Kitty nodded, catching her breath, then opened her contacts and punched in the number as Luke read it off his own phone. He did so slowly—had to start over twice. Kitty noticed the tremor in his voice, the wetness around his eyes. Dude had been crying.

“That’s Milly Morello.” He spelled her surname. “She’s with Sequoia, a new agency. They don’t have as much clout as WME or CAA, but Milly is building her list, and looking for actors of color.”

“Oh shit, Luke. That’s lit. That’s . . .” Kitty was tired after her run, but suddenly didn’t feel it. She beamed, jumped on the spot. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Luke said, wiping a tear from his cheek. “Milly’s expecting your call.”

“She is? Oh Jesus.” Kitty inhaled and her chest filled, the motion lifting her to her toes. “You have any advice?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, and tapped the side of his nose. “Snort a line of canary before going in.”

“Right,” Kitty said, and raised one eyebrow. “I just need to rob a bank first.”

Canary was the chic new drug in Hollywood. Dubbed a “power nootropic,” it boosted confidence, concentration, and calmed the nerves, and was used primarily as a performance-enhancing drug by celebrities. It was highly sought after, highly illegal, and the price—$800 a gram—kept it exclusive to the Tinseltown elite.

“Just be yourself,” Luke said, wiping another tear away. “Do not kiss ass. Act like you have every right to be there, but don’t be arrogant.”

“I won’t.”

“You have a demo reel?”

“No.”

“We’ll work on that. In the meantime, get new headshots, if you haven’t already. Spend some money on them. It’ll be worth it. There’s a great guy—Antonio Senza—in Toluca Lake. Make him your first call.”

“Got it,” Kitty said.

A car approached, having to steer around Luke’s Caliber. The driver punched the horn and glared.

“Fuck you, buddy,” Luke said under his breath, and then, to Kitty, “I should get out of the road.”

“Wait a second.” Kitty stepped closer, leaned down, hands on her knees. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I—”

“You look . . . upset.”

Luke stared blankly through the windshield. The creases across his brow deepened. “A good friend of mine passed away this morning.”

“Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry.”

“I was expecting it. He was old. Cancer. Still . . . it’s tough, you know?”

Kitty nodded.

“We started out as drinking acquaintances, meeting up every few weeks to share a pitcher and shoot the breeze. But these last few years, he became the most important person in my life.” Luke blinked his wet eyes and exhaled from some lonely place deep inside. “Funeral will be sometime next week. I’m heading to Inglewood now to check in with the family, see if there’s anything I can do to help.”