Page 4 of The Lion in the Library

She shrugged with the nonchalance of a child who knows everything. “He smiled a lot when you were talking to him.”

“Well, he was just being friendly,” I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams, my little matchmaker.”

After checking on Pedro, who was already fast asleep in his small bed, clutching his favorite toy car, I retreated to the living room of our apartment. It was modest by my previous standards. A two-bedroom unit in a building that had seen better days. But it was clean and safe, and the landlord was a fan of Corazón de Ceniza.

I may not be popular with the Hollywood casting directors yet, but the Mexican population of Southern California were still devastated my character had died in the tragic plane crash, effectively ending the show. Little did they know I demanded the writers kill me off so I could get away from that cheating bastard Jorge.

Good luck ever replacing me, pendejo.

I poured myself a small glass of wine and sat at the kitchen table, spreading out the script for my next day’s shoot. My role in Sunset Boulevard Nights was small. I played the exotic neighbor who occasionally offered cryptic advice to the protagonist—eyeroll. But it was a foot in the door. My agent promised that with time and effort, bigger roles would follow.

I tried to focus on my lines, but my mind kept drifting back to the library, to Leo with his thoughtful eyes and gentle voice. There had been something familiar about him, though I couldn’t place it. Perhaps he resembled an actor I had worked with in the past.

My phone rang, startling me. It was Miguel, my agent.

“Estrella, querida,” he greeted me, his voice overly cheerful, which immediately put me on guard. “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” I replied cautiously. “Luz likes her new school, and I got Pedro into a preschool. I’m managing the commute to the studio.”

“Excellent, excellent. Listen, I have some news. The producer called me about your role.”

I tensed. In my experience, such conversations rarely led to good news.

“They love your look, your energy,” he continued, “but they’re concerned about...”

“My accent,” I finished for him, the familiar frustration rising.

“Sí, your accent. They’ve suggested some intensive coaching. I know a fantastic dialect coach who has worked with many Latin actors. She can start tomorrow.”

I closed my eyes, counting to ten silently in Spanish, then English. “Miguel, I’m already attending an English conversation club at the library. And I’m working on it with the voice exercises you sent.”

“I know, I know, and that’s wonderful. But this is Hollywood, Estrella. Everything moves fast. If you want to succeed here, you need to be adaptable.”

I wanted to argue, to remind him that in Mexico, I had been a star, that my distinctive voice had been part of my appeal. But I thought of Luz and Pedro, of the life I wanted to build for them here, away from the scandals and heartbreak that had followed me in Mexico City.

“Fine,” I relented. “Send me her information.”

After hanging up, I stared at my script, the English words swimming before my tired eyes. I had always prided myself on my resilience, on my ability to reinvent myself after each setback. First husband leaves me for a young starlet? I threw myself into my career and became the most sought-after actress in Mexican television. Second husband betrays me with my staff? I packed up my life and move to a new country.

But sometimes, in quiet moments like this, I wondered how many times I could rebuild myself before there was nothing left of the original Stella.

A soft knock at my bedroom door interrupted my melancholy thoughts.

“Mami?” Luz’s small voice called. “I can’t sleep.”

I set aside my script and opened my arms. “Come here, mi corazón.”

She climbed onto my lap, her small body warm against mine. “Can you tell me a story? Like the one at the library?”

I smoothed her hair, thinking. “Once upon a time,” I began, my accent thick but my words sincere, “there was a beautiful star who fell from the sky. She was incredibly sad because she missed her home among the other stars. But then she discovered something wonderful about Earth...”

“What?” Luz asked, her eyes wide.

“That even when you can’t see the other stars, they’re still there, shining just for you. And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, you find new stars to light your way.”

As Luz drifted to sleep in my arms, I found myself thinking of hazel eyes behind thick-framed glasses, and wondering if, perhaps, I had found a new star in this vast, unfamiliar sky.

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