“Sorry I can’t join you,” I called after them. “I’m doing only raw food this week and I brought my lunch in with me. Plus, I have a lot of work to do on the show.” I quickly turned and headed off the set, banging open the exit door as I booked out of there.

I knew the two of them had never looked back. I was invisible.

She was playing it like she didn’t know me, and I couldn’t force the issue because she was working on my show, and her success ensured my success. I felt like the bat had been totally taken out of my hands.

I had been all ready for a fight; I had done the play-by-play in my head.

DANI

Don’t you have anything you’d like to say to me?

CHLOE

Listen, I’m really sorry, Dani, I was really out of line. I threw myself at Dave—I practically put his hand down my pants myself. We’d been drinking, and one thing led to another . . .

DANI

Well, I hope you used a condom. Dave sleeps around more than a rabid coyote, and you never know what he may have crawling around down there.

For months I’d thought of the attack and comeback I would have for both Dave and Chloe, and now that she was here in front of me, I was dismissed like a mosquito that had already been swatted out of sight.

Not trusting my emotions, instead of going back to the office I headed for the sanctuary of wardrobe. I could gossip with Nicole, who handled all the costumes for the show. She usually had a fresh-baked batch of cookies or brownies wrapped in tinfoil on her desk, perfect medicine for my dark mood.

“Hey,” I greeted her, ducking into the double-wide trailer and settling myself on one of the beaded sari cushions that littered the floor next to the racks of clothes.

“Hey, Dani, how are you?” Nicole acted as if it were totally normal for me to drop by wardrobe in the middle of the afternoon. I had interrupted her in the process of steaming costumes on a long metal wardrobe rack. Nicole was waving the steamer with authority over cranky linen and cotton. The steam was making curls spring up around her face, something that would drive most women nuts, but not Nicole. She was working that whole bohemian-chic thing with her look. No professional blow out in a salon for this girl.

“Any brownies?” I asked. There was no need to bullshit with Nicole.

“That good?” she asked, pointing to the lumpy tinfoil package on her desk.

I carefully peeled open the corner, and the aroma of double chocolate brownies instantly soothed me. “How do you bake every night and yet people on the show all still fit into their clothes?”

“I don’t give any to the actors. I just bake for people I like.” She smiled.