Another woman walked up to their group. About Anna’s age, she wore a knockout black dress. Her red hair was tied up in a swirly bun. Anna and her friend could have passed for any of the Hollywood wives at the party. How could the woman he had kissed behind the bar be the same woman standing in front of him? This Anna Kovács probably had a driver and a manservant to carry her shopping bags.

Her friend didn’t spare John a glance. “Anna, you’re in luck. As usual, there’s an open bar.”

John grinned smugly.

Anna scowled.

Her friend glanced between the two of them. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” John and Anna said in unison.

“Sure,” her friend drawled, clearly not believing them. She took a deep breath. “Tom’s here.”

Anna stilled, holding herself so tense, she looked like she might shatter if touched.

“Tom Melton,” her friend said. “Your—”

“I’m familiar, thanks,” Anna said through gritted teeth. “What is he doing here?”

John couldn’t believe her. “He reps the two biggest stars in this picture.”

The two women gaped at him, as if surprised the waitstaff could speak.

John scowled. “I forgot you only make indie pictures. Don’t rely on anyone else.”

Anna’s friend glanced between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

“John,” a voice called out. “I can’t believe you turned down the Viking show.”

Frank Amato strolled over. Wearing the perfect seersucker suit, the producer appeared cool and unruffled, as usual. He had an elegantly folded pale-pink pocket square in his breast pocket. His prematurely gray hair suited him, giving him a distinguished air. Frank had grown up in Queens, but now he spent summers in the Hamptons with A-list celebrities. The older man could befriend anyone on set, from the catering crew to the lead actress to the director.

“You know I’m not really an actor, Frank.”

John had met Frank on the set of a ridiculous fantasy movie. Frank had gotten him recast as a minion with a small speaking role. It’d earned John a SAG card and a decent paycheck, and he hadn’t needed to take another acting role for a few months.

“Would it have killed you? It was a three-episode arc.”

“I’m not that desperate.”

Frank sighed dejectedly. “But if you ever are, you’ll tell me?”

“Good to know giving up my dreams will be worthwhile to someone.”

“That’s how it works.” Frank glanced around at their small group.

“Anna Kovács, since when did you start dressing”—Frank gestured vaguely with his hands—”like you cared?”

John muffled a laugh.

“Always nice to see you too,” Anna said.

Frank kissed her cheek. “Take it as the compliment that it was, Anna.” He turned to the other woman. “Jenny, you did a nice job with the rewrites. I especially liked your car-chase-confession scene.”