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I’m unfair. You’re wondering why I came to you and not him.”
    I don’t blink. He continues.
    “Rainer is who he is, but you’re just getting started.There are things you don’t know yet about the way this business works.”
    “What are you saying?”
    “I’m saying that he’s the producer’s son, but you have a shot at actually being an
actress
. Do it right. If not for yourself, then definitely for me, because I will not settle for anything less than the best. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.”
    Wyatt takes off his glasses and tilts his head, the way he does right before he sets up a scene. I know he’s picturing things in his mind, trying to figure out the best angle, how to get the truest version of the moment he’s trying to capture. When he speaks again, his tone has softened, like a piece of plastic in front of a hot flame—it starts to melt at the edges.
    “You know this is just going to get worse,” he says.
    I don’t answer, just stuff my hands down into the pockets of my pajama bottoms.
    Wyatt takes an Evian bottle and rolls it across his forehead, then twists the top and flicks the cap down on the counter. “I don’t think you realize your responsibility yet.”
    “I do,” I say. I’m fighting back tears because I don’t need to hear this, not again, not now. “All I do all day long is think about the responsibility.”
    “Show me.”
    “What?” I just stare at him.
    His eyes are fierce, just like they are on set. He’s challenging me.
“Show me you get it.”
    I want to ask him how, but I know that would make it worse. I should know how. I should
act
how.
    “I will,” I say. I stand with my hands on my hips.
    “This is your life,” he says. His tone is still strong, clipped, but his features have softened. “Once you put something out in this world, you cannot take it back. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes.”
    Wyatt takes another swig and sets the Evian bottle on the counter. He doesn’t say anything as he moves toward the door, and then he turns around. “We may have found our Ed,” he says. “I’m bringing him over to test with you later this week.”
    I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Last I heard, Ed wasn’t expected on set until the very end of filming. He doesn’t have a ton of scenes in the first movie, or a very prominent role in the first book other than in flashbacks. Mostly he comes into play at the beginning and then at the very end.
    Wyatt eyes me. “We’ll see how you chemistry-test, but barring some kind of repulsion”—his eyes flick briefly to his iPad—“he’s the one.”
    “Who is it?” I ask. Not that it matters. I always getcelebrity names jumbled and anyway, I think they were considering another unknown for the part.
    Wyatt looks at me, and I can swear his eyes twinkle. It’s the strangest thing to see. “Jordan Wilder,” he says, before disappearing out the door.
    As soon as he’s gone, I feel my eyes start to burn. My stomach feels sick, too. Did he just accuse me of trying to sabotage this movie? With an affair I’m
not even having
? The exhaustion of the last few weeks—my insecurities about the movie—all come bubbling up to the surface. This time I don’t hesitate: I pick up the phone and call Cassandra.
    “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
    Cassandra’s voice charges through the phone, part high-pitched shriek and part baritone boom, before I can even get in a hello.
    I melt onto a barstool at my kitchen counter. I should have known she’d already have seen them. I think she has a Google alert set on my name. “It’s not true,” I say.
    “Have you seen these pictures?”
    “Yes,” I say. “And that isn’t what happened.”
    I didn’t think I’d have to defend myself to Cassandra like I did Wyatt. I suddenly have the intense desire to hang up and crawl back into bed.
    “Pictures don’t lie,” Cassandra says. Her tone is indignant, and I imagine her on her landline (she talks less