Through the crackle of bad reception, Mischa sounded dubious. “If you get the film made, then the board will be happy to compensate you for the project. But honestly, River, I’m not holding my breath. We’ve all enjoyed working with you, and we’re excited to have a woman of your acting credentials supporting the state. Maybe we can work out something involving a commercial endorsement at a later time?”

It took everything she had not to tell Mischa where to tuck that suggestion. River finally had a project worth doing, something that was hers and hers alone, and they were ripping it away. She wouldn’t let this happen.

Another car came by, this one barely slowing. For some reason, the lack of interest gave her hope.

“River?”

“Yes, I’m here. Sorry, there was traffic. Don’t give the contract to anyone else. Let me and my people get the job done. I’ll front the rest of the bill, and if we don’t deliver, I’ll eat the costs of filming and rework the project into something else. An indie film or something. Deal?”

Mischa agreed—albeit with audible reluctance—and ended the call, leaving River to stare at the background on her phone. It was a picture of her father and herself taken from a Christmas years ago. A man who had hated seeing her leave but had never once stopped supporting and encouraging her.

River refused to call him and tell him another career was over. She would make this documentary, no matter what.

The headset beeped, Jessie’s voice coming over. “Hey, turn around and do a second loop. This time without the suitcase. You can leave it where you’re at, tucked behind that boulder just off the road. It’s out of the shot.”

“Thank goodness. My arm is killing me.”

“Think of it as weight training,” he teased. “I didn’t realize we were doing a reaction shot.”

River grimaced. “Did I fall out of character?”

“Only for a moment. I’d hate to be whoever was on the other end of that call. Please tell me it was Sweeny. Watching you eat him alive has been the highlight of my career.”

Sweeny had been the director on one of River’s films, the one she’d met Jessie on. Brilliant, but a total pain to work for. Unlike her counterparts, River had gone head-to-head with him more than once. Somehow that turned into a brief, ill-advised, and excessively frustrating relationship that River was more than happy to be done with. Sweeny and Jessie had butted heads almost as much as River had, and he was a big part of why Jessie had lost his most recent project.

“I wish,” she said. “I stopped taking his calls. Sweeny’s still trying to ‘fix’ me.”

Jessie snorted. “How’s that working out for him?”