Harrison, a chubby brunette with very few men vying for her attention, and nothing much going on in life apart from work. When I moved to the States I decided it would be the perfect time to reinvent myself (what better place to fake it than LA?), so I slimmed down to a US size six (which is absolutely no fun to maintain), dyed my dull brown locks a sexy honey blonde colour, and every morning I meticulously curl my long hair with tongs, squash myself into something sexy and step into a high pair of heels.
Now my name is Mia Valentina. I’m twenty-nine years old. I believe in taking care of myself, believe in a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. OK, so I’m not really a female Patrick Bateman, but before I get dressed each day I do have a particular routine to make sure I can keep up my new look and maintain my new body.
I’m not sure if adopting a fancy sounding pen name and looking the part is helping my career at all, but let’s just say I’m not short of men vying for my attention any more. Men didn’t look twice at Mia Harrison, but Mia Valentina... she’s a hit. I don’t know why I’m referring to myself in the third person because that’s me now. Mia Harrison is nothing but a distant memory. Even when I go home to visit (which, I have to admit, is not very often) no one from my past recognises me and my family all tell me how much I’ve changed – although not necessarily for the better. In fact, the new me isn’t a hit with my family at all. I’m not talking about the way I look, more the way I am. I’m a different girl on the inside too. The old me had panic attacks. I was pushed around at work, messed around by men and ever since the birth of my younger sister even my family have made me feel like the second favourite child – please keep in mind that there are only two of us. Life before my sister Annabelle was born feels like a weird dream that didn’t really happen, because ever since beautiful baby Belle bounced onto the scene the attention has been fully on her. Sure, I achieved everything first, but Belle did it all better. It’s a horrible thing to say, but I almost feel like I was the starter child, the practice run before Belle came along. I was five years old when Belle was born, so I’ve been’ second best for the majority of my life. That’s why I love living out here, alone. No one knows the old me, I can totally be myself without worrying about the consequences – and believe me there are consequences, because these days my true self can be a bit of a bitch.
‘Good morning, Mia,’ my assistant Dalia chimes brightly, despite it being past noon. That’s the great thing about having an assistant, they go out of their way to assist you, even by making you feel like you’re not incredibly late for work when you really are.
‘Hey Dalia, what’s happening?’
‘Well, the meeting started ten minutes ago, I tried to reach you on your cell.’
Oh, shit. I wish I could say that this was a one-off, but with great success comes a great ego. Even though I know that if I just got up a little earlier on a morning I could be on time for work, I still roll out of my bed when I feel like it and spend ages doing my hair when really I should be rushing to the office to make my meetings on time.
‘Good morning,’ I say cheerily as I burst my way through the doors to the meeting, grabbing an apple from the buffet table before taking a seat with the rest of the Pink Inc. team.
‘It’s not morning,’ Molly informs me.
‘OK,’ I say, twirling my chair from side to side as I munch my apple.
‘We were just talking about the script changes,’ Savannah says, kindly bringing me up to date.
Between the three of us, we have the formula for making movies down to a fine art – although unlike me, Molly and Savannah are way into all the romantic junk that I have no time for in real life.
‘Here,’ Molly says, tapping the page of the open script on the table in front of me. ‘We need to make some changes to this line.’
At the moment we’re working on a movie called Three’s A Crowd, which tells the tale of two twenty-something best friends. Both party girls, their friendship comes under strain when one of them goes off on holiday and returns engaged.
‘I wrote that line,’ I say, almost offended. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘I’m just struggling to believe that when Katie’s best friend tells her she is engaged, she asks her if it’s because she is pregnant. No one would do that.’
I have a little chuckle with myself because that’s exactly what I said to my sister when she told me she was engaged.
‘OK, so what were you thinking instead?’ I ask.
‘Perhaps it should be a sweet and sincere moment,’ Savannah suggests.
We could try that. After all, we write romantic comedies, it needs as much romance as it does jokes.
‘Sure, but what?’ Molly asks.
We all sit in silence for a moment – well, almost silence. The unattractive sound of me crunching my apple can be heard all around the room.
‘OK, let’s try this,’ I start with my mouth full. ‘So, Emma tells Katie that she is engaged and Katie is shocked – she drops her cosmopolitan and spills it all over Emma’s dress, just like we wrote originally. This time, instead of asking her if she’s pregnant, the pair rush off to the toilets together to try and get the stain out of Emma’s dress. For a moment no one says anything, they just both work together in silence, Emma holding the bottom of her dress taut as Katie carefully dabs at the stain with a wet paper towel. Now, the stain isn’t as bad as it looks, and together they get it out. Then Emma leans on Katie while she dries it under the hand dryer.’
‘I don’t think any girl watching the movie is going to care so much about fashion that she’ll want to watch them just removing a stain in silence,’ Molly interrupts me.
‘Let me finish then,’ I say sharply. Another thing that changed when I became the new Mia was my tolerance for girls and their bitchiness. I don’t really have any female friends here in the States, unless you count Dalia, but she’s paid to be friendly to me and she doesn’t try that hard. I have a sneaking suspicion she secretly hates me. Yesterday when I sent her out for condoms she looked at me like she wished I was dead. After an anti-climatic night with Zack (who I’m going to have to try hard to avoid today) I’m starting to wish she hadn’t bothered. Well, that I hadn’t bothered with Zack, not that we hadn’t bothered with protection.
Other than Dalia, the only other girls I have to deal with for lengthy amounts of time on a daily basis are Molly and Savannah. Savannah is a lovely, bubbly girl. We don’t have much in common but we get along OK. When all else fails we can always have a girly chat together, about things like hair and shoes, because Savannah is a girly girl too. She has long, naturally curly brown hair and bright green eyes like me, which we bonded over the day we met because supposedly green eyes are quite rare. Whether it’s true or not, it gave us something to talk about and thanks to that we’ve always got on well since.
Sadly, I never hit it off with Molly. We just don’t seem to have anything in common apart from our girl parts. Molly is very tall and very thin. She’s quite gothic looking, with her sharp black inverted bob and her heavy black makeup, but while she isn’t particularly girly, she is still a romantic just like Savannah – and that is the one thing I don’t have in common with either of them. The thing is, being a romcom writer, there’s no way I can openly admit to my aversion to love. If people knew that I thought the stuff I wrote was slushy propaganda, cleverly designed to trick women into thinking they need a husband and a happy ever after – I’d be finished. The film industry may not benefit from you having a happy love life directly, but
