April was still struggling. And unless she somehow landed a role as famous as Scarlett O’Hara, she’d never get over it. She could barely disguise her disdain for Cleo. Daisy was guilty by association. Which didn’t make for pleasant chitchat between takes. What it did make for was a totally believable scene when April had to wrap her hands around Daisy’s throat and scream like a maniac. Daisy was relieved that scene had been shot first, and April was gone.

Daisy was ready to go home. I just hope we finish these reshoots by tomorrow, she thought. Poor Cleo is waiting for me to drive back cross-country with her. If only she’d get another part like she had in My Super Super. April could never have done justice to that role. Cleo adopted some of the mannerisms of the super at her apartment complex in L.A. to hilarious effect in the film.

There was a knock at the door. “Daisy, are you ready?” one of the production assistants called.

“Be right out.” Daisy looked at her reflection in the cracked, dirty mirror. A dingy lightbulb hung overhead. “Ugh,” Daisy mumbled as she fluffed her dark brown hair. “Lighting is everything.”

Like Cleo, she was twenty-four. They’d met in acting class, done a scene together, and hit it off immediately. And now we’re both working actors, Daisy thought. Cleo is famous but she’s still the same Cleo.

It would be so perfect if we were in a film together, Daisy thought as she grabbed a tissue from her purse and used it to open the door. No way I’m touching that handle.

Daisy stepped outside and got into the jalopy that was used to transport anyone on the film who needed a ride. The next scene was taking place down the dusty highway where she and her new love are stranded with a flat tire.

The driver of the car was an eighteen-year-old boy named Zeke who was mad about Cleo Paradise. He never stopped asking Daisy about her. But Daisy didn’t mind. She was proud of her friend.

They started to pull out of the station.

“Your friend,” the kid began.

“Cleo?” Daisy asked somewhat amused.

“What movie is she doing now?”

“She’s not doing a movie now,” Daisy answered.

“Yes she is. I just read it on my BlackBerry. But nobody seems to know much about it.”

Daisy shook her head. “No. You must be mistaken. I just talked to Cleo Monday night. She’s in New Jersey at a house she rented, waiting for me to join her. We’re going to drive back to California together.”

The kid shrugged. “Some lady’s having a garage sale and is selling some of Cleo’s stuff. Cleo had stayed at her house or something. Cleo’s not there anymore.”

“She’s selling Cleo’s things?”

“Her clothes.”