Never Too Real by Carmen Rita Page A

You okay?”
    There was no getting away from talking about her show cancellation yet. Each of Cat’s friends had to check in and make sure their girl was going to be all right.
    “Ya know, life goes on,” Cat said, rather unconvincingly. “I’ll figure it out.”
    “You’ll do more than that. You’re a brown girl, for Pete’s sake! We’re in demand, chica. ” Magda’s drink arrived quickly and she promptly sucked down half of it in one swig, ice clinking.
    Cat had filled in the gang via group text on the night of her last show. Her substitute set of sisters had pinged her back all night, back and forth, until they were assured Cat had exhausted any rage or despair that could move her to do anything that would bite her in the ass later.
    “Sorry, gals, I’m here!” Gabi shuffled in, loaded with bags, Cat noted. Including a handbag big enough for Mary Poppins—though stylish as all heck—plus what Gabi called her subway bag, a tote with extra shoes, books, magazines, water bottle, snacks, and whatever else she needed to get through the day. Cat felt exhausted just looking at it all. She loved Gabi, but anytime she felt torn and depressed about her lack of a husband and children, Gabi would bluster in loaded down, scrambling with her bags. It was a reality check.
    “Okay, where are we?” Gabi embraced her friends as they made room for her at the bar. “Oh, and wine list please!” She waved to the bartender eagerly.
    “ Ay, Catalina-mía, how are you feeling?” Gabi patted Cat’s well-coiffed hand and bored in with her eyes of truth. Gabi could see through souls. She wouldn’t tell you that she could, or what she saw, but she always knew what was really going on behind your words. There was no sense in hiding anything. Though sometimes, she would reject or ignore what she saw. She knew she did that many times in her marriage.
    “I’m . . . I’m okay.” Cat’s eyes welled up as she reached for her near-empty glass. The bartender brought her another, plus a water, as he took Gabi’s drink order. He must recognize me, too, Cat thought. That’s the only time I get special service .
    “So, where’s your mind at? What’s your agent got cookin’?” Gabi the Fixer.
    “A few things, some pilots. But I can’t work for another six months—contract ban.” Cat paused. She’d never stopped working since she was at least twelve years old. This was a new way of living, life in a foreign land.
    “But you’re getting paid, right?” Money-balls Magda. “’Til your deal ends?”
    “Oh, sure. Gracias a Dios. And I have a couple of speeches coming up, so . . . that’s something.”
    “You have got to know that this is really the beginning of new things, new opportunity, right?” Gabi nudged.
    “Gabs, I know that, but right now it just sucks.”
    “Of course it sucks . . .” Magda chimed in. Sunniness not her strong point.
    The women were quiet for a moment. Gabi’s tendency to move quickly and forge ahead was inspirational but at times it came off as too instructional, so she stepped back a bit. Magda wasn’t onboard to let Cat mourn either. She knew how cutthroat the media business had become and she knew the power of timing, of keeping yourself always in the game.
    “Look,” Magda said, “you’ve got one more day to feel sorry for yourself. And then you need to realize that you cannot take this personally. You are great at what you do. People love you. Some sucky execs don’t. But the streets are littered with on-air folks laid off in the past five years whose faces will never meet the gaze of a studio camera again. One day they’re in your kitchen every morning, the next day, they’re out. Right?”
    “Yeah, I mean, Karla was great in the mornings and I can’t even get a hold of her now.” Cat held back a tear. “I think she’s done . . . And she was great.”
    “Hon, you’ve got something, though, that others don’t—a niche, right?” Gabi had built herself up from a small