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Prosecution: Roman Tate—Eliza’s husband—invited you to the party?
Penny Sands: That’s what I said.
Prosecution: So you met Eliza Tate via her husband?
Defense: Objection. Already stated.
Prosecution: I’ll move on, Your Honor.
The Court: Very well.
Prosecution: Ms. Sands, when did you know that you were in love with Roman Tate?
TWO
Nine Months Before
May 2018
Penny Sands sat on the bus, eyes peeled wide, feeling much smaller than her 124 pounds. At five feet six inches tall, she was taller than the average woman and quite pretty, if she said so herself.
She felt much younger than her twenty-six years of age as the bus rolled its way into Los Angeles. She tried to take in everything— every honk from angry cars as they cruised in and out of traffic lanes, every closed-down, boarded-up, and graffitied shop, every overflowing garbage can.
The slightest bit of confusion flooded through her. A hint of panic. Barely discernible but definitely there. Surely, the Hollywood sign was hiding out of sight, just waiting to peep over the next overpriced gas station.
The beautiful people and movie stars, they’d be just around the next corner. On Rodeo Drive, probably. The bus just hadn’t made the correct turns yet. The glitz and glamour and hopefulness were tucked out of sight, waiting to be discovered by eager new hands. They must be.
“First time here?” The man in front of Penny turned and gave her a lopsided smile. “I can tell by that starry look in your eyes that you’re new to the area. By the way, name’s Kurt.”
“Oh.” Penny stifled a laugh. “Hi, Kurt. I’m Penny. And I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”
“Where you from?”
“A small town in Iowa. I’m sure you don’t know it.”
“Des Moines?”
She gave a faint smile. “Close enough. What about you? Are you from the area?”
“Nobody’s from LA originally.” Kurt smiled again, though it looked strange. It didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re all a mix from everywhere else. But I’m considered as much of a local as anyone now, been here twenty years. You moving here to be an actress?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You look like an actress.”
“Well, thanks…I guess. But I also like to write. I thought about screenwriting while I’m out here or even producing. One day, I’d love to direct. Actually, back home, I worked for the local paper,” Penny said proudly. She’d graduated summa cum laude with an English degree from Iowa State and had nabbed one of the few writerly jobs available in her town. “In fact, the reason I’m here at all is because of a book.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”
“Why would it sound stupid?”
“It’s sort of self-helpy,” she said. “Anyhow, the author got me thinking, and I realized that I wanted more. I wanted something big, something huge. And I couldn’t have that in Boone, Iowa.”
“No, you most certainly couldn’t,” Kurt said. “Where will you be living?”
Penny frowned, glanced down at the slip of paper that had grown somewhat sweaty in her palm. “An apartment near…this street?”
