The hollowing expanded through Tonya’s body. She was being scooped out from the inside, reduced to a shell to be filled up with whatever others gave her. Whatever Nate had given her.

“We met in a park,” Mike continued. “I got right to it, told her that her director husband was cheating on her and abusing his power, pressuring young actresses that I knew into sex acts and stuff under the guise of auditioning, implying that their compliance would show how far they were willing to go and help them land parts in his films.”

The bachelor pad blurred before Tonya’s eyes, becoming a different room. Its lights lowered to a candle’s glow. Chocolate-leather chairs appeared in front of overbearing bookcases decorated with tomes chosen for their colors rather than content. She saw Nate leaning back in a barrel chair, face lit by a reading lamp and the glowing end of a cigar. She heard the doors close as the waiter exited, emphasizing that the hotel bar’s back room was truly private. They could do whatever they wanted. Whatever Nate and his friend wanted.

“Your audition starts now.” His voice was deep and rumbling, distant thunder in the dark. There was power in it. Threats. “You’re playing the part of a waitress attracted to the brooding, wealthy man in the corner.”

“What’s my line?” she asked.

“Improvise.”

She strutted to the couch, palm in the air to balance an invisible tray. She lowered it and then plucked the pretend stem of a martini glass from space, placing it on the table beside him. “Your gimlet.” She offered a wide smile. “Is there anything else you’d like, or will that be all for the moment?”

She punctuated the question with a flick of tongue against bottom lip. Her character was supposed to be flirting.

“What else is on the menu?”

“The kitchen’s open,” she cooed. “Are you in the mood for salty or sweet?”

Behind her, the friend laughed at the line. Nate didn’t seem to find it as funny. He sat back in the chair and examined her as if looking at a handsome sweater that he’d just noticed had pulls in the fabric. His smile twisted into a frown. “I don’t believe you.”

An actress couldn’t receive a worse note. The job was to embody a part, to lose oneself within a character’s skin. How was she failing? The part wasn’t a stretch. She was a waitress in real life, after all.

“What am I doing wrong?”

“I don’t believe you want me.” Nate’s eyes narrowed. “Make me believe it.”