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“I think they meant that in a good way.”
“How is George going to fund the movie?”
“Crowdfunding,” Lydia answered promptly. “He’s already raised $8,006.”
“That might be enough for one day of filming.” Elizabeth didn’t want her sister to pin her dreams on the success of this venture. “What does Mom think of this plan?”
“She loves the script.”
Oh Lord, the thing must be horrible.
“You know, you could be more supportive.” Lydia glared, hands on her hips. “It’s not like I piss all over your dreams. I don’t say, ‘You’re going to be a doctor? I bet you’ll kill all your patients.’”
“I’m sorry, honey.” Elizabeth sighed. Lydia wasn’t wrong. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. Most Hollywood projects don’t go anywhere.”
“I know that!” Lydia waved away the objection. “But this screenplay is brilliant. They just have to make it!”
“Okay,” Elizabeth said dubiously.
Lydia gave her a resentful side eye. “Sure, stomp all over my dreams, why don’t you?”
“I—”
“I hope all your patients die of syphilis!”
Before Elizabeth could respond, Roberta called, “Cut and print!”
Lydia dashed onto the set, throwing her arms around George. “You were great! You were so extra! You were the extra extra!”
Watching her sister, Elizabeth supposed some lessons had to be learned the hard way.
***
“Who are you bringing to the premiere of The Ice Queen’s Castle?” Roy, Darcy’s manager, asked.
Instantly Darcy pictured Elizabeth in her purple sundress. He tried to push the image aside, failing to recall the names of the various famous or semi-famous actresses Roy had suggested the last time they’d talked.
Darcy switched the phone to his other ear and paced the length of his trailer. Thank God he had privacy for these kinds of conversations. “I don’t know. Who did we talk about?” He didn’t want to attend at all; the movie was sure to be deadly dull. But he was friendly with several of the stars, and it would be a huge media event. It was a place he needed to be seen.
“Maria Martinez. She’s gotten a lot of buzz for the Z is for Zombie movies. She has a great scream.”
Just what I want in a date. “Who else?”
“Anna Stein. She’s well known for her killer legs and great rack.”
Darcy ran a hand through his hair. I went to Yale Drama School for this?
“Michelle Otaski. Do you remember that really sultry commercial for Green Shores Bank?”
“No.” No doubt he’d suppress any memory of a banking ad that tried to be sexy.
“She was also a singer on Who Stank the Worst? The blonde with a silver sequined dress.”
“Oh yeah.” Darcy had seen clips from the reality show on the internet.
He’d been filming for hours, but it was still morning. Too early for this kind of conversation. Darcy swung himself into an easy chair and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. He could picture the women in his mind. Each one was beautiful and poised—would look great on his arm and would be thrilled to be there. Nobody would question why he was dating any one of them.
Of course, there were drawbacks, which Roy had explained in detail. Maria had a serious boyfriend. Anna would undoubtedly talk crap about Darcy behind his back. Michelle regarded everyone with the haughty stare of the model she used to be, even though everyone in the world knew she sang like a frog gargling lava.
