The Prophet. By CpSingleton © 2014
Carter wasn’t, in his mind, a failed actor. He was content to have the bit parts, the understudy jobs, the odd advertisement for untested products. It gifted him time for what he enjoyed in life: drinking, shagging -which he didn’t get a lot these days-and little flutters on the gee-gees.
He had lost scores of girlfriends because they weren’t content to live with someone who had no ambition.
How dare those gold-digging bitches!? He had ambition!
He was just saving it for when he was older.
Like Freeman or Hopkins.
That was what he told his few friends and the family he could be bothered to talk to.
His peers looked down on him for similar reasons.
But what did they know?
Ladder-climbing sycophants, the lot of them.
He hated the way that they would all…
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