“I need this shoot to go smoothly.” John ran a hand through his hair. “Please tell me it isn’t one of those guys who talk about mise-en-scène and their favorite French actress.”

“Mise-en-scène is an important concept that has been co-opted by those guys.” She sighed. “Look, I’d love to talk film school vocab and gender roles with you, but we’ve got other things to do. I need your help with the table read.”

“That’s a good idea.” The director had to be somewhat competent if they were doing a live read of the new script in order to hit a restart button on the whole shoot.

The woman rolled her eyes.

“Oh shit,” he said. She was Anna’s friend from the premiere, Jenny Hayes. She was still a knockout, but in a more low-key way in her jeans and the Scooby-Doo T-shirt. John could appreciate a classic. Hell, she must have done the rewrites. There was no way Anna would be here. There was no way she would take a job from her ex-husband, not after her protestations at the premiere. Right?

Jenny kept talking, but John’s thoughts of his last interaction with Anna swirled in his brain.

“—Reed Rutherford—”

“He’s on this shoot?” John interrupted.

The actor’s on-set antics were legendary. It was going to be John’s responsibility to make sure Rutherford got to set on time each morning. That was not going to be easy. Great.

“It’s a trial for all of us.” Jenny frowned. “But we’ll make it through.”

John sighed, wishing he’d had more sleep before this conversation. “You need me to get him out of his trailer for the table read?”

“Yeah. You’ve done this before?”

“I can handle him.”

Jenny’s eyes grew wide. “You’re an AD, for reals? This shoot is going to be a mess, and the director can be challenging...” Jenny had a contemplative look on her face. “Do I know you?”

That was a revelation to be saved for another day.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

Jenny quirked her lips in thought. “If Reed’s late, there’s going to be a fight. He broke my heart, you know. But that’s my cross to bear.”

“Right.” John rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Go to Reed’s trailer and make sure he’s out here for this read-through.” Jenny narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”

“We haven’t.” Technically. “I’ll get him.”

Jenny frowned.

John didn’t want to have this conversation. He turned and crossed the lot to Reed Rutherford’s trailer.

In his midforties, Rutherford was long past the early promise of his career. John knocked on the trailer’s door. No response. He tried the door handle. Shutting his eyes at what he might find, he knocked loudly and opened the door wider.