“Was that a threat?” Dimple asked, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. “That was almost cute, Saffi. Even if you killed me, I’d just come back to haunt you.”
“You really think they’d let you out of hell?”
That startled a laugh out of Dimple. As she looked down at Saffi’s smirk, she felt even more resolved. After seeingInsomnia,even Saffi wouldn’t be able to deny that the end justified the means. She could die knowing she’d been in the wrong all along. The more Dimple felt this desire, the harder those phantom fingers pressed into her neck. It was becoming difficult to breathe.
Saffi turned back to her computer, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and Dimple got the distinct feeling she was going to decline.
Just as the disappointment was settling in, Saffi said, “I’m not paying for a plane ticket.”
Dimple was already heading for the door before either one of them could change their mind. “I already have everything we need; I’ll forward you the details. All you have to do is pack.”
“Hold on, I didn’t say—!”
Dimple only paused to wave goodbye before shutting the door conclusively behind her. She leaned back against it, glad everyone was too busy to take notice of her in such a state. A strand of hair chose that moment to break free of its artful placement, and she hurriedly tucked it away.
It wasn’t just Saffi. The premiere meant the world would see her as a lead for the first time. Even if the film flopped at the box office stage, the way Dimple looked, spoke, and acted would be immortalized like this forever. Frozen in time for generations to come.
Proof that her mother’s death hadn’t been in vain, and it was close enough to taste. She almost wished her aunt and uncle were here so she could shove it in their faces. Although Saffi was right, hell rarely extended the courtesy of a day pass to its inhabitants. Dimple banished them from her thoughts. If anyone’s meaningless existence deserved to be forgotten, it was theirs.
“Oh—hello,” a familiar voice said.
Dimple straightened at once. Atlas had a half-eaten granola bar in hand, jaw slack in surprise. When she nodded politely at him, he immediately returned the gesture.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh, just visiting,” she replied vaguely.
“By the way, have fun at TIFF. You’ll have to tell me all about it,” Atlas said.
“Actually, you can ask Saffi. She’ll be coming with me.”
Dimple, admittedly, only said it to see what kind of reaction it would elicit from Atlas. There was a brief flash of jealousy that amused her greatly.
“Will she, now?” he asked, thoughtfully. “I have to admit it’s strange how much the two of you have hit it off. You couldn’t be more different. I’m surprised her terrible attitude didn’t put you off.”
“I find it rather endearing,” Dimple replied.
“Fair enough. That’s how Saffi treats the people she respects.”
Dimple blinked up at Atlas, caught off guard.
“Right?” he laughed. “It’s no wonder she has no friends other than us.”
Us.Dimple contemplated that for far longer than necessary.
“Can you do me a favor?” Atlas asked suddenly, wrenching Dimple from her thoughts. “Look out for her, will you?”
Atlas had such an earnest gaze, another one of the rare reminders that he and Saffi held more than just contempt for each other. She thought of a photograph, three foreheads brushing, huddledaround paperwork. He had no idea the weight of what he was asking, nor whom he was asking it of. Nor did he have the self-awareness to know that he was part of the reason Saffi needed looking out for.
“I will,” Dimple said. “I promise she’s safe with me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
September 5, 2026
Saffi stifled ayawn into the crook of her elbow. She was flying to Toronto the same day ofInsomnia’s premiere. Planes always made her sleepy, but that fact was only exacerbated by how late she’d stayed up the night before. She’d gone to speak with Hector Olsen, knowing it would bother her for the entirety of their trip if she waited. Besides, it had taken weeks for her to convince Olsen to meet with her in the first place and she refused to let the effort go to waste. If she’d known how irritating the man could be, she might’ve stuck to exchanging emails instead.
“I’m the best director in Hollywood and this is how they repay me?” Olsen had ranted. “It’s like everyone’s forgotten how many of my movies have won Oscars! I’ve created the careers of ninety percent of the actors working in Hollywood right now!”
