Page 49 of Offensive Plays

"Veronica, please get Red the four-inch Manolos. She's so much shorter than the other girls. She's throwing off the look," the man says behind his camera.

"JS, do you think Red is tall enough for this look?"

The man called JS just looks at me tilting his head every which way, "Hmm, maybe with the taller heels."

"Maybe with a taller girl," the photographer says not so under his breath. "Red, come here, please."

I wish he’d stop fucking calling me that. But I can’t say anything. Right now I’m at his mercy. And I hate this feeling.

He waves me over and I catch a glance at the other girls looking me up and down like I'm ruining their entire week.

"We're going to try you with the taller heel, but if it doesn't work. I'm afraid you're just not cut out for this style."

Veronica, the wardrobe assistant comes with the new pair of heels.

"Chop, chop," the photographer claps. "We don't have all day."

"He can't just cut you from a shoot," Kesley sneers.

"It's fine. I didn't fit the "look"," I say with air quotes.

Sherrie, my bestie's mama, scoffs from her seat in the clinic. Either Kesley, me or one of her sister's has been by Sherrie's side over the last few weeks as she's received her chemo treatment.

Today, Sherrie is feeling especially spicy.

"How dare he? What's his name? I'm going to talk to his boss."

I laugh, "That's not really how it works, Sherrie. Though I appreciate it.”

Growing up, I didn't have a mother. My own left me and my brother in the care of an uncle when I was just a baby. So when I met Kesley, her parents became like parents to me. They love me like a daughter.

"I'll show him how it works," Sherrie says like a threat.

Kesley looks at me, her shoulders shaking as she laughs to herself, shaking her head.

And ever since getting her diagnosis, Sherrie has taken on an entirely new persona.

She's not the same super mom of the year with delicious shepherd's pie recipes and sweet-looking aprons. No, this woman sitting in front of us is a badass with a mohawk. Yes, an actual mohawk.

"Have I told you how much I love you, Sherrie."

"Only every day," she admits with a wink. "But I can assure you I love you more."

Okay, I'm officially gutted.

An unexpected tear springs forward just as Sherrie's oncologist knocks on the door. I quickly wipe it away.

"Well, if it isn’t' my toughest patient," Dr. Steele says. She flips through Sherrie's chart. "Looks like the treatment has been doing it's job, Sherrie. We're going to run a few tests today and just continue to track your progress. But things are looking up."

"That's great news," Kesley says, reaching for her mom's hand.

Sherrie holds it tightly, then reaches over to me and takes mine in her other hand.

Oh, god. I can't contain my emotions.

"Really great news," Sherrie says.

Back at the house, alone in my room. I get a call from my agent.