Prologue

It was my first weekend in New York, after a rather boring week since all I did was go to the office, walk back home, cook dinner, and sleep. Hit repeat.

I landed here last Saturday, all the way from my home country that is so different from this big city.

Born in Jakarta, grew up in Jakarta, attended uni at Jakarta, worked at Jakarta; my entire life is stamped with Jakarta all over it that stepping foot here is like a slap to my face.

My parents are the kind of people who prefer their kids to blend in with the surrounding community so despite the abundant amount of money they have, they sent my siblings and I to a government school instead of those private ones.

I'd like to think myself as a lucky person considering the amount of procrastination and lazy-ass attitude I've been practicing since forever that somehow, along the way, I always, always managed to get away with everything.

Lucky because I was granted a full scholarship for my bachelor degree at a local university. To be honest, I don't think I'm a smarty pants. This is purely luck.

Lucky because I got an internship at the company others have been aiming. I low-key didn't hope much for anything bombastic. If I get a good placement, sure. If I don't, well, at least I got a placement. Right.

Lucky because I got a job offer at that same company three months after I completed my studies. I don't know what they see in me but hey, if they want me, sure. I'm too lazy to send resumes to multiple companies anyway.

So there, I had everything easy since day one.

Until New York.

I am so used to the pace I had at Jakarta, to chill and procrastinate until there's no more time left to procrastinate further that I had to force myself to finish the assignments but coming here, oh God, I feel like quitting this instant.

Here in Big Apple, everything seems to be fast-forwarded to ten times because everyone, literally every single person I've met here wants things to be fast, fast, fast. Efficient, efficient, efficient. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

It's not just perfect but it's perfect, perfect, perfect.

Well, you get the gist. I'm not gonna repeat every word thrice, bless my fingers because the temperature is so low even the leather gloves I'm wearing right now don't really help. I'm freezing. Frosting. Urgh, again the struggle with the use of correct words. Have I told you how much I hate it here?

One, I need to speak English ALL the time. I'm good with writing but I suck at communicating in this language. I miss my Jakarta so bad, where I can explain stuff at the office either with my broken English or just using the Indonesian language since everybody speaks it.

Two, the weather. We only have one season there; it's hot all year round. Well it does rain sometimes but it's nothing like here. Don't get me wrong, I've been on vacations. I've been overseas. But to live here as in ‘work’ here for a loooong duration of time, it sorts of overwhelms me.

Three, the company. No, not the company I'm working at, though that will come later in the next point but yeah, I mean the people around me.

I only know three people here and the rest are all strangers. And those three? Well, I don't exactly know him or her like we're friends or something. It's more like, ’hey I've seen his/her name before in an email!’ So basically, we're not even acquaintances.

Four, the company. Yes yes, the office. I've mentioned this before, about the different work culture. Perfect, perfect, perfect, remember?

Instead of work-life balance, people seem to focus on the results here. No wonder only high-achiever employees were sent to this New York office. To which come to my last point-

Five, why me. Why. Like seriously, whyyy?

Wait. I do know why. I was just being dramatic, asking God why though I know the management chose me because I'm the only person available for this assignment since everybody else is busy with other international projects.

It's supposed to be this senior Geomodeller who has worked thirteen years in the company but she has to take one year of unpaid leave because of her baby. So here I am, being inexperienced and all, though I shouldn't say that since I've worked for six years now but yeah, whyyy. Why meee.

I whine a lot considering this is just an introduction. Well, better get used to it. Because I do rant, whine, complain, insert other synonyms here because I'm all that.

"Hi." A good looking woman with charismatic voice, dressed in a white winter coat stops me from my walk to the subway station. It's Saturday afternoon but she's dressed as if she's on her way home from work.

Well like I said, New Yorkers are all high achievers. Of course they work on Saturdays too. How would she be able to afford this fancy outfit if she works like me, clocking eight hours then off I go.

Even during that eight hours I'd spend two playing my phone, another two gossiping with co-workers, and finally the last four to actually working. On top of the one hour lunch break, that sometimes extends to another ten to fourty minutes.

But I don't think that lazy-worker behaviour will be happening here since I don't have any friends to be my partner in crime. Maybe, just maybe, I'll finally work during all that eight hours like I'm supposed to.

"Err hi." I'm not sure if I want to talk to this stranger. Mama did warn me not to talk to people who look suspicious.

It's a big city and I'm new here so that calls for bad things to happen. But hey, she looked expensive, so what could go wrong? It's not like she's gonna kidnap me and cut my organs to be sold at the black market, Ma.

"I don't have much time but this is my card," she holds out a small rectangular piece of paper towards me, white just like her coat, shoes and bag, "If you're interested to be an actress, do call me."

My eyes widen upon hearing what she said, "An actress?"

I've decided at this particular moment that this black Michael Kors winter coat I bought last year during my vacation at London is worth every penny for making this magic that gives an illusion of me as a promising actress.

And please, do remind me to tell Mama and Dian that this in-a-whim-purchase is seeing it's rate of return; a compliment from this elegant lady.

It's not exactly a compliment but potato-potato, because actresses in Indonesia are always associated with beauty.

"Call me," she smiles genuinely then walks to the sidewalk, entering a black car that matches her expensive appearance.

I stare at the card I'm still holding as the car has been gone for a couple of minutes now. There's this one big word at the top in capital letters spelling CUPCAKE.

And below it, right in the middle of the card, there is one word which I believe is her surname since it's just a simple ‘Collins’, with a phone number and an email address written under it.

So this Miss Collins scouts people to be actresses? Hence the luxurious car and clothes with charisma sprinkled all over her?

Uhh. This feels too good to be true.

But as I said, I've always been lucky. I've been complaining about my work and within days, I got an offer to switch career? To be an actress?

Is this for real or just a scam? Am I really that lucky?