“Maybe not,” Lorelai concedes as I follow her out into the last vestiges of early spring sunshine. “But she does have that book now and it’s been sitting pretty on the New York Times bestseller list for months. Clearly there’s interest and it’s not only in her.”

“Exactly, which is why it’s also not happening. Not a chance in hell I’d costar with her. Never mind that she doesn’t know how to renovate a home, doesn’t live in Michigan, and I completely cut her from my life.”

“Honestly, the fact that she wrote a fucking exposé of lies about you, calling you a drug addict and porn star is plenty enough reason not to hire her. One would hope, anyway. But this is Hollywood, Shelb.”

Because even if I’m done with Hollywood, they’re not done with me, and unfortunately, I need that to work in my favor for a little while longer. I wince, slipping on a pair of sunglasses as Lorelai tosses my suitcase in the hatchback. “She didn’t actually say the words ‘porn star,’ did she?” I haven’t bothered to read the book, but Lorelai has. She said one of us should know what’s out there.

“She wrote that you sold sex tapes and nudes for drugs.”

“First of all, everyone knows she didn’t write that book herself. And second, if I’d had a sex tape in circulation, I wouldn’t have had to release that embarrassing bubblegum- pop album of Courtney Love covers.” I shudder, only half kidding. It was not my finest hour, but at least I fired my (second) manager after that.

“You can’t work with her.”

“I’m not! This is all hypothetical. You were the one who brought up Ada Mae.” I wave my hand in front of me, as if to clear the air of bad vibes. “Stop putting that shit into the universe, Jones.” Note to self: pick up some sage next time you’re in town.

We get into the car and Lorelai runs a hand through her ponytail, setting it to swing, and snaps her chewing gum, thinking. She reverses in silence and I wait her out, knowing she has more on her mind and I’m her captive audience for the duration to the airport.

“Shelb, I think you’re doing okay. Really, really excellent, even. And I know. I’ve seen some things,” my best friend reminds me, her gaze taking in the rows of cornstalks sticking out of the still-frozen farm fields.