“Sure have,” I say.

Steph orders us French toast and bacon and Bloody Marys without speaking to anyone. When the food arrives, we eat and drink on my couch, not talking and watching 48 Hours. It’s one we’ve both seen, about a mom who maybe killed her son.

“I just don’t get how a mother could kill her son,” Steph says.

“You don’t have kids,” I say. “You don’t understand.”

She looks at me strangely. I don’t want to kill Bo, obviously, but he does get under my skin. He never replied to my apology text after Thanksgiving, and I haven’t tried to reach out either because I’m pissed. He spent the one of two times a year he sees me to take care of his friend he sees every day, a friend whose parents live in LA County. I worked so hard to give him a good life, waiting tables at that shithole restaurant, and he’s done nothing to repay me. I wish I could go back to twenty years ago, when he was smiling hard and thanking Jen and me for protecting him on the roller coaster. Why isn’t he thanking me now?

Steph slurps up the last sip of her Bloody Mary. “I had the weirdest dream last night.” She wipes some orange liquid from her lip. “You found Bo’s father’s driver’s license in a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. And you drove to his house, and it was right by Beth’s.”

I think about telling her the truth, that it isn’t a dream, but instead I just say, “That’s so weird.”

Exalted said I could be secretive with my emotions.

I like my little secret.

EMILY.

“When I know, I know.” That’s what Beau said when he got the final shot, and his voice keeps cycling through my head in a loop. It felt so good to be in front of his camera. He worked so quickly, so effortlessly—very exalted behavior. After the first shot, we didn’t speak at all. He moved and I moved, and it was as though we were exchanging dialogue through vibrations. After about eight shots, he said he was done.

“When I know, I know.”

I collapse onto my bed and text Cinnamon: I felt magical in front of his camera. Then I worry that is a corny thing to say, but who cares? I feel like I belong on a LIFE IS GOOD T-shirt.

Before she responds, my dad texts me. I saw the billboard for Phantasy today. (Very Freudian title.) I’m so proud of you.

My heart sinks. I take a deep breath. It’s so incredible, I write. I got to go to an advanced screening. This isn’t the movie of his I’m in, of course. That one hasn’t started filming yet.