Phoebe headed for the doors that would take her back inside, where she could lock herself in the bathroom or disappear in a crowded auditorium, but that impulse to hide sickened her. Instead, she turned down the path toward the caterers’ staging tent. She peered inside the tent, scanning the waiters and the chafing dishes for a way out. It was dark and hot and smelled like chicken. There was no way through it so she looked for a way around. There—a little gap between the bamboo stands that covered the space between the tent and the fence. She slipped through, and then she was free on the other side.

I am a bird. A broad-winged raptor with telescopes for eyes.

She rejoined the path, and soon there were little signs telling her which way to go for the Commissary, Stage 3, Stage 4, Wardrobe, Backlot. Which one would take her to Ted?

Fuck Ted, hiding behind his colossal success while she was out here alone, fighting for a film nobody but her wanted. So many times, in the years since she’d left LA, she’d come close to making Warrior Bride, but at the last minute the deal always fell through. Phoebe didn’t have enough experience behind the camera, she didn’t have a bankable star, the production budget was too high, the script was too long, the male lead didn’t have enough lines, there was no love story, it was too soon for another Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, the story was too female, too Asian, not Chinese enough, not Japanese enough, they really wanted to but they were sorry, they just couldn’t, not this year. It happened too often to be a simple misread of the zeitgeist—too many promising meetings and then suddenly she was ghosted. One time, at lunch with a producer on the patio of the Ivy, she was sure she was being watched. When a week later that producer told her over email that he was moving to Silvertown and that his slate would be full for the foreseeable future, Phoebe understood that her film career would never take flight as long as Jerry Silver was alive. She picked up the application for her master’s program in education the next day.

Phoebe spotted signs now for Administration and Chairman’s Office and bore right. She was deep into the lot now. Golf carts zipped by on their way to the hangar-housed productions of America’s favorite franchises. Marina del Mayhem. He’s the Teacher? Dogtective 3: Triple Threat.

I am a bird on the hunt. My talons are sharp. My beak can tear flesh.