“Your face,” Samuel said to me, mocking, but kindly enough. “That face of yours.”
“Is he in the movie industry?” I asked.
Samuel and Émilie threw their heads back laughing. They’d already downed half of their glasses.
“You aresofunny!” Émilie said. “My aunt loved you, by the way. It’s a bummer that she thinks you’re not the right fit. You should call her anyway. You never know.”
This was how I found out that I was rejected for a job I didn’t even want. Before I could process that, a group appeared before us. The three girls looked airbrushed: hair impeccably tousled, skyscraping eyelashes, and deadly high heels. The guy accompanying them was overly tanned and never took off his sunglasses. They all kissed hello and screeched with delight at seeing each other.
Once this ecstatic greeting was accomplished, one of the girls turned her attention to me. She was Black and wore an ultrafitted top and mesmerizing purple eyeshadow.
“Who’s this?” Eyeshadow asked Émilie, meaning me.
Émilie beamed as she wrapped an arm around my neck.
“This is our famous friend Lou.”
“I’m Claudine,” Eyeshadow said.
She took in my shoes, my legs, my dress, my jewelry from bottom to top like a high-tech body scanner in a sci-fi movie.
“How many followers do you have?” she added, pointing at my phone.
I’d been taking pictures already, showing off like Marnie had instructed me to. The house was minimalist and stunning. Just being there made me feel rich.
“Claudine’s account is fabulous,” Émilie gushed to me. “She’s one of my favorite influencers.”
“I’m not an influencer,” I said, sounding maybe a little bit like it was insult.
Émilie shook her head. “Of course you are! Peopleloveyou.”
“I’m an actor,” I explained.
The left corner of Claudine’s mouth turned up slightly. “Is that what you call it? I guess it’s kind of like playing a role.”
“No, I’m arealactor. I act in movies.”
Claudine glanced at Émilie, unsure.
“Told you she’s our famous friend,” Émilie said. “She’s inDon’t Be Sad!and she’s besties with Fiona Pills.”
Claudine perked up. Now we didn’t have only her attention but the whole group’s.
Émilie looked so proud. “You all saw that picture I posted, right?”
“I’m jealous. IloveFiona Pills!” the pale girl with pin-straight hair said.
“The way she’s having Odetta Olson run around like a lunatic is to die for,” another girl said.
They all chuckled.
I gazed at the horizon, the pine trees and birds chirping as the sun went down. This was nice. I didn’t know anyone in Cannes when I arrived—aside from Liza—and here I was, partying with friends. Sort of. I was wearing a gorgeous outfit. People on the internet thought I was cool, that I looked good. Maybe my streak of bad luck ended here, tonight, in some tsar’s villa number three.
“You’re inDon’t Be Sad!?”
The question came from the guy in the sunglasses. It was the first time he’d spoken. I plastered a smile on my face and nodded.
He frowned. “Really?”
