I was quiet as the words sank in.
Topher continued, “You’ve got three weeks to prove to them—and to yourself—that you can pull this off. So, stop making excuses and figure it out. Because if you quit now, you’re handing the role that you deserve to someone else.”
Three weeks. That was all the time I had to salvage my career.
Topher was silent for a beat, but then he went into problem-solving mode. “Okay, go see my mom at Muses. She’s not going to fix your life or anything, but she’s a friendly face. And honestly, you could use one right now. This time, make sure she’ll be there. Text her and let her know what disguise you’ll be wearing.”
After we said goodbye, I tossed the phone onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. Another guy. They were already looking at another guy for my role.
But Topher was right. Complaining wouldn’t fix this.
I looked out the window again and imagined the chaos of New Orleans. The music, the laughter, the life. It wasn’t Hollywood. But maybe, just maybe, it could be precisely what I needed.
If I didn’t screw it up again.
11
ANNA
I never thought beinga tour guide to a movie star, if you could even call it that, would change my life. But after one outing, I was sure: I would never, ever do it again.
Marie Antoinette popped up from behind the bar as I walked into Muses for my evening shift, her red hair a fiery halo in the dim light. “Anna, darling,” she said with her trademark smirk, “tell me all about the date.”
I froze. “Date?”
“Don’t play coy.” She wagged a finger at me. “You don’t fool me. Sparks were practically flying between you and Nigel, or as I like to call him,Sir Swoons-a-Lot. The heat between you two was so palpable that you could’ve fried a full English breakfast on the bartop.”
Determined to change the subject, I rolled my eyes. “He’s probably on a plane back to England by now. Like you always say, ‘There’s no point in waterin’ last year’s crop.’”
I pretended to busy myself cleaning pint glasses, but my hands trembled slightly. What would she say if she knew that the man People magazine had once declared the “World’s Most Eligible Bachelor,” was staying just a few streets away from this bar? Just the thought of it sent a shiver down my spine.
But it didn’t matter. Luke and I had agreed it wouldn’t work. The arrangement, the partnership, whatever you wanted to call it, was doomed from the start. My time was too important to waste on someone who, for all his charm, was just an out-of-touch, rich guy who wouldn’t know how to interact with real people if his life depended on it.
“Oh, poor Luke Fisher,” Marie Antoinette said suddenly, drawing my attention.
My head popped up, and I sloshed soapy water onto the counter. “What? Where?”
The bar went silent as every head turned toward me. I winced, realizing I’d shouted.
She raised an eyebrow. “Relax,” she said, pointing at the TV. “Luke Fisher’s on the screen, not in the room.”
I followed her gaze to the television, where Luke’s too-familiar face filled the frame. A moment later, it was replaced by an image of Sienna Hart draped over her new flame, Dylan Sanders.
“Sienna must’ve lost her mind,” Marie Antoinette said, shaking her head. “Imagine breaking up with Luke Fisher.”
Suppressing the irritation building inside me, I muttered, “Seems even the world’s most beautiful woman can see through his act.”
Marie Antoinette turned to me, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, someone poured vinegar in your sweet tea. I think Sienna’s a fool. As they say, ‘Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly cuts clean to the bone.’”
“Who said that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Me. And Dorothy Parker,” she replied with a wink.
Before I could respond, her attention shifted to the entrance like a heat-seeking missile. She fanned herself dramatically with both hands. “Would you look at that specimen of manliness? My, my, my. If he’s interested in a fling, I say get ready to get flung.”
I followed her gaze, curious despite myself. A brown-haired man with a face straight out of a Hugh Grant movie stood in the doorway, his posture casual but commanding. He wore sunglasses indoors, which was an automatic red flag, and carried himself with a kind of effortless charm that screamednot from around here.
“Who even looks like that in real life?” Marie Antoinette whispered, clutching her chest. “It’s not fair.”
