Penny pauses. I shift, my pen tumbling next to me. I don’t really need my notebook. It’s not like there’s anything to write down. It’s impossible for me to forget what happened to Julia and Penny. For some reason, I can remember their stories while forcing myself to forget my own.
“But it did, though,” she finally says. “That’s what your text was about.”
I hold in a sigh. Part of me recognizes that Lennox hurting her and Ryan King hurting me are similar. But it still feels wrong, almost disrespectful, to call them the same.
“I mean,” I say, “yeah, but not really. It’s not like it’s, like…It’s not a real thing.”
“What?” Her eyes snap up. “What’s a real thing?”
“I don’t know.” My shoulders tense. “Like. It was in middle school. It was—I don’t know. A boy being stupid.”
Penny stares at me for a long time. My face burns under the attention.
“You know that’s not true,” she says. “I don’t have to tell you that.”
I stare down at my lap.
“It’s…” She sighs. “What happened to Julia was worse than what happened to me, if you want to put it that way. But it happened to both of us. He did things to both of us. It’s not—it’s not like it’s a contest. You don’t have to hit a certain amount of points to be included. Do you know what I’m trying to say?”
Sort of. It feels ridiculous to include myself with Penny and Julia, but I get what she means.
“I get it,” I say. “But it’s just different. I don’t know. It’s different when it’s someone who can make or break your career with the snap of his fingers. For me, it was just a shitty kid I went to school with. It wasn’t the same for you.”
“Yeah,” Penny says, voice soft. “That’s true.”
“I just kind of don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I say. “Let’s, um, just talk about the story. Can we do that?”
“Sure,” Penny says, but her expression is sour, like she drank bad milk. “We probably should anyway, because I spoke to someone and they said they might be here.”
“They might?” I rub my temples. “Penny, you have to stop doing this to me. You can’t just spring people on me at the last second.”
A waiter comes over, dropping off our food. Penny goes silent. I didn’t even pay attention to what I was ordering, but now I see that it’s some sort of fancy salad, full of leafy greens and bright fruit.
“I’m sorry,” Penny says, looking at her plate. “I’m not doing it on purpose. Eve answered last-minute, and then Julia could only talk that one afternoon—”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “Who is Eve?”
Penny spears some salad with her fork.
“Penny?”
“Cassidy.” Penny finally looks sheepish. “Eve Cassidy.”
My eyes go wide. Eve Cassidy is hard enough to get normal interviews with. It’s not surprising, since she’s a member of one of the most famous families in Hollywood. James Cassidy and Alexandra Taylor, her parents, have at least two Oscars each. Eve has one of her own and a few nominations to go with it. I haven’t seen her around in a few years, though. The last movie she worked on was a Roy Lennox project.
I’m pretty sure she only talks to big publications, reporters with degrees and experience. I have so many questions—does she know that this is a freelance piece, that we don’t have a publication yet? Does she even know who she’ll be talking to?
“Don’t worry,” Penny says, watching my hands on the table. “She’s really nice. At least, she’s always been to me when I run into her.”
Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better. I’m sure rich celebrities are always nice to each other. That doesn’t mean Eve will be nice to me. I don’t even need her to be nice. I need to be able to talk to her without messing everything up before it’s even started.
“It’s just a lot,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “I’m just thinking…if we’re going to do—I don’t know—five more women, let’s say, there’s going to be so much stuff to write. If we can get this published, we probably need to do it as a series. It might be too overwhelming if it’s all there for people to read at once.”
“I understand.” Penny takes a bite of her salad, talking around her food. “We should start thinking of places to pitch to. Maybe I can ask around for some help.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I can ask Deep Focus.”
It’d be weird to pitch such a huge magazine, but I already won their contest, so they must think I have at least some talent.
“Maybe,” she says. “You’re such a good writer. I’m sure everyone will want to publish it.”
A couple a few tables away laughs loudly. I try not to stare, but it’s hard. They look so happy. I wish that were me right now.
“I don’t know. It’s not exactly something that people normally like to read,” I say. “What if we got everyone to talk and no one reads it? Or people read it but then Lennox calls lawyers or something?”
“If he gets lawyers involved, he’s practically admitting his guilt.” Her face blanches and she swallows. “It won’t just be me or Julia. If there’s a group of us, they can’t say we’re all lying.”
I know that. She knows that. But it won’t matter if people don’t want to listen.
My hands grip the inside of my jacket. It’s all too much. I force my eyes shut, taking deep breaths. It’s okay. I’m okay. Penny is right. Everything is going to be fine.
I reach for my water glass, draining it in one go.
“Hey,” Penny says, glancing toward the door. “Eve is here.”
I turn my head. Eve Cassidy is beautiful in real life, even more beautiful standing against the watercolor mural. Most famous people look different on-screen, but she looks exactly the same as she does in
