Page 6 of Wicked Fortune

“And?” I twirl my hand when she pauses to take another sip of coffee.

“I don’t remember exactly, but Damien was asking about the cost/benefit, and Matthew said the parties were worth the cost. That the value lay in community involvement, brand loyalty, and all that.”

“That’s it?”

“And that they usually pull a dozen or so guests for screen tests. I got the feeling the parties populated a nice roster of extras, but rarely found a star.”

“Sounds like a lot of work and money for little return,” I say.

“I know, right? But Matthew’s worth almost as much as Damien, so I figure he knows what he’s doing.”

“Guess so.” I frown, thinking. “I wonder how Jenny got invited. For that matter, I wonder what goes on at the parties themselves.”

“Oh, I know all that,” Bree says. “I remember her first one. It was right after she did that play in West Hollywood. Someone from Hardline saw her in the show and gave her an invitation.”

I nod. “Oh, yeah. I do remember that.”

“And she loved the parties from the get-go. Said they were a great place to meet other actors and learn about casting calls and acting coaches and all that stuff. I know she got some work as a background actor at Hardline and somewhere else. Disney, maybe? And she landed lots of auditions. And the alien guy said she might be right for some roles they were casting in London.”

“Alien guy?”

Bree shrugs. “I just remember his initials. E.T.”

I laugh. “Who says mnemonics don’t work? Oh!” I add, remembering. “She also landed the lead in that other play. No connection to Hardline, but she met someone at one of the parties who knew the director, and she landed the part.”

“It was all about the networking,” Bree says.

“Except it never really went anywhere, did it?” I draw in a breath, then let it out slowly. “I mean, she really worked those parties. Talked to folks, made connections. If the world was fair, I would have thought she’d be Margot Robbie by now.”

Bree frowns, then stares down into her coffee before saying, “Maybe that’s why she did it. Jumped, I mean. Because she wasn’t Margot.”

Margot. There’s a casualness to her voice, and I gape at her. “Oh. My. God. You know Margot Robbie.”

A slow blush rises up her cheeks. “Matthew and Carson and I took her to brunch when we were casting Reveries at Dusk.”

“Oh, well, of course you did.” Bree’s first book was optioned by Carson Donnelly, a producer/director who then took the project to Hardline. To say my life is becoming less and less like Bree’s by the minute is an understatement.

Bree waves her hand as if her success is so much fluff. I’m tempted to lecture her—again—about how she needs to stop with the it’s nothing attitude, because it is so not nothing. But right now it’s All About Jenny time, not All About Bree.

“I think you’re right in a way,” Bree continues. “The slog was getting to her. She was expecting high school all over again. Instant stardom.”

“I get it. She really did think she’d be Margot Robbie. And she was expecting it to happen overnight.”

“That’s my take,” Bree says. “If she really believed it would come so easily, then maybe she snapped and⁠—”

“No,” I blurt. “No matter how much she wanted it, she didn’t melt down. I already told you. Someone from one of those parties killed her.”

Bree groans, then pulls her bare feet up onto the sofa and hugs her knees. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s say you’re right. Who? And why?”

I shrug. “Maybe something funky was going on. Drugs? Money laundering? And maybe she figured it out. That casting director doing something dirty? Or a producer? Hell, I don’t know. I saw a picture of her with Matthew Holt at one of those meet-and-greets. She told me he hardly ever goes to those—the team who actually put them together thinks having him there could intimidate the guests.”

Bree’s brows rise. “You’re saying Matthew went especially to one so he could kill Jenny? No way. Matthew’s cool,” she adds, offering an assessment that’s a long way from my very heated thoughts about the man. “He’s nice, too,” she tells me. “After you get past the hard outer shell, anyway. I’ll re-introduce you one of these days, and you’ll see. Besides, why would he do that?”

My mind is still on the I’ll re-introduce you part. Then I blink, as I realize I’ve totally lost the train of the conversation. “Why would he do what?”

She presses two fingers to her forehead, just above her nose. “Kill Jenny.”

Right. I clear my throat. “Sorry. I was thinking. But that’s the point. I don’t know. And I want to find out. And as for him being a nice guy, how many folks did you believe were perfectly nice, only to learn the truth in the worst possible way?”