Read Give Me Grace for Free Online

the local coffee shop took in my gangly, awkward frame and told me I could be earning big dollars on international catwalks and “hey, here’s my card, call me,” I didn’t laugh in his face. I clutched that card like I was adrift in The Perfect Storm and it was my goddamn life raft.
    I’d been working nonstop ever since, most of the time away from home with a tutor to help me finish high school. And while the money I made had paid the bills a thousand times over, the price I paid was horrendous. I didn’t know my family anymore. We weren’t close. I’d lost them at the same time I’d lost my mum. Henry, Emma, and Ava were out there living their dreams while I was stuck in a life I’d never wanted.
    Now I was just the sister who was never there.
    “Early lunch break!” John shouted, snapping me out of the past and making my stomach rumble painfully.
    He murmured something to his assistant , who then disappeared from my field of vision. I hoped he wasn’t getting fast food. If I had to stand there for another hour while breathing in the smell of fried fish and hot chips, I was going to smash John’s camera against the wall.
    “Hold that glare,” he ordered swiftly.
    I froze.
    “Yap! Yap!”
    A white streak of fluff blurred across the floor behind John. The rapid dash ripped a cord from the wall and all eyes went wide with horror as one of the lighting stands began to topple in slow motion.
    “Mitsy! Godammit, Grace!” Jemima yelled and I winced. Her bright purple hair fell in her eyes as she made a grab for it, catching the expensive equipment before it smashed to the floor. John’s second assistant rushed over to help and together they both righted the stand while Mitsy made his great escape.
    Click. Click. Click.
    John continued working, ignoring the chaos around him while I stood there praying for a swift end to a lousy day.
    “Oh gross.”
    My eyes flicked left at the comment. Mitsy was now humping the shagpile cushion on John’s studio couch. His doggy hips pumped like an aerobics instructor on crack. I cringed, seeing his little unneutered balls slapping madly as he made the cushion his bitch.
    John paused, before muttering, “Oh for fuck’s sake.” He made a sound of disgust, calling to one of his team to burn the molested cushion. It was dragged from underneath Mitsy with a thumb and forefinger and taken away. Jemima rushed forward and clicked a leash on Mitsy’s collar. He resisted, snapping and snarling as my beleaguered assistant dragged him away.
    John sighed heavily and refocused his camera. “Why are you looking after the douchebag’s dog, Grace?”
    “You’re too old to use the word douchebag anymore, John. It reflects poorly on your growth as a decent human being,” I replied.
    “ My growth? Your birthday dinner last month. You paid for his food and drinks, and by drinks, I mean he cleaned out the bar,” he reminded me in the stern, patient tone my father used to use.
    I hated that tone. It reminded me of when I used to be a pain in the ass as a child. It made me wish I’d made my mother’s life easier. I’d done my best to lose the attitude before she died, but it was a case of too little, too late. Now the thought of letting down someone I loved made me want to puke.
    “He forgot his wallet.”
    “That’s because he’s a penniless douchebag,” John retorted. “If he wasn’t such a dick on set, people would hire him.”
    My eyes narrowed sharply. “Who told you that?”
    John gave me his back, putting down one camera and picking up another that to me, looked exactly the same. If I hadn’t been watching him carefully, I would’ve missed the casual shrug. “You hear things in this industry. You know that.”
    Why did it feel like I was missing something?
    I opened my mouth, but the cockney twang of Lily Allen singing Fuck You interrupted me.
    John put his camera down and turned around. “Answer your phone, Grace. It’s a wrap here anyway.”
    With a shrug, I strode