#patrick1

Celeste: Hi, Patrick.

Patrick: Where the fuck have you been? This is the fourth week you've called out, you haven't so much as shed a bra in a fucking month. No excuses anymore, girl, you need to be here tomorrow.

Celeste: I told you I'm dealing with an emergency right now. I can't leave.

Patrick: You don't seem to understand the concept of a contract anymore. We've been more than lenient with your schedule. You need to hold up your end of the deal. We're starting to get emails.

Celeste: Doesn't all that shit go through PR? Just pass it on. It's just a bunch of sexually frustrated teenagers whining about how their fake girlfriend hasn't been on their computer screens.

Patrick: This isn't a fucking joke, Gallagher. You are under contract. No more excuses, no more sick days. You need to be here tomorrow, dressed and in costume at 4pm for hair and makeup.

Celeste: Pat, it's not that easy.

Patrick: What the fuck happened to you? You used to love getting in front of a camera. Now you're avoiding it like the plague. You're robbing Tyler of a fair paycheck. And me, too. And yourself.

Celeste: Well I'm fucked up, what can I tell you.

Patrick: Not good enough, Gallagher, not fucking good enough. You're the best out there and we can't afford any questions. People will start to get testy. You're going to be here tomorrow and you're going to put on the show of your fucking life. You understand me?

Celeste: Yes.

Patrick: Because no one likes when a filthy slut stops being a filthy slut. It hurts your wallet and mine. So you're going to blow them away. Have I made myself clear?

Celeste: Crystal.

Patrick: Good. Don't eat too much salt tonight, I can't have you retaining water for the spandex leotard.

Celeste: Okay.

Patrick: You'll be fine, kid. You're a natural, remember?

Celeste: Mhm.

Patrick: All right. I'll let you go. But if you're so much as a minute late--

Celeste: Don't worry about me. I'll be there.