Piper’s betrayal hurt. But Cain’s betrayal hurt way more.

He was my friend for ten years. I would’ve taken a bullet for the guy.

And he slept with my girlfriend.

I almost laugh out loud at the cliché of it.

Best friend fucks girlfriend for months under the nose of the boyfriend, and he has no clue.

Happens all the time.

But, when you’re a celebrity, then it’s the juiciest story of the decade. A story that just won’t fucking go away.

To the fans and press, I’m the wounded animal.

Pathetic.

Poor Vaughn.

It’s the pity and apathy that drive me fucking insane.

But no more. Jack’s right.

Arms folded, I lean my back against the window. “So, what do you have in mind?”

Jack smiles. “You have an offer.”

“For what?”

“More like from whom.” His smile widens, making me stand up straighter. “Evans.”

My heart stops. “Brandon Evans?”

“The one and only.”

“Holy fuck.”

Brandon Evans is the hottest director around at the moment. Everyone wants to work with him.

“What’s the movie?”

“The Lament. It’s a gangland thriller. Think Goodfellas 2017.”

“What’s the part?”

“Lead. Drew Asher, heir to the Asher family. It’s a great fucking script. Brandon wrote the part with you in mind.”

“You’re shitting me.” I’m almost breathless. My insides are lighting up like the sky on the Fourth of July. “Did you know?”

He shakes his head. “You know Brandon keeps things tight to his chest. I got the call just last night. There’s no doubt that he wants you for the part, but he has reservations, Vaughn…your recent behavior.”

“I’ll sort it out. Clean up my act.”

My heart is drumming, my pulse thrumming. I feel alive, like I haven’t felt in a long while.

This is the part I’ve been dreaming of. This could take me up to the next step. From the hot movie star to serious actor, like DiCaprio did with his career.

“This could be it, Vaughn,” Jack says, excitement in his voice. “This could put you at the top with no way of ever coming down. I’ll do the work at my end to get rid of the shit the press has been saying about you, but you have to keep your nose clean in the meantime. No more excessive partying, drinking, or screwing around until the film is released.”

“Consider it done.” I pick up the paper with the phone number that the redhead left behind. I crumple it in my hand and toss it in the trash can.

Charly

I’m admiring the gorgeous Fendi hanging from the shoulder of the woman walking in front of me when my cell starts ringing from inside my knockoff Stella McCartney.

I retrieve it from the bottom of my bag, expecting it to be Nick—my roommate and best friend since college—but see that it’s Ava Simms. She’s a friend and colleague. She works wardrobe like I do.

“Yello!” I sing cheerily to her.

I hear her laugh.

“Charly, do you ever answer the phone like a normal person?”

“Why would I when I can answer so colorfully?” I say in a puzzled tone, making her laugh again. “How you doing?” I ask.

“Good,” she says.

But I can tell from her tone that she’s not good at all. We might not be super close, like Nick and I are, but I know her well enough to know when something is wrong. I just hope it isn’t that prick of a so-called boyfriend of hers. The one she moved across the country to be with. Honestly, I can’t imagine leaving New York to move to LA for any guy. Especially not an out-of-work actor who sidelines as a hand model and thinks he’s God’s gift to women.

I don’t know what Ava sees in that guy. Granted, he’s good-looking, but he’s a dick, and she could do a million times better.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Are you still in Nashville?”

Okay. Not the answer I was expecting but whatever.

“Nope. I just landed in JFK.” I smile to myself, looking forward to having the week off that I booked in for myself. I haven’t had any time off in…forever, and even though I’m not rich, I have enough money in the bank to allow myself a week of doing nothing. “I’m actually walking through the airport as we speak, heading to grab a cab home. Why?”

“Well…I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but I landed a job on this big-budget movie, and I’m the wardrobe mistress—”

“Really? Congrats! That’s great, Ava!”

Wardrobe mistress is a promotion for Ava, who was a wardrobe assistant like me. She’s been in the business longer than I have though, so I can’t envy her promotion.

“Well…the thing is, I was wondering if you would want to come and work with me.”

“When?” I have a job lined up in wardrobe on a small Broadway play after my weeklong break, but if it’s after that, then I can do it.

“Well…tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I yell in surprise.

“Yeah, I know it’s short notice—”

“No kidding. Hang on, am I an add-on? Did someone drop out, and you need me to fill in?”

Silence.

I can practically hear her wince.

“Ava?”

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it sound. I knew you were already working up in Nashville on Rollers, so I hired Millie Reed—”