“So, it has to be someone on the inside, someone who doesn’t like you. A fan wouldn’t know things that are going to be revealed, and the thief posted that General Sond excerpt before Vance was announced. Starflame!” She gasps and jerks ramrod straight, the color draining from her cheeks. “Right before I shoved Mr. D-Bag out of the booth and poured two malts on him, he told me that Princess Amara doesn’t have happy endings and that I’ll never get a second chance—because he already knew.”

She looks me dead in the eye, and we say together:

“Vance Reigns.”

I push my fries aside, my appetite gone. A waitress comes to take the basket, but Imogen snags one with as little hot sauce as possible and eats it. I say, “It makes sense. No one in Hollywood likes him because he’ll do anything to get ahead. He even pitched a fit on the set of Blades of Valor. His poor PA quit after that. No one likes working for him. He’s hungry for fame. If he frames it so that he finds out I’m the one leaking the script…”

Imogen nods. “That would definitely boost his standing in the Starfield fandom. Girls are already ovulating over him—have you seen the shitposts on Tumblr? Some of those people need to be hosed down they’re so thirsty. And Vance is staying in our hotel. So he could’ve been the one to fish your script out.”

I don’t want to get my hopes up, but my heart is beginning to beat in my ears. It must’ve been Vance. I just didn’t recognize him because I’d never seen him outside of awards shows. I didn’t think he would be a suspect.

But honestly I’m not surprised.

“All right—yeah—okay. So what now?”

“Now,” Imogen says, grabbing her bag and scooting to the edge of the booth, “we have to prove it. What do you say, partner?” She sticks out her hand.

I smile and accept it, and she pulls me to my feet. “This might sound a little weird,” I say, “but I feel like I know you. Aside from the whole we-traded-lives part.”

At that, she smiles widely and says, “Welcome to the fandom life, where you never know anyone but you always know everyone.”

“Like Harper,” I say before I can stop myself. “Which,” I look away in embarrassment, “you might have to explain some things to her. I kind of ran out of the convention when she figured out that I wasn’t…that I’m…And she’s so great and nice and perfect—she didn’t deserve all of the lies I told her.”