With a sigh, the older woman picked up the phone.

Anna surveyed the reception area while she waited. A dying, yellowed plant leaned precariously against the beige wall. She sat in one of the uncomfortable white chairs and picked up an entertainment magazine two years out of date.

“This way.” The receptionist gestured for Anna to follow and led her down a narrow beige hallway to an open door.

Anna walked into a generic conference room with an oblong table and mismatched office chairs, probably identical to every other conference room in the industrial business park in Burbank. The view from the second-floor window presided over the flat expanse of repeated parking lots, where rows upon rows of cars waited to take their owners home at the end of the day.

“I’m telling you, dude,” said a man in his midtwenties, running a hand through his blond hair. He sat in a leather chair at the head of the table, with his feet resting on the top, the soles of his shoes marring the finish. “I can’t believe he called me. It was unreal.”

He waved at Anna to sit down.

She sat. All she needed out of this meeting was a signed contract.

The man finished his call with a shake of his head at whatever incredulous encounter he had been retelling. “Well, Ms. Kovács, thanks for—”

Anna’s phone rang, and the executive pursed his lips. She got so few calls that she rarely turned off the ringer.

Anna checked the screen. Jenny wouldn’t call unless it was important. “Sorry, I’m just going to—”

Anna stood up from the chair and walked to the window. If this producer could keep her waiting for a few minutes, then she could do the same.

“Don’t take the TV job,” Jenny said.

“I’m in the meeting.” Anna glanced up at the producer, but he was scrolling through his phone, unable to hear Jenny.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Jenny asked.

Chapter Ten

At the window, Anna stared at the blue sky shooting off into the distance, seemingly without end. She had loved Los Angeles when she and Jenny moved there after dropping out of college. She hadn’t missed the fog or the damp of San Francisco. The constant sunshine of Southern California didn’t feel oppressive. It felt like a promise of something good to come.

“Bad news, always.”

The promise felt long gone. Now Anna just felt lonely. Lonely like sleeping on a pullout couch in a friend’s apartment. Lonely like calling for a car she couldn’t afford after storming out of a premiere party. Lonely like spending her weekend indoors when no one would return her calls.