“Talk to me about good decisions then,” I said, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “What would that look like?”
She let out a sad laugh.
“Well, there are a few days left of the festival. So I’d say finding a new client would be a good decision. Not a man, dear god, at least not a straight man. But someone who can getseriouspublicity would probably change my life right about now.”
I tried my hardest to keep my face still. That story about her hadn’t come out yet, but if it did—whenit did—shewouldget serious publicity, just not the kind she was hoping for. And this would be all my fault. Ruining my life was one thing, but what had I been doing, destroying this perfectly nice woman’s life? Just because I was trying to salvage my job. Just because my boyfriend had betrayed my trust so deeply that a part ofme had felt the need to pay the pain forward.
“What would be a good decision for you?” she asked when I remained silent.
“Exacting revenge,” I said deadpan.
It was a joke. Or was it? Maybe I hated Ben so much right now because I hadn’t gone after what I wanted the way he had. I’d sent my screenplay to that producer, then had ignored her emails for weeks, too chickenshit to deal with the consequences of my own actions.
Meanwhile, Ben was fearless. He hadn’t thought twice about lifting that file off my computer and claiming it as his. Since we’d arrived in Cannes, he’d been putting himself out there, gaining access to the right people almost instantly. He’d managed to getseen, to get his work acknowledged. Of course, it wasn’thiswork, but the strategy was sound. And it had worked.
So why couldn’t I make that happen for myself?
I turned to Constance, alight with a new spark.
“I have an idea.”
She looked at me with such hopeful eyes that I knew then that Ihadto fix this. For her and also for me. If my instincts were right, there might be a way to do both all at once.
I jolted upright and held out my hand, signaling her to do the same.
“Come with me. There’s someone I need you to meet.”
Lou
On the way back from meeting that horrible casting director, I deflated a little more with every step, like a birthday balloon three days past thefun times. Samuel and Émilie had texted me to come join them at some party, but I couldn’t face it.
What did that mean, “for a girl like me?” That woman didn’t know anything about me. But then again, I’d failed hundreds of auditions at this point. I’d been passed over for great roles over and over again. And even when I did manage to get one, we all know what happened. I wasn’t worth even a few seconds of screen time. I had nothing to show for myself. No money. No one.Nothing.
That was the mood as I walked along the sidewalk. A car slowed down to my right and panic seized me. After all my luck in Cannes, I had a vision of ending up butchered in the back of some serial killer’s trunk. For a brief moment, I considered running but, one, my feet hurt and, two, I didn’t care enough to save myself. There, I said it. I had no fight left in me.
I couldn’t get past how cruel it was to have dreams, to have wasted a decade of my life on pursuing them. How could I ever tell my family that they’d been right all along? When would I be strong enough to admitdefeat out loud? I couldn’t face it. I’d have to go into hiding after this. Delete my social media, pretend I was never here.
The car came to a stop, and I looked over my shoulder, slightly panting. The window lowered.
“Can we give you a ride? I’m pretty sure we’re all headed to the same place.”
I squinted in the dark and recognized Marnie, the publicist I’d met a few days ago.
“How do you know where I’m going?”
“Hey!”
Constance leaned over and addressed me with a small wave.
She glanced at my dress and grimaced, unwilling to lock eyes with me. On closer inspection, the two women looked a little like sorority girls on their fourth stop of the night, panda eyes, mussed-up hair, and wrinkled clothes. Considering it was barely dinner time, those were signs their day had gone about as well as mine.
“We wouldreallylike to talk to you,” Marnie said.
I wasn’t getting murdered yet. Marnie shuffled to the middle seat and I got in.
“I recognize the dress!” she added, with a faux breezy tone.
Constance looked out the window, away from me. The driver started again. We rode in silence for a few minutes.
