Page 82 of Cast to be Mine

“And you will. Grace, listen to me. In five years, nobody is going to remember any of this Jack nonsense. But they will remember your name. They’ll remember the performances you gave. This is just the door opening. What you do once you walk through it—that’s what matters.”

“I specifically used a stage name so people would judge me on my talent,” I pressed. “Not my father’s reputation. Not some fake scandal. My work.”

“And they will. I promise you, they will.” Loretta’s voice softened. “But right now, the world is paying attention. That’s half the battle in this industry. Getting people to look. Once they’re looking, you show them what you’ve got. And sweetheart, what you’ve got is going to blow them away.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know, Loretta.”

“Trust me,” she said firmly. “I’ve been doing this for thirty years. I know how the game works. You ride this wave, you deliver an incredible performance in Breathless, and by this time next year, you’ll have your pick of projects. The Jack stuff will be a footnote. A funny story you tell on talk shows.”

I wanted to believe her. I really did.

“Just trust me,” she repeated. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I said finally. “I trust you.”

“That’s my girl. Now go knock ‘em dead today. And call me the second you wrap. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

She hung up. I sat there in the silence of my trailer and tried to figure out the impossible situation I’d gotten myself into. I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t trying to manage my career. Someone who would just be real with me.

I pulled up Becky’s contact and hit call.

She answered on the second ring. “Oh my God, finally! I’ve been dying over here. Your little texts here and there are not satisfying my need for details. Spill everything.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” I said.

“I’ve been watching this Jack Montana thing blow up all over the internet and you’ve been radio silent. What the hell is going on? Did you actually kiss him?”

“No! God, no.” I flopped back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I would never. He’s married. You know me better than that.”

“I thought I did, but then I saw those photos and I was like, who is this woman? Because the Grace I know wouldn’t touch a married man with a ten-foot pole.”

“Can I tell you something?” I asked. “And you have to swear not to say a word.”

“Tell me!”

“It wasn’t me in those photos.”

“What?”

“It was Chantilly. Jack’s wife.” I explained the whole ridiculous situation—the kiss scene, Chantilly’s jealousy, the wig, the paparazzi catching them in the parking lot and assuming it was me.

“They’re just staying quiet because they’re attention vampires. They love that people are talking about them, even if it’s negative. More followers, more engagement, more whatever the hell they care about.”

Becky was quiet for a moment. “That is actually insane. But also kind of genius? In a deeply fucked up way?”

“Tell me about it.”

“So you’re just letting everyone think you’re a homewrecker for the sake of clicks?”

“The studio wants us to ride it out. Says it’s good publicity for the movie.” I sighed. “Loretta thinks it’s opening doors for me. She’s probably right. But it feels gross.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Becky paused. “But if it’s not true, and everyone will eventually find out it’s not true, then maybe it’s not the worst thing? Like, you’re not actually hurting anyone.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“It feels shady,” I said.