Page 78 of How To Plot a Payback

“What is?” I say.

“Getting into something besides the sitcom. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to try something else.”

“Now don’t,” I say, lifting a finger. This is it. This is how she is going to destroy me. She’s going to take something I say offhand and use it against me. “I didn’t say that.”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“I didn’t mean that.” I fling a flustered hand in the air. “Stay in Neighbors. Keep your head in the clouds and believe the world is full of good and innocent people who will come to your aid the moment you become a damsel in distress. Terrific. But also get some security detail.” I tug Miles to a stop before the crosswalk, turn, and take the opportunity to pull my arm free. “Do it for the sake of everyone else, if you have to think of it that way. Because if you get kidnapped, then we’re all out of our jobs. A lot rides on you, Lavender. Like our livelihoods. And our dreams.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m aware.” She inclines her head toward Seventh Street. “I’m this way.”

I check over my shoulder. See a mass of people walking their dogs, watering streetside plants, carrying grocery bags.

All things regular evil people do when they’re not terribly busy being evil.

“I’m acutely aware that it takes all parts to make this show work, and if one piece fails, the whole thing collapses. I was just saying,” she continues, “if I had the choice, if I was forced to try something else, I wouldn’t be entirely devastated.”

What was that?

There is something poignant in the way she said that. A touch of sadness in her tone. Authenticity. Relatability. So much so I find myself inclining my head her way. For once, she sounds human. Truly . . . normal. “What do you mean, if you had a choice? Of course you have a choice, once your contract is up.” I laugh. “Don’t tell me you’ve been doing this all these years because you fear letting others down.”

She doesn’t respond immediately.

So I add, “Don’t.”

But to my absolute disbelief, she shrugs. “It’s fine. Neighbors is a good show. See you tomorrow,” she says and turns down Seventh Street.

As if that moment doesn’t just make me want to explode. “Are you kidding me, Lavender?” I call after her. “Are you seriously going to keep working for this show in your prime years while you don’t even love it? For what exactly? To keep your costars in business? What exactly would you want to do?”

I check over my shoulder. Sure enough, those teenage boys are still there.

With a guttural growl, I clench my jaw and give in. Fine. Just this once.

I rush down Seventh until I’m beside her. A horn sounds beside us and I switch places, pulling the leash, and her, store-side as I move towards the curb. Resume talking. At this point, I have to admit defeat. Tomorrow will be a new day.

Bernie, for the record, appears to be thrilled Miles and I are continuing on the walk.

“It’s fine, really,” Lavender says. “The show is sweet. It’s been a dream to work with Kye and Sonya since the beginning. But ten years playing the same character is just . . . well, it’s a bit long—”

I check my urge to interject. People would kill for the opportunity to play her role. I would’ve, at one time, killed for the opportunity to play a role. And the job security of a good show is worth a thousand times the instability of a series of failing ones.

Still.

“I wrote for Higher Stakes for eight years and was sick of it by the end. I know how it feels to see the same scenarios play out again and again.”

“So you get it,” Lavender says in a see-we-are-the-same fashion. “But of course, I would never do that to Kye and Sonya. Or the team. I owe everything to Sonya, really. I would never be the one to pull out first.”

It’s such a striking thought. The world has only ever seen Lavender as Ashley Krane. It’s hard to imagine her in any other role. The writer part of me can’t help but be intrigued.

“So what would you do? Film?”

Lavender shrugs. Then after a moment, a sly smile lifts her face. “Actually, I’m a pretty big fan of Higher Stakes.”

I feel a pounding in my chest and make a mental note never to meet Chris at the dog park again.

I can just see it now. Wouldn’t it be so perfectly ironic for me to jump ship from Higher Stakes in order to work at Neighbors, then end up being the one to introduce Lavender to a Higher Stakes producer who convinces her to jump ship—causing Neighbors to crumble while Higher Stakes becomes the show of the decade?

Wouldn’t that be just. The. Way.