“I understand that Finn was upset that I didn’t loop him in,” I say, “but I still don’t understand why he couldn’t have stepped back and realized it was a good thing, or at least had a discussion with me about it. It isn’t like there’s a contract with Sal that has been drafted. He’s just interested. Finn flew off the handle.”

“What do you think Dad would have done if I’d come home from the Pantene shoot and handed him a check, saying, ‘Go get your camera, babe’?”

I roll my face into the pillow and groan. “Dammit.”

“What are we ‘dammiting’?” Dad asks from the doorway, lifting his mug to his lips to sip his coffee.

“Your daughter is learning relationship rules,” Mom says.

He snorts. “Finally.”

“Are you two done giving me crap?” I ask, climbing out of bed in a half-feigned huff. “I am very busy and have important things to do.”

“You work today?” Dad calls to me as I stomp down the stairs. I can hear from his tone he doesn’t think I am.

I pause on the third step, shooting Dad a dirty look he can’t see. “No!” I yell back.

“Call Finn!” Dad shouts at me down the stairs. “I like him!”

THE PROBLEM IS, I don’t want to call Finn. I want to drive to Canada, kick him in the nuts, and then drive home. He’s acting like a giant baby, and leaving town the way he did showed his ass. I’m tempted to mail him a care package with a plastic halibut, a copy of Salvatore’s latest film on DVD, and a box of tampons.

I officially leave my internship at NBC, and I swear no one will even notice I’m gone, or if they do, the narrative will be Hollywood Child Can’t Hack Being Coffee Girl. Salvatore sets up an office for me in his Del Mar building, and when I promise him I’ll be the best coffee girl he’s ever had, he laughs and tells me that’s great, but I’ll probably be up at the Los Angeles offices with him at least three days a week so someone else can handle coffee duty.

This news is dropped like a bomb full of glitter and puppies in my lap: Not only has he given me a job, but he’s made me his primary assistant. I went from NBC coffee-pourer to the right-hand woman of one of Hollywood’s biggest producers. My dad doesn’t even blink when I tell him the news.

“Knew it was just a matter of time,” he tells me instead, and gives me that smile that makes me feel like I’m the brightest, most beautiful star in the entire sky.