Page 74 of Beyond the Bright Lights

You wouldn’t let him help.

“What’s your problem?” Michelle asks. She's in the chair beside me as the other stylist, Farlan, works on her hair. They style Michelle’s hair into a high ponytail with a bow—like Lana used to wear in all those pictures I saw of her when she was younger.

Lana.

Fuck she’s going to hate me after speaking to Jensen.

“Nothing. Mind your business.”

Chelle snorts at me. “It’s that woman, isn’t it?”

That woman? I stifle a snarl and ignore her. My silence only infuriates her, and she keeps talking.

“What’s so special about her anyway? She’s old and fat.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I say, this time letting that snarl lash out at her. Jesus. What did I ever see in this vile human? I briefly dated Chelle about five years ago after we worked on a Netflix rom-com together—her first movie crossing over from model to actress. Our relationship lasted a month before I realized she’s simple-minded and pathetic.

“All done,” Mary announces. I jump up from the seat and exit the trailer without a word, leaving a stunned Chelle behind. If I stayed another minute, I would have said something worse to her.

I should tell Lana about my history with Michelle.

My head isn’t where it needs to be, which is ironic since this is exactly what my manager warned me about. Tony was pissed after seeing the pictures from the lake and finding out our relationship had turned into more. He sees Lana as a distraction and advised me to end things immediately, but to me, she’s my guide. She’s keeping me on the straight and narrow. I even went as far as confessing my first night in Arkansas, at the bar ordering drinks, and how Lana was the one to convince me to stop. Tony eventually backed off. He can advise me all he wants but, in the end, I’m still his boss.

After a brief stop in makeup, I follow the signs to wardrobe. Bruno and Eloise trail behind. Eloise, who doesn’t typically come to set, is only here to snap photos of my first day filming for social media. Bruno technically doesn’t need to be here either. The production company hired enough security guards, but ever since a fan managed to sneak on the set of one of my films years ago and attacked me with adoring hugs and unwanted kisses, Bruno stays by my side.

By the time I return to set, we only have a few minutes until filming starts. I find Lana sitting in a director’s chair placed along a row of red lockers, and a Barbie doll type woman sitting next to her.

Shit. That must be Rebecca Taylor.

As I approach, Lana laughs at whatever Rebecca had just said. She spots me and does a double take. Her face drops from smiling to gaping. Rebecca follows her stare and her demeanor changes, copying Lana’s.

“Mylan?” Lana whispers. I stop in front of her, taking her cheek in my palm. She grabs my wrist and closes her eyes, forcing a tear to fall. I wipe it away with my thumb.

“Holy shit,” Rebecca murmurs, pulling my gaze away from Lana. “You, uh, you look like Tyler.”

I do? Lana said I looked nothing like him. Though, I suppose with my lighter hair, combed to how Tyler used to style it, and dressed in similar clothes he used to wear . . .

Lana clears her throat. “Yeah, but only at first glance.” She manages to return that contagious smile of hers. She removes my hand from her cheek and kisses my palm. “So what scene are you filming today?”

“The day Tyler got his scholarship.”

Lana flinches. It’s brief. If I hadn’t been staring at her, and I'm always staring at her because I’m obsessed, I wouldn’t have caught it.

“This month, we’re shooting all the high school scenes and scenes around town. There will also be a week of production on flashbacks from when you and Tyler were young, including when you two met.”

Lana told me how she met Tyler at the cliffs but the part about him pushing her into the water wasn’t included in the movie script.

“What happens after you’re done filming all those scenes?”

“Then we’ll film on location in Jonesboro at the college.”

“You’re going to be leaving Silo?”

Shit. I haven’t talked to Lana about this yet. We’ll be there for the last two months. I was planning to ask her to come with me.

“I assumed you knew.”

“I guess I didn’t think about it, but it makes sense.” She shrugs but I can tell she’s . . . not pissed but sad maybe? Disappointed? “It’s for the best. I wasn’t going to be able to come to set every day for three months anyway.”

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