“Well, that sweet woman must believe you didn’t kill Lisa,” Floyd said, slurring just a little. “Otherwise she’d never have gotten into that car with you.”

“I thought the same thing.”

“All right, then. Sounds promising.”

“I don’t know,” Luke replied, and sighed. “I’ve lost a lot of friends recently, and I’m finding it hard to make new ones. Besides, she’s young. She doesn’t want to kick around with a middle-aged has-been like me.”

“Age doesn’t matter when it comes to friendship,” Floyd said. He finished his drink and set the glass down with a shaky hand. “We’re proof of that.”

“We are.” Luke nodded. “But this . . . shit, I don’t know . . .”

“No excuses.” Another cough rumbled from Floyd’s thin chest. He covered his mouth, waited a second, and continued. “Whether it’s Kitty or someone else, you need to make new friends. What’s more, you need to rediscover your sense of purpose.”

Purpose. The word ghosted through Luke’s mind, leaving a cold trail. Similar words followed: ambition . . . desire . . . motivation. These had all been in abundant supply when, at the age of twenty-two, Luke left Wisconsin for Hollywood. Tall, square jaw, great hair, he believed the roles would fall into his lap. This wasn’t the case. He auditioned for commercials, TV shows, music videos, voice-over work, TV movies, independent movies, and all-out blockbusters, working two jobs—washing cars and waiting tables—to keep a roof over his head. It took three years to score anything. His first acting gig was a commercial for Delta Air Lines. (He flashed a bleached-white grin while another actor, dressed as a flight attendant, handed him a fake magazine.) Commercials for Burger King and Head & Shoulders followed, then an under-five in the NBC family drama The Natural Way.

His sense of purpose never faltered. That breakthrough role, he assured himself, was only an audition away. It finally came in 2012, ten years after landing in Hollywood: costarring in the acclaimed HBO thriller A Bullet Affair. Doors opened more readily after this. People knew his name. He was invited to parties and premieres. His agent went from calling him once every three months to twice a day.

More TV work, on notable shows: Reno and Down; Retribution Gulch; Chain Lightning. Then it was on to the big screen: Out of Midnight; Red Town; Ventura Knights; Never Always Comes. These pictures were not blockbusters—not even close—but Luke’s star power was bolstered, for better or worse, by his tumultuous marriage to soul singer Lisa Hayes.

Everything changed after Lisa. Doors weren’t simply closed. They were slammed shut. His agent and his management team parted company with him, and he was scratched from two projects at the pre-production stage—both with the kind of A-list talent attached that would have propelled him to the next level.