Whoa. Carly Daniel lowered her banana-razzmatazz-kale smoothie and set it on her white marble kitchen counter in sunny Los Angeles. The man servicing her infinity pool stared at her in her baby blue bikini through the automated open wall between her backyard and kitchen. She turned away from him, killing his view, and stared at her phone’s readout in disbelief. Her agent was calling for the first time in months. She wasn’t calling Alika. Alika was calling her. At long fucking last. She picked up without hesitation, hoping silently for an offer, an audition, anything to get her feeling like she was working again. Alika Moore had been dodging her calls for weeks, so to have her reach out now had Carly’s heart hammering with anticipation.

“Hey, Alika. Just catching some rays.” Carly forced a smile because she knew it would make her sound happier. She always made a point to sound breezy and successful, even though they both knew her career was circling the toilet. “How’s your day?”

“Been busy out there,” Alika said. She had a lot of clients, and Carly was now probably low priority after her star had fallen so publicly. She was lucky her agent hadn’t dropped her altogether. “I’m calling because, wonder of wonders, we have an offer on the table.”

Carly closed her eyes and thanked heaven above. “Tell me it’s Barrow’s latest film. I don’t even mind auditioning for him, which we both know I haven’t had to do in a while. Plus, he loves me, so it would just be a formality.” She and director Jay Barrow had been talking about working together for the past two years, and his new film had the perfect role for her. She’d read the script three times, reveled in the dialogue, the rich characterization, and the fantastic plot twist toward the end that would have audiences talking for weeks. She was ready to report when and where they needed her.

“I called on it already. They passed.”

Carly started to speak and stopped. She turned around and stared at her white cabinets with the glass insets. That didn’t make sense. Jay told her she was a favorite actress of his and he was dying to work with her. “Did you tell them I’d audition? I’ll prove what I have to prove.”

“I told them you’d audition. I told them you’d be in bed every night by eleven. I told them they could have your firstborn. They passed, Carly. They’re all passing, and if we don’t do something to turn this around, this whole hands-off Carly Daniel policy that’s circulating the studio system is going to be permanent.”