Clara took a deep breath. “It’s a theme party, superheroes and all that crap.”

“I will do anything.”

“You are my best friend, so believe me when I say you don’t want to work this premiere.”

“I will be sure to thank you in my Oscar speech.”

Clara shook her head. “You are so going to regret this.”

Chapter Six

Two hours after her conversation with Jenny, Anna walked into the premiere party, primped and cinched. She felt like the main character in a coming-of-age movie, and this was the obligatory prom scene of the final act.

The dress Jenny had chosen for her was short and black, and it had a confusing mesh situation going on. It was too mafia wife for Anna’s tastes, but she knew she could carry it off. Jenny wouldn’t have liked it otherwise. She just wished Jenny didn’t have such a long memory.

From the outside, these parties always appeared glamorous. Anna’s first big Hollywood premiere had been a glittering, star-studded affair. She and Jenny had gawked at the movie stars with wide-eyed delight. They’d felt like kids given free rein in a toy store that they never dreamed they would be able to afford. Now, though, the gatherings felt like a work conference. Everyone sized each other up, classifying and judging. Were you someone who could get them a job or lose them a job? That was all that mattered—climbing high enough up the ladder that no one could push them back to the bottom on their way to the top.

When did I become so cynical? She shook her head and moved through the crowd. She was here to support Jenny and to talk to Frank Amato. If he hired her to film the new novel he’d optioned, she could turn down the sci-fi pilot.

As Anna searched for the bar, she received a few stares of confused recognition. She knew better than to appear nervous. She needed to behave as if she had three jobs lined up and they were all outbidding each other to get her to accept their offer. She walked through an entire forest that appeared to have been replanted in the center of the ballroom.

A producer from one of her old studios visibly recoiled and turned away when he recognized her. He must be working with Tom. Yeah, I definitely need a drink.

The waitstaff had obviously been corralled into the superhero theme, evidenced by the fact that they were clad in garish spandex. Any excuse to put alluring young people in insufficient clothing. The pinup girls of the 1940s must have felt similarly on display.