My meeting with Zac Borstein is brief, no more than ten minutes, but I’m aware that it’s ten of the most important minutes of my life, and it takes all my acting ability and self-control to remain cool and relaxed in his presence. Zac is friendly and polite, but he doesn’t waste time. He drills me on my acting experience and my goals for the future, asks me to cold-read some lines from the movie he’ll be starting in a few months, then stands up to shake my hand.

The interview is over. I have no idea what he thinks of me, and I resist the temptation to ask.

“Thank you, Mr. Borstein. I really appreciate your time.”

“A pleasure, Archer,” he replies. “Let me walk you out, and we’ll have Carla set you up with a screen test. There’s a small role in Sea Scape that you might be a good fit for.”

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate the opportunity,” I manage to say, but it’s all I can do not to jump into the air and shout.

A screen test! I’m screen-testing for Zac Borstein’s next movie!

Zac introduces me to his assistant, Carla, shakes my hand again, and disappears back into his office. Carla makes an appointment for me to come to the studio the following Monday for the screen test, gives me some pages from the script to look over, and I walk out of Windstorm Studios, my feet hardly touching the ground.

Short of him offering me a leading man role on the spot—which was a unicorn dream—I couldn’t have asked for things to go better. Even if this role falls through, I’m on his radar. My CV is on Zac Borstein’s desk, and I’ve spoken to the man face to face.

This is it. My big break.

And I can’t wait to tell Annabelle about it.

I take only a few steps down the street when I stop to pull out my phone. Leaning against the wall of the building, I call Annabelle. The phone begins to ring. A tall, attractive brunette walks past me as I’m waiting for Annabelle to pick up and gives me a slow once-over before smiling suggestively. I ignore her, and she heads into the studio.

Finally, voicemail picks up.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. I have some amazing news,” I say. “What are you doing tonight? I want to take you out to celebrate. Give me a call as soon as you can, okay? I miss you.”

I hang up, chuckling to myself. Who’d have thought, Archer Carlson, Man Whore, would be brought to his knees by little Miss Physics Student?

I’m humming to myself as I walk down the street to my car. The sun is shining warmly on my face, the sky is a glorious shade of blue. It’s a beautiful day, just like it always is in LA, but it seems even better today than usual. The colors are brighter, the air is fresher, everything about it is perfect.

My phone rings and I pull it out quickly, assuming it’s Annabelle. A quick glance at the caller i.d., though, and I see it’s Cassandra. Maybe she has more work for me. It’ll be welcome, but if everything goes well, soon I’ll be able to leave jobs like Gentlemen, Inc. behind altogether.

“Cassandra, good morning!” I say, my good mood announcing itself in the tone of my voice.

“Archer, I need to talk to you about your role last week with Annabelle Winter.”

“It went great,” I tell her. With any luck, Cassandra will never know how great it was.

“Miss Winter didn’t seem to think so. The review she submitted was not complimentary.”

I stop in my tracks, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“She said you made her feel tawdry and cheap—her words—and that you humiliated her in front of her family. Archer, what on earth happened?”

It’s a moment like in the movies where the music is playing and suddenly you hear the scratch of the needle across the record, and then silence.

“Cassandra, I … I don’t know. It went great. She was happy … with everything. I thought. Are you sure she wasn’t … joking or something?”

What had gone wrong?

“Archer, I’m very disappointed. Your record so far has been excellent, and I’m willing to believe that there might be more to this situation than I’m aware of, but I can’t send you out on any more roles until we’ve sorted out exactly why she’s so upset.”

“I don’t know,” I repeat stupidly. Had I said something wrong in my texts? Should I have called her last night even though it was late? Less than 48 hours ago, we were crazy about each other. How did things go bad so quickly?

“I’m not sure what’s going on, Cassandra,” I say. “I’ll call Annabelle—“

“She gave you her number?” Cassandra sounds suspicious. “You know that all client-Gentlemen communication is supposed to go through the company.”

Shit. There’s a clause in the contract that says the client and the Gentleman she hires won’t contact each other directly for three months after the role; it’s to prevent Gentlemen and clients from making arrangements on their own and cutting Cassandra out.

“She … uh, insisted that I take it in case anything happened and I couldn’t get to the party,” I say, my acting skills deserting me when I most need them. It sounds lame, and I know Cassandra won’t buy it.

“Archer, I’m sorry, but this all sounds very strange. Up until now, I’ve been very pleased with your performance, but as of now, I’m striking you from our roster of available Gentlemen. Good-bye.” She hangs up.

I’m not happy about ending things on that note with Cassandra, whom I respect, but my concerns about her pale in comparison to my worries about Annabelle. I try her number again, but it just rings once and goes straight to voicemail. Has she blocked me?

Not sure what else to do, I call an Uber and head back to the apartment. Even if she’s pissed at me, I can’t see Annabelle not giving back my wallet; sooner or later, we’ll have to arrange to meet, and I’ll figure out what’s going on then.

I walk into the apartment, trying to keep quiet. I checked on Alex this morning, but she still isn’t feeling well after her marathon drinking session this weekend. She called in sick from work, and I don’t want to disturb her. I make some coffee, wondering what to do about Annabelle. I check my phone at least a half dozen times before the coffee’s finished brewing, just in case I don’t hear a text come in, but there’s nothing.

I pour a cup and walk into the living room, then I see it: my wallet on the coffee table. I pick it up—yes, definitely mine, driver’s license, credit cards and all. Even that stupid card from Annabelle’s aunt.

I narrow my eyes as I run my thumb over the worn leather, then put down the coffee, walk down the hall and knock on Alex’s door.

“What?” she groans.

“Come here, I need to ask you something. Please.”

After what seems like several minutes but is probably just a very long few seconds, she opens the door. She sees the wallet in my hand and nods.

“Oh, yeah. Your friend came by and dropped that off.”

“What did she say?”

Alex blinks blearily.

“Alex, tell me. This is important.”

Alex slumps dramatically against the door frame. “Um … she said to tell you she’d stopped by. I guess you somehow talked her into letting you stay with her for the weekend? How’d you meet her? She’s not your usual type at all—”

“Alex, what was she like? Was she upset? How was she behaving?”

Alex huffs out a sigh. “Dude, I’ve got to sit down.”

“Come on. I just made coffee.” I grab her by the arm and pull her down the hallway. “Sit.”

She sits on the couch, and I pour her a cup of coffee with cream, no sugar, the way she likes it. I hand it to her then pull up a chair so I’m facing her. “I need you to tell me everything that happened, Alex. It’s important.”

She frowns over her coffee cup. “Who is this girl?”

I keep my voice deliberately calm. “I spent the weekend with her, and it’s really important that I get in touch with her, but she’s not answering my calls. I think she’s upset with me, and I’m trying to figure out why.”

She looks at me suspiciously. “Well, did you pull one of your seduce-and-abandon moves? Because she did not look like the type who’d take that in stride.” She closes her eyes and takes a sip of coffee.

I clench my jaw and pray for patience. “Alex, I need to know everything she said and everything you said.”

Alex looks up at the ceiling as if trying to recall. “Umm … she asked if I was your roommate and if I was okay. I told her I was a little hung over from the weekend—” She gives me a guilty look. “I might have been a little rude to her. I think I said I wasn’t really up for much conversation.”

“What else?”

Alex shrugs. “She gave me your wallet—honestly, I thought she must have found it somewhere.” She yawns. “I never would have thought you’d be hanging out with a girl like that. I mean, she’s kinda cute, but—“

“Alex, focus!” I snap, and she looks at me in surprise.

“Archer, what’s going on? Who is this girl? What are you so upset about?”

“Alex, what did she say?” I’m almost shouting now.

Alex finally seems to be taking the situation seriously. She puts down her coffee cup and looks at me. “She just asked me to tell you she’d dropped by.”

I look at her. “And what did you say?”

Alex shrugs again. “I don’t know … thanks for bringing the wallet … Oh.”

“Oh what?”

“I … I said something along the lines of don’t get your hopes up.” She looks at me then shifts her gaze away. “Sorry. I guess it was rude, but she looked like she was probably half in love with you, and I know you’re never going to call her—”

I groan and let my head fall into my hands.

Alex stares at me. “Were you going to call her?”

My head snaps up. “Yes!” Alex looks startled. “I like her, Alex. I like her a lot.”

Alex’s expression is concerned, as if she’s worried about my mental health, but she’s smart enough not to push it. “I’m sorry, Archer. I could tell she had a crush on you, I just felt sorry for her. And I guess I’m still kind of bitter about Trevor and took it out on her a little.” She winces. “Is she mad?”

I look down at the coffee table again. “She’s mad, all right. I feel like there has to be more to it than that, though. Did you say anything else? Anything at all?”

Alex shakes her head, trying to think. “I told her we’d had a fight and I’d kicked you out for the weekend—“

“She knew that already.”

“Told her we were fine now. Said I love you but you’re an asshole when it comes to women—“

“You told her you love me?”

“Well, in, like, a friend way. Don’t get freaked out.”

“I’m not freaked out about you. I’m freaked out about her. Do you think she thinks you and I are together?”

Alex is silent for a moment, considering. “You know, she did seem kind of surprised to see me. Did she not know you lived with a woman?”

“God damn it!” I pick up a throw cushion and hurl it against the wall. I was sure I’d told her … but maybe I’d just said the name Alex, and Annabelle has assumed my roommate was a guy.

“I don’t remember exactly what I told her,” I say. “Maybe I assumed she knew, and she didn’t. I look at her in dismay. “Is that what you were wearing when you answered the door?”

Alex looks down at her braless chest and short shorts. “Um, yeah?”

I groan. I’m sort of pissed at Annabelle that she couldn’t have given me the benefit of the doubt, but from her perspective, I can see it was kind of a perfect storm that made me and Alex look like lovers.

Alex leans forward and pats my arm. “Just call her and explain. If you want me to talk to her, I will. I’ll tell her I wouldn’t date you if you were the last guy on earth.”

“Thanks, Alex,” I say drily. “I think you’ve done enough for now. The problem is I think she’s blocking my calls.”

“Oh. Ouch.” Alex sips her coffee thoughtfully. I can almost see the wheels in her head turning. She’s trying to think of a way to make this right for me. Despite her breathtaking ability to screw things up, she genuinely means well, and I know she wants to help me.

But I’m not sure that anyone can.

Alex looks up at me. “How did you meet this girl, anyway? Do you have friends in common who could help put you in touch?”

I sigh. “Remember that gig with Gentlemen, Inc. last week that you were teasing me about?”

Over the next few minutes, I spill the whole story to Alex, who, despite her hangover, listens intently. I half wonder if she’s thinking about plot points for her next screenplay, but if she is, she’s wise enough not to say so.

“So you don’t know where she lives?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I picked her up at her parents’ house. I guess I could drive out there and ask them …” I’m not sure what she’s told them or what kind of reception I’d get there, but I’ll do it if I have to.

“What about her sisters?” Alex asks.

“I don’t have their numbers. I know where they work, though.”

Alex shakes her head. “Last resort. You don’t want to look like a stalker.” She sighs. “Well, you know where she goes to school. I bet you could get her email off their directory.”

I nod. It’s a good idea, but if she’s not willing to talk to me, I’m not sure how willing she’ll be to read my emails.

“Maybe you could just go hang out in the physics department and hope you run into her.”

I frown. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be a stalker.”

Alex grimaces. “No. Just tossing out ideas here.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I know. I appreciate it, Alex.” I rub my temples. “I have a screen test with Zac Borstein next Monday.”

“What?” Alex almost drops her cup and coffee sloshes onto the coffee table.

“It worked. The whole ‘make the family love me so they put me in touch with their famous director friend.’ They did. That’s where I was this morning, at an interview with him. He asked me to come back for a screen test.”

“Oh my God!” Alex stumbles into the kitchen and back with a handful of paper towels. “That’s great news, Archer. Congratulations! What’s he like? When’s your screen test? If he needs any writers, you’ll mention me, right?”

I lean back in my chair, barely registering her words. I look out the window, while Alex continues to chatter and clean up the table. The sky is the same deep blue it was an hour ago, but it’s somehow lost its brilliance. The sun doesn’t seem as bright and the trees aren’t as green.

I have almost a week to prepare for my screen test. I need to look over the lines his assistant gave me, set up a meeting with my acting coach to prepare, and figure out what I’m going to wear.

I’ll get those things done. I’ll show up for my big break, and whatever they want me to be, I’ll be. Because I’m an actor, and what I do best is pretend to be something I’m not.

But I’m not going to be happy again until I get to the bottom of this thing with Annabelle.