyd?! Can't you see I'm on the fucking phone?!" Ari demanded.
"Miss Rossi and Mr. Harris are here," Lloyd said.
"Um... If this is a bad time we can reschedule," Fern muttered.
"Who?" Ari asked.
"That little Italian girl that was in the independent horror film," Lloyd covered the speaker with his hand. "That was wonderful by the way."
"Um... Thanks," I said.
"Italian?... Fucking degos. Alright, send them in," Ari decided.
"What's a dego?" Fern asked.
"Racist slur for an Italian. I'm so sorry about that," Lloyd shook his head.
"If you didn't need an agent so bad, I'd kick his ass," Fern sighed.
"Just go right on in."
As we approached the door, it swung open. Ari Gold had a huge smile on his face as he ushered us in. "Don't let anyone interrupt this meeting Lloyd, or I'll send your Korean ass back to fucking oriental antique store it came from in Little China," he warned.
"I'm not Korean, Ari!" Lloyd argued.