Caz ignored her words.

“Then you gave me that sexy gift,” Caz said. “You got my attention.”

“No. I was being nice. You knowwhat I heard.”

“I don’t know, you never told me. And you weren’t that nice. We never opened the box.”

She was a happy, nonviolent person who now wanted to throw something at his stupid head. “What is this about? Why are you so mad at me?”

“Petra told me.” Caz slurred her name. “She called me because she’s worried.” He jerked a hand toward his discarded phone.

“Told you what?”

He shook the pill bottle and glared. “What’s in this? This bottle?”

“Pills, they’re—”

He didn’t give her time to finish. Throwing the pill bottle onto the floor, he said, “Yours.”

“No. What did Petra tell you?”

“She saw you with the bottle.” Caz pointed at the small prescription bottle. “And I found ’em. You didn’t hide the bottle very well. It was in your bag.”

Ashley gasped. “Petra said she saw me with Olive’s headache pills?”

“You acted so innocent, like you were trying to help me. When you’re the one who used them on me, and she also saw you with Garrett. Everyone saw you with Garrett.” His words were a crazy mix of slurred paranoia and accusation.

Ashley shook her head. “Why would I give you one of Olive’s migraine pills?” She lifted the bottle from the floor and stared at a label that had no meaning to her. “What are these?”

“Those aren’t for headaches.” Caz bit the words out between clenched teeth. “Petra thinks you gave them to Lorene too, so you could take her part.”

Ashley gasped. “You think someone drugged Lorene when she came to set? I thought she was drunk.”

“She was, but maybe she was something more. Petra thinks so.”

“I didn’t do this, whatever it is you’re accusing me of. Why would you believe Petra over me?”

Caz slid away from her on the seat. “I’ve worked with Petra for years. She’s a pain, but she doesn’t use or lie.”

Ashley leaned closer. “I didn’t. I got you out of that party, away from the press.”

“The press was waiting for us. And why were you with Garrett?”

“I wasn’t. You’re not listening to me. You know me, why are you acting like this?”

“I thought I knew you. Of course, I thought I knew my best friend.”

“Wait.” Ashley put a hand on his arm, “I am not like Garrett; I’m not an actor.”

“You’re a liar like him, and I’m not my mother. I’m not going to keep taking you back no matter how bad the crap gets.”

“Take me back? Your mother? What are you talking about now?” Nothing he said made sense.

“Admit it.”

“You know what I admit?”

He stilled, and she looked directly in his face, her eyes burning. “I admit I knew better than to hang out with Hollywood types. You’re overdramatic. You create problems where they don’t exist. And I’m not having this fight while you’re drunk.”

“I had one drink, and then the one you gave me. Petra said you put something in it.” He repeated the accusation and his accent got heavier and his words slurred the more he talked.

Ashley waved a hand toward the window. “I’d never drug anyone. You must like all the attention. You’re the actor. You probably called the press.”

Caz glared in response.

Ashley shook her head at him. “I’ll make it easy. You’re right. Believe Petra.”

The car drew to a stop in front of her dad’s gate. Ashley unlocked the handle before stepping out. “And by the way, no one’s perfect. You should forgive Garrett. If no one can make a mistake around you, you’re going to be pretty lonely.” Ashley slammed her way out of the limo, shutting off the spew of French.

***

By the next day, she’d calmed down. Ashley awakened thinking about Caz, knowing she should have explained better, and made sure he was okay. She rolled out of bed, went for her purse, and dumped it out. The phone rolled onto the beige carport beside her bare feet.

No messages.

Holding tight to the phone, she dialed Caz. He didn’t pick up and she hung up on his outgoing voice message. Ashley stared at the screen a moment then crawled back into the warm sheets. Hugging a pillow to her chest, she went over everything they’d said. With each replay, she thought of how to explain better and what she should have said. Surely, he’d find out the truth and call. She set the phone on her nightstand, trying to compose the perfect message in her mind before dialing again.

A picture of her parents rested on the bedside table. They looked young, scared, and happy in that photo. She reached for her phone again, but grabbed the silver picture frame instead. The love on Mom’s face was painful. Her parents loved each other, but couldn’t stay married. Mom was like her: normal, happy. Dad was drama. He worked in it and thrived on upheaval. They divorced soon after she was born. Sharing a child was an incredible reason to try to stay together, but they knew better. They weren’t compatible.

On set, the process was interesting and exciting, but she really didn’t get it. She had no desire to share her private thoughts with everyone. Film people made exciting friends, but you didn’t date them.

She should never have tried with Caz. She knew better. Caz didn’t trust her and had created this whole fight out of nothing. This was his life. For heaven’s sake, he was an actor.

Ashley sat up. What was she thinking? Being with Caz would never work. She put the frame down and scrambled out of bed, her heart racing, her mind clear. He didn’t need another explanation. She just needed to finish her postproduction work, get this job on her college applications, and in three weeks, go home to the real world.

***

Twenty people sat in the conference room. The only people she recognized were the actors and the assistants. The rest of the postproduction team was new to her.

She and Olive sat in chairs against the wall, and the key players sat at a conference table. The AD went over scheduling and the postproduction plans. Caz wouldn’t meet her gaze. Olive threw speculative looks between them, but Ashley didn’t volunteer any information.

The director gave his welcome and then turned the meeting back over to the AD When the director slipped from the room in the middle of the AD’s speech, Caz got up and followed him. On his way past her chair, he pointed for Ashley to follow.

Great, so this was how it’s going to be? He didn’t even call her PA. He was going to point from now on?

When she reached the corridor, Caz was speaking in a low, intense voice to the director. His arms were crossed over his chest, his feet braced apart. The director held his hands out, palms up.

She reached them in time to hear the last bit of Caz’s sentence.

“It’s either her or me.”

Ashley’s face flooded with heat and her stomach churned.

“Caz, she’s one of the interns who goes back to school in a few weeks. We’ll assign her to another department.”

“I work with all the departments, but I won’t if she’s there.”

Ashley backed up a step. Her mouth opened then closed without words, and she swallowed against her knotting stomach.

The director sighed and looked at her. “You’ve done a good job, but we can’t replace Caz. We’ll put you on another production for the rest of your time.”

Ashley backed up another step and her voice came out high. “No need, I’m going home. Eyes burning, she turned away from them. She wanted to walk out with her head held high, walking slow and proud, but her pace quickened with each step.

Caz got her fired. Now she couldn’t put this job on her college applications. She’d have to tell her mom she got fired, and she’d have to tell Marissa, then she’d have to get a job at the Fry Hut. By the time she reached Dad’s building, she was running. She took the elevator up, rushed straight past his secretary, and reached for his doorknob.

“Ashley, sorry, dear,” his secretary said, “Your dad won’t be back from Zurich until Friday. He’s already left for the airport.”