I booked my last real acting job in 1994. Three lines on a cop show that got cut in editing. Since then it’s been background work, voiceovers for industrial videos, and the occasional commercial for a local furniture chain.
The escorting started six months ago. A friend from the old days introduced me to a woman who runs a discreet service for women visiting the city. The money is better than any day rate I’ve seen in years. No one knows. Not my agent, not my friends, and certainly not my girlfriend of eleven months.
She thinks I’m still hustling auditions and taking the occasional catering gig. She’s kind. She deserves the truth. But I’m terrified of what happens when I say it out loud.