“Jonesie,” I told my reflection, “you’re one hot babe.”

I think I must have been in a coma for a bit, I don’t remember putting the stuff we’d bought at Target away but I came back to myself sitting on my bed and staring at my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. I put both hands up to my generous chest ornaments and hefted the weight of them. “Hallelujah is right,” I muttered.

I put my hands down and stood, taking a step to the 3/4 length mirror on the back of my door. “Jonesie,” I told my reflection, “you’re one hot babe.” I blew out a sigh to get my hair out of my eyes. I did a little shoulder shake and hissed when I saw how my “talent” bounced.

Jack was right. Professionally there wasn’t anything better that could have happened to me than being turned into the bombshell I saw in the mirror.

Hallelujah Jones. I’d register the name with SAG on Monday, along with my choice of alternate, Hallie Jones. And maybe Halle Jones as a third choice.

But could I be Hallelujah Jones? I had the physical package, like the world’s best makeup and appliances. Damnit, I’m an actor, I told myself. Robin Williams and Dustin Hoffman didn’t have the advantage I was starting with. Yeah, sure, women in Hollywood made about forty-five cents on the dollar for what men made at the upper levels. But…

But Hallie Jones was more likely to be able to reach those upper levels than Billy was. Forty-five percent of a million a year was more than the sixty to eighty thousand a journeyman character actor could bring down. Hallie had star quality, Billy did not.

I sighed. Hallelujah Jones would be the role of a lifetime, literally.

Someone knocked on the door. I shrugged, it had to be Jack.

“You in there, babe?” Jack called through the door.

“Where else would I be?”

“I—uh…”

I frowned, Jack never stammered.

“You hungry?” he asked abruptly.

“We’ve got leftover Chinese,” I pointed out. “Or I do.”

Jack opened the door and looked at me. I struck a pose and he grinned.

“Lemme take you out to dinner,” he said. “No one who looks like you should be eating leftovers.”

“I—what?” My turn to stammer. “Jack—I….” I stopped and just stared at him.

“Weird situation, huh?”

“Got that right,” I admitted.

He grinned again. He had a smile like that actor that played Cyclops, James Marsden, and his grin made you want to smile back at him. I realized I was. I remembered the pout I had tried in the mirror and used it on him. He laughed, seeming delighted.

I had to spoil the pout to giggle.

He shook his head. “You’re killer, Billie,” he said. “Look, I know a steakhouse in Santa Monica that’ll still be open. We’ve got time to get there and maybe a drive along the ocean? It’s Santa Monica, the beach is across the street so we don’t have to worry about dressing up, cause you don’t have the wardrobe for it.” He paused. “Yet.”

“Jack—I….” Again I didn’t know what to say.

“You already said that,” he pointed out. “Grab your purse and let’s go.”

I glanced around. “My…purse….”

He handed it to me. “C’mon, babe, you’re dressed and you don’t need makeup.” He led me out of the room and I let him.

* * *

Back in the Mustang we headed down Wilshire. “What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” he asked.

I flinched, I’d honestly forgotten I had work tomorrow. I would be missing another class at UCLA…but could I even go to class looking like I looked now? “Uh—six thirty, no, seven.”

He shook his head. “Can’t stay out too late then. Actors and their early calls.”

Absurdly, that pleased me. I’m an actor, I thought. I’ve got an early call in the morning. Makeup, costume. I felt professional. Weirdly professional.

May in Southern California is cool and I was glad the top was up on the Mustang. The sun had set, it was dark now and the wind off the ocean could get chilly. For all the clothing Jack had bought me at Target, neither of us had thought of a jacket or sweater.

Jack kept looking sideways at me. I pulled hair out of my face for like the ninetieth time and peered back at him. “What?” I asked.

“Profile,” he said mysteriously. “Hey, have you got an agent?” He turned his gaze back onto the street.

I rolled my eyes. “You have to have an agent to get work, so yeah.”

“They any good?” he asked.

“Uh—no,” I said. I was listed with an agency, but they hadn’t really done much for me except act as a switchboard and mail drop. And take their ten percent.

“I’ll ask around,” he said. “We’ll get you with a good agent, cause your career is gonna take off.”

“Yeah?” I said. “Nice to think that.” I pushed hair our of my face—again!

Jack nodded. “Believe me, you’re going places. You don’t have a manager, either, do you?”

“Uh—no.” A manager would take fifteen percent, but that much out of what I’d been making as an extra wouldn’t amount to anything.

“You’ll need one when you start getting parts and making money,” he said. “Agents usually work with managers.” The cost of being an actor, 25% right off the top before taxes and union dues, even!

Traffic on Wilshire was thicker than you would think at nearly eleven on a week night. We were poking along almost bumper to bumper. “Are you sure this place will be open by the time we get there?” I asked. “I’m—I’m really not that hungry….”

He glanced at me. “It’s part of a hotel, they keep the kitchen open till midnight.”

“Ah,” I said. “But we….” We probably wouldn’t have time for a drive by the ocean. “Just….”

“Billie,” he said seriously. “It’s me, Jack. You’re acting all nervous.”

“I am nervous,” I admitted. “You’re treating me too good. Like I’m your g-girlfriend or something.” My hair was back in my face and I puffed air to blow it out of the way.

Jack grinned. “We’ll have to work on that,” he said. “Right now, I’m trying to treat you like a friend, Billie. A good friend. A good friend with an outrageously nice body and a beautiful face.” He looked sideways at me. “I mean, you’re the one with the body and face.” He grinned again.

“Okay,” I said. Jack’s charm was irresistible even when you knew it was all malarkey. I smiled, looking away from him so he wouldn’t see, but then I turned back. “Oh,” I said, “I’ve decided to use my middle name professionally, at least until I can figure out how to change back.”

He shook his head. “It would be a crime against humanity to change you back.” He stopped at the light on Ocean before turning left when he got the green. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Your middle name is something unusual, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Hallelujah. So I’m Hallelujah Jones, now. Call me Hallie, I guess.”

He turned into a driveway for the Hotel Breakers-on-Ocean. “Hallelujah Jones. That’ll work.” A guy in the valet parking kiosk signaled him, so he pulled forward. He took the car out of gear then turned to me and gave me that killer grin again. “Hallelujah and a-men,” he said.