Page 2 of Faking It

“Logan.”

“What?” he replies with slight impatience.

“You’re going to give me the lead role in your debut film, right?”

Logan sighs hard and heavy as he moves to my couch. The worn leather creaks under his weight as he drops his athletic body in the middle. “Throw some pants on, Ana. I don’t want you wearing that skirt.”

“Now, who’s changing the subject?” I ask, standing in front of him to block the TV he just turned on. “Am I getting the lead role, or not?”

“Joel and I are having a debate over it,” he replies, throwing up his legs on the center table. “He’s got a few women who are interested in auditioning for the part.”

“You told me that role was mine.” A familiar sensation drops in my stomach.Not again. God, I can’t handle another disappointment.

“And I meant it, babe.” He gives me a reassuring look. “Just be patient. I’ll convince Joel you’re the right fit.”

“There’s no need to convince him. It’s your movie,” I point out.

Logan rises from the couch with an expression that tells me he’s done talking about this. He comes up to me, gently clasping my cheeks. “Here’s the deal, babe. I’ll quit hounding you about that skirt if you drop the issue with Joel’s casting.”

“But I need that role. You know why, Logan.”

“I know.” He kisses my forehead. “And I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you get it, okay?”

His promising smile should relax me, but I’m still on edge. Still, I nod. “Okay.”

He swats my ass as I walk off. The TV blares with the sound of a soccer match as I make my way across the open concept space to make breakfast before I head to work. Entering the kitchenette, I pull the tiny French window open to let in the warm California air, a gentle breeze hitting my face. My cell phone beeps as I put the kettle on, and I see that it’s a notification from ANON, a gossip page I’d been religiously following since they posted a few photos of my trip to Ibiza last year. Getting the spotlight on a page with half a million followers is like a rite of passage, although it did nothing for my career.

Yet.

After sitting on the rickety stool around the narrow kitchen counter, I open the post that caught my attention.

And my mouth flies open.

Diego and Sandra Lopez are Calling it Quits, the headline reads.

After twenty years of marriage, Diego, Hollywood’s number one filmmaker and Sandra, one of the most successful rom-com stars alive, are getting divorced.

Holy crap. They only celebrated their anniversary with a star-studded cruise a week ago! What the hell happened between then and now?

Sitting straighter on the stool, I read on. Based on the post, I’m not the only one riddled with shock. Like me, many thought the power couple would go all the way. We’ve never heard of any fights between them, no cheating scandals, no negativity whatsoever. They made me, a skeptic, believe that true love exists.

That’s not even the half of the reason the entire comment section is buzzing like this, though. A few months ago, they made an announcement that captured the attention of everyone in Tinseltown. If they’re breaking up, will that project still go on?

The whistling kettle prompts me to make my coffee, and I return to the post. After reading through the comments, I continue scrolling for more news on the divorce, but there’s nothing much to see.

I’m about to log off when I spot a photo of a guy leaving a bar, his head half-bent, his dark hair unusually tousled, like someone dragged their fingers through it. I’d bet my last dollar it’s that brunette walking behind him. Based on his reputation, it wouldn’t surprise me if they just got done screwing in the bar’s bathroom. From the way his white shirt looks crumpled, the top buttons undone, I just might be right.

My eyes sweep over the caption. Nope, I was wrong. If I were a betting woman, I’d be even more broke than I already am.

It’s not a sleazy rendezvous in a public bathroom but another bar fight. The fourth this month. Typical Carter. Half his mentions on this gossip page are about his destructive lifestyle, the other half about the women. All brunettes. None lasting for a week.

Ugh, I can’t stand him.

Goddamn nepo baby.

Yeah, I said it. Carter is a rich, entitled bad boy who rose to fame on the coattails of his father’s Oscar-winning success. For years, he capitalized on that opportunity and did so well. He’s never been nominated for any awards, but his action franchises were all blockbusters. All making him filthy rich.

Then he retired.

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