Page 2 of Every Star that Shines

“Fun as it would be to have you on set, I think your skills are put to better use in the editing room. And you can wear whatever you want there.” She gave a sideways look at her friend.

“Actually,” said Desmond, putting his hand to his chin in mock pensiveness, “being your bodyguard might be more fun than being an editor. I’d get to be around people all day. We could play UNO in your trailer while we wait for the lighting techs to set the stage for your next shot. I would get to eat the food, right?” He patted his belly, obviously thinking of the generous spreads that were usually available twenty-four-seven for the cast and crew to graze from. “And would we get to talk to the extras during breaks?”

Marie shook her head. “You’d be on high alert, I see.”

“I would.” Desmond grinned at her. “For crab cakes and pretty girls.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Delanie’s face grew warm. “I mean, this role as Maryanne is a start, but I won’t be at bodyguard-level fame anytime soon. I’d be happy if I just started making rent regularly.”

“I’d be happy about that too.” Marie arched a brow at Delanie, but her grin belied the sarcasm.

Delanie smiled back. She and Marie had been roommates since their second year of film school, and over the past nine years, Marie had often pitched in for more than her fair share of the expenses. Not for some time, though—not since Delanie’s YouTube channel had started paying a few of her bills and a bit more. For the last year, her supporters had helped carry her through when callbacks had been few and far between and tips from her waitressing job had been sparse. Sometimes, knowing she had a community of fans that believed in her enough to give her even a part-time income—on top of what she paid Marie and Desmond to help her produce her videos—still blew her away.

Of course, now she’d be able to pay for a lot more than a couple of bills. Maybe she’d even get to go home to Peace Crossing to visit Nan soon. Her grandmother’s eightieth birthday was coming up, and it would be nice to surprise her. Not for the first time, Delanie regretted how far Vancouver’s film industry was from her northern Alberta hometown, and not just because of Nan.

Caleb Toews’s face flashed unbidden to her thoughts, and she pushed it away. He didn’t deserve her regret after what he did to her.

The server brought their refills with the promise that their dinner would be out in a few minutes. The alcohol had started going to Delanie’s head, and she left her new margarita untouched. Guilt that she hadn’t already called Nan with the good news about her role pinched her. Of all people, her grandmother deserved to be among the first to know.

Marie held up her phone, its glittery purple case sparkling in the dim lighting. “C’mon, Delanie, come sit on this side so we can do a selfie. This is definitely going on social media. Hashtag move over, Meryl.”

Delanie chuckled, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her friend’s confidence. Maybe she could borrow some of it. “Okay. We should do one with mine too.”

She slipped her phone out of her purse, then swung around to sit on the bench next to Desmond, leaning into him despite the rhinestone pressing into her bare shoulder. He draped his arm around her shoulders, and they grinned at the phone Marie held at arm’s reach until they heard the click.

“Okay, now mine.” Delanie shifted position, as did her two friends, so she could get all three of them in the frame from her end of the bench. She took two quick shots, and then her phone chimed with an incoming text message. The preview flashed the name Josh Rosenburg.

“Ooo, what does Josh want?” Desmond was already halfway through his second Caesar, and it showed.

Marie rolled her eyes. “What are you, twelve? It’s probably about work. Josh is the least-clingy boyfriend I’ve ever seen, which is saying something after that guy I dated in second year. Josh is so unclingy, it’s like he’s not even here.” She gave a meaningful look at the empty bench across from them.

“It’s just because he’s so busy with the show.” Delanie knew she sounded defensive and moderated her tone. “He’s got a lot of responsibilities as producer.” She stood and moved to her own side of the table. “Maybe he’s finally able to join us.”

“I don’t care if he is the show’s producer, he should have been here celebrating with us,” Marie said fiercely. “This is your big break.”

“Which he gave me,” Delanie said pointedly.

“True. But you still deserve better.”

Delanie sighed and tapped on Josh’s text to pull it up, while Desmond retorted to Marie with a sassy quip, then laughed at his own joke while she rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wished Desmond would just get up the nerve to ask Marie out and get it over with. The endless flirting was getting on her nerves. She glanced at her phone.

Twitter is blowing up. Have you seen this?

That didn’t sound good. She clicked the link Josh had included, which took her to a thread she’d been tagged in. A quick glance was all it took to set her heart racing. Words like cancel and outrageous and #byeDelanie jumped out at her.

“What’s wrong?” Desmond said, no longer laughing.

Delanie glanced at her friends’ worried faces, her heart thundering in her ears. “I . . . I don’t know. Something about my latest video.”

Marie started thumbing around on her phone. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Delanie in alarm. “I didn’t notice anything bad in that video.” She looked at Desmond. “Did you?”

He shook his head in bewilderment. The video they had posted yesterday had been right on-brand for Delanie—a one-person musical skit offering scathing commentary about superstar actor Nathan Tait. The former Sexiest Man Alive had been accused of abusing his wife, though he said it was the other way around—as if that was likely. Delanie had made a video of the musical theatre classic “Modern Major General”, dubbing her version “Modern Major Terrible”. The righteous indignation that had fuelled her writing while she’d created the skit now fizzled in astonishment at her fans’ reaction to it.

Desmond pulled out his own phone and scanned Delanie’s Twitter feed. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

“What?” Marie demanded.

“It’s not about yesterday’s video. It’s about that one you made about Nathan three years ago.”

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