My agent, Rita, calls late the following afternoon. She wants to meet so she can bring me up to speed on everything. I agree to meet her for lunch the following day.

I take care to pick out a very conservative outfit. Although, thinking back, that’s exactly what I did the last time and look where it landed me. I opt for a cute, flowery dress along with a sweater. I add ballet flats and take a quick glance in the mirror on my way out—I look like a rockabilly chick. Oh well, maybe Rita will like that look on me.

Rita’s already waiting when I arrive, even though I’m early. She greets me with a huge smile. I pray that’s a good sign because I need good right now.

“Midnight, you look amazing.” She hugs me.

“Thank you. I feel pretty good too.” I hope she can’t tell I’m lying and that I’m scared shitless.

“First off, I hope the new contract meets your approval.”

“Yes, I went over it and it looked the same as the old.”

“It is. Only the dates were changed. Are you able to sign it today?”

“Sure. I can do it after lunch,” I say.

“Great. I want you to know that we’ve been fielding calls for you constantly since you’ve been gone. This whole thing has really notched up your career.”

Well, fuck me upside down. Harrison was right after all. “Really?”

“I’ll have someone link you up with the fan page from the studio so you can see. Alta has a separate one as well. There’s no way you can answer all the emails. It’s ridiculous. But I do want you to have a look. There’s a Facebook fan page, a Twitter account, an Instagram page, you name it. They even set up a special website for you. They called it Midnight’s Minions. I’m positive after filming starts, your stuff will literally explode.”

“I don’t know what to say. Midnight’s Minions? That’s crazy.”

“It just shows you how much people will stand up for you. And all you have to say is you’re ready for the new version of the script.”

“The new version?” I’m familiar with the old one. A case of anxiety rushes over me.

“Just some minor changes,” she says.

“Oh, yes. Yes, I am. More than ready.” My fingers itch for a gummy bear that’s sitting in my purse. My mouth waters for one, but I restrain myself.

The waitress pops over and takes our order. I’m reeling with this website thing. After the waitress is gone, Rita explains where we stand. The film, Turned, is about a man who loses his job and is desperate for money. He ends up robbing a bank with a group of thugs to save his family from financial ruin, but of course, things don’t work out like he plans. The people he robs the bank with are true criminals, unlike him, and they end up killing a bunch of innocent bystanders. He has to figure out a way to either get out of the country or turn himself in.

I’m playing the guy’s wife and eventually, he ends up turning himself over to the police. But he gets killed in the final scene, where the wife watches it all unfold. It’s a gritty, root-for-the-bad-guy film. In the end, the wife leaves town with her daughter, fleeing to start a new life. It’s heart-rending, emotional, and moving with an all-around ugly-cry sort of ending.

“Apparently, Holt and the rest of the crew are dying to get started with you, and as soon as you learn the script, they’re ready to go. They’ve already been filming.”

“I’m ready, Rita. I just need some time to get my new lines down.”

She hands me the revised screenplay and says, “Do it, then. You’ll see there aren’t many changes in this. Since they’re filming part of it here, and then the other part in Santa Monica, they don’t have to make any heavy-duty travel arrangements. How much time do you need to re-familiarize yourself with the script? I know you already have a copy, but they’ve actually made a few changes since you’ve been gone. Nothing major, though.”

I look at what she hands me and take some time to thumb through it. I’m a fairly quick study. “Shouldn’t take me long. If I start reading this afternoon, I should be done by tomorrow.”

“Excellent. I’ll let Danny and Greg know.” Greg is the director, which I’m super excited about because his reputation is stellar. “They both want to do the table read ASAP. How about the day after tomorrow, then? That’ll give you an extra day just in case. This shouldn’t be all that different from the last time you went through it.”

I nod, saying, “Yeah, I like that idea.”

“Good. I think everyone else will too.”

“Even Holt?”

Rita chuckles. “I don’t think Danny gives a shit what he thinks. Holt will do as Danny says.”

“Then everything sounds great to me.”

The waitress delivers our salads. Before Rita digs into hers, she asks, “How much time afterward do you think you’ll need before we go into production?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I can answer that. I learn fast and am quick on my feet. Do you know if Greg minds a bit of improvising?”

Rita’s brow furrows. “I’m not sure they’ll want you straying off script too much.”

“Oh, I won’t. I just may not hit the exact words every single time.”

“My suggestion would be to try your best not to do that. Is a week enough?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll let them know,” Rita says. “Keep in mind, we’re already behind thirty days. All the sets have been established. They’ve already shot the bank robbery scenes, and they’ve completed a few of the others that don’t involve you. Of course, I’m not the decision-maker here. Keep that in mind.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. And Rita, I promise you, I’ll work harder than anyone on this.”

After lunch, we go to her office to sign the updated contract and part ways after that. For the first time since I entered that godforsaken rehab, I feel lighthearted. I owe Harrison. He was right about how the people would respond.

Wasting not even a second, I dash home and devour the screenplay. I am so immersed in it, I don’t even take a break to eat. I only stop when I’m finished at four in the morning. This is epic. Tears course down my cheeks, and I have to use paper towels to dry my eyes because I’m fresh out of tissue. Each time I read this, it’s more impactful than the last. Holt better play this as it’s written because this is Oscar-worthy stuff. I can’t remember when I’ve been so moved by anything.

My emotions are so raw and exposed, there’s not a chance I’ll be able to sleep. Looks like Netflix will be my balm tonight. I hunt for something to make me drowsy, but nothing interests me except for Daredevil. I turn it on and before I know it, the sun brightens my room. I’m exhausted yet jacked up at the same time. This screenplay is so dynamic and full of style, I want to shower and run to the studio right now.

But I’m not exactly thinking clearly. Padding to the kitchen to power up the Keurig, I cradle the script tightly to my chest. I’m standing there waiting for the light to turn on when there’s a loud knock on the door. It’s only nine in the morning. Who could that be?

Peeping out the tiny hole, I see Harrison’s face.

“What are you doing here? Trying to bum some coffee?” I ask as I open the door.

“Jesus, you look like hell.”

“Top of the morning to you too,” I say, flipping him off.

I turn away, figuring he’ll follow me into the kitchen. He does. The machine now ready, I brew a cup and hand it to him. “What’s your poison?”

“As is,” he says.

I make another and he asks me why I look so rough. I hold up the script. “This.”

He looks at it. “Ahh. You stayed up all night?”

“Yes. This is fantastic. If Holt doesn’t fuck it up, he should win an Oscar.”

“That good, huh?”

“Oh my fucking hell. It’s everything I’ve always wanted in a movie. Not even kidding one bit. I wish you could read it, Harrison.”

“Damn, it must be great. I’ve never seen you so upbeat. You’re almost giddy.”

“I didn’t fall asleep because I kept thinking about that damn screenplay.”

“Yeah, neither did I, but for different reasons.” He waggles his brows.

I shove his shoulder. “Oh, stop.”

“At least we took care of the new client, but Harrison went home a lonely man when all he wanted to do was fuck Midnight.”

“Poor guy.” I push my index finger into his chest. “Do you know how sorry I feel for Harrison? I bet he went home and watched one of Lusty’s videos.”

“Pervy bastard.”

The way he says it makes me laugh.

“So, how’s your …” He aims his finger between my thighs, making a circle.

“Hmm, isn’t that quite the question this morning?”

He lifts one large, muscular shoulder. I have a flashback of when one of my legs was draped over it.

“I thought so, or I wouldn’t have asked. I figured gummy bear was a bit worn out.” His teeth scrape over his lower lip. Harrison has a mouth that would make a nun orgasm spontaneously.

A change of subject is needed or I may find myself on my knees. “Are you hungry?”

“Of course.” A hoarse laugh rolls out of him.

“Shut up.” I smack him on the arm. “I’ll make you breakfast if you like. I’m starving—I forgot to eat dinner last night.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have eggs. And why didn’t you eat?”

I point to the script I set on the counter. “I got so caught up in that, I never stopped.”

“Damn. You make me want to read it.”

“You can’t. And don’t you dare touch it.” I snap my fingers. He puts his hands in the air, and I pet the script where it sits on the counter. “I can’t begin to explain how great this is.”

“Can you tell me what it’s about at least?”

“Nope. It would spoil when you see it for the first time.”

The butter in the pan sizzles so I put the eggs in and pop some bread into the toaster. In no time, breakfast is ready. Harrison inhales his; I’m only a couple of bites in and his plate sparkles like it wasn’t used.

“Damn. Did you even chew?”

“I was hungry, I guess.”

“There’s more bread if you want to toast it.” He gets up and pops two more slices into the toaster. He devours those too.

“I can cook you more eggs,” I offer.

“Nah, I’m good.”

He makes another cup of coffee and then announces he has to leave. “Time to earn a living.”

“I have to be at the studio at seven tomorrow. We’re doing another table read. Since I’ve been gone awhile, Danny wants to do it again.”

“Good idea,” he says.

I watch him as he lets himself out the door. His tailored black pants look sexy as hell as they hug his hips and firm ass. I remember that ass with my hands molded around it while he did the dirty to me. Will that happen again? I sure as hell hope so. My poor vibrator doesn’t stand a chance as I wait for that time to come.