“There are rumors Caitlyn went to a lawyer to sue the producers for a hostile work environment. And there are other rumors—some say they were started by Ted and Holly—that she was difficult to work with.”

“Difficult?”

“Supposedly she was in love with Nick, and when he rejected her, she provoked him into that fight.”

“Oh, come on. She provoked her costar into calling her a frigid, humorless bitch in front of the entire crew? That’s really what people think successful women are up to these days? Somebody explain the logic of that.”

“I was hoping to.”

Holly wasn’t that petty, was she? Phoebe tried to square the Holly she’d seen this morning, speechmaking on behalf of Genders United, with those Hollywood housewives from reality TV who were always starting drama to stay relevant. But Holly was already relevant, a beloved fixture of this town.

“So, talk to Caitlyn Alvarez,” Phoebe said. “There’s your story.”

“I tried. She signed NDAs, with Silvertown and Stabler Studios, which means, number one, she can’t talk, and number two, they’re hiding something. Look, Jerry is a monster, but we all know he’s not the only powerful man with dirt on his hands. He’s taking the fall for things they’re all guilty of—maybe not rape, but sexual harassment, blackballing, labor violations.”

Phoebe knew that Ted had left her hanging out to dry twenty years ago, powerless to reclaim her place in an industry that Jerry and his lawyers patrolled like gangsters. But was he really guilty of what Rona was claiming—not just indifference, but something more deliberate? Was Holly?

“All right, I’ll help you,” Phoebe said, “but I need your help, too. I need you to get me a ticket to the party at the Stabler estate tonight.”

“I’ll be there for work. Serafina’s covering it. I’ll figure something out—consider it done.”

“Okay. You want to get to Ted? Just rattle his cage,” Phoebe said. “Start with Holly. She’s a champion of women, isn’t she? Ask her what she thinks about her husband’s history with Jerry Silver.”

11

Holly

In the car on the way to the marina, Holly and Flynn sat like two swans worrying their feathers, necks craned down and noses tucked into their phones.

“Before you go, you should know something,” Erin had said to Holly as they headed down to the garage, and then she’d stopped, rocking from one foot to the other like she needed to pee.

“Well?” Holly asked. She was late and grouchy and she didn’t have time for Erin’s delicacy.

“The job posting for Ted’s chief of staff, to replace Dawn. Somehow InsideScoop got it, and it went viral.”

“What’s InsideScoop?”