In Luke's trailer, I changed back into my clothes, half wanting Luke to barge in at any minute. I even hesitated, taking extra time to put on my shoes and adjust my jeans. No luck.
I called an Uber and walked the nearly mile distance, past the city scape and suburban street corner that now annoyed me with their picture perfect facades, to the movie lot's gate. When I heard a car rev up behind me, I quickly turned hoping it was Luke's Ferarri. Instead, it was a mini-Cooper driven by a brunette 20-something.
I worried I crossed the line with Luke. But he pushed me too far. I could only take so much humiliation. I don't think he realized how much people's comments hurt me. There was no way I wanted to be part of a film project with a director who called me a whale. And I particularly didn
