Page 29 of Every Star that Shines

But suddenly, nothing about that situation made sense anymore. Delanie was struck with an urge to send Caleb a text and ask him outright, but she shied away from it. What if she was wrong, and the situation was exactly what she had suspected all along? Did she truly want her worst fears confirmed?

“I’m such a dope.” Delanie rested her forehead in her hands.

“Just because Josh is a class-A ratbag doesn’t say anything about you,” Marie said. “Except maybe you should have listened to me all along.”

“Thanks,” Delanie said dryly, meeting her friend’s eye.

“Any time, girl.” Marie grinned.

Delanie pressed her fingers to her temples. “If Josh is already moving on, how long before everyone else in Vancouver forgets about me? All my hard work will go down the toilet. Maybe it was a mistake to stay in Peace Crossing. I should come back, let my face be seen around town. I should be auditioning.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “I need to make an apology video for my fans before I lose any more Patreon supporters.”

“Whoa, whoa. Easy, little lady,” Desmond said in a John Wayne drawl. Switching to a sophisticated zen-like tone, he added, “Let’s just take a breath.” He inhaled slowly, then exhaled, using his hands to accompany the direction of the air like he was some kind of meditation instructor.

“Des is right,” Marie said. “And you should not make an apology video. Then the haters just pile on you more. Like what happened when you tried to manage the situation on Twitter.” She arched a brow, and Delanie’s face flushed with heat. “Yeah, I saw it.”

“I don’t know, Marie,” Desmond said. “A sincere apology video might go a long way to fixing this.”

“Sincere?” Marie scoffed. “When have you ever seen anyone make an apology video that was sincere in response to a lynching?” She shook her head, and her hoop earrings swung against her cheeks. “Those are some of the most Oscar-worthy performances I’ve ever seen.”

“But we know Delanie is sincerely sorry,” Desmond said. “Maybe hers would be different. I think the fans can sense that authenticity.”

“Sincerely sorry for what?” Anger stirred in Delanie’s belly, and she straightened. “I’ve been thinking about this non-stop for a week, and I still don’t know what I did wrong. How could anyone have seen the future? But that seems to be what my fans expected me to do.” She felt tears threatening again, and took a breath to banish them. “Marie’s right. I’m sorry my fans are angry and that there’s this huge misunderstanding, but I’m not sorry for anything I did.”

“That’s my girl.” Marie gave an approving grin, jabbing her index finger at the screen. “That fire there—that’s the Delanie that’s going to get you through this.”

“Maybe.” Delanie’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how, though. I just feel so . . . helpless.”

She had been in other situations where someone had tried to steal her power.

The girl who had bullied her in third grade.

The line chef at the café who had always made her orders last and blamed her for not putting them through at the right time to make her look bad in front of the boss.

The actor for the banking commercial she had done right after film school who had kept cornering her with sleazy come-ons.

But none of them had ever made her feel this vulnerable. She had thought her fans and supporters were on her side. This cancellation was another betrayal, potentially the worst yet.

“You know what you need to do?” Marie paused to take a sip of water and put the glass down off-camera. “You need to find yourself a date and show up at the Starlight Gala. You still have your invitation, even if you and Josh have broken up. I’ll be your plus one.”

“Hey, what about me?” Desmond scrunched his face.

“The invitation is only for two, and I look better in a tux. Sorry, you’re out.” Marie ignored Desmond’s aghast expression and turned her attention back to Delanie. “We’ll show Josh and Crystal and Kaitlyn and anyone else who thinks they can cut you down that you will not just lay there and take the rotten tomatoes they’re slinging at you. You have no reason to be ashamed—they do. You need to show them you won’t let them win.”

Delanie imagined walking into the gala ballroom looking like a million bucks. The prospect of watching the smug look fall from Josh’s face was tempting. But right now, he held all the cards. No matter how high she held her head, they would both know her peacocking was only to distract from the tail tucked between her legs.

“That would be easier if I had another job lined up by then,” Delanie said. “Something that paid ten times more would be nice.”

“Haven’t you received any other call-backs?” Desmond asked.

Delanie shook her head morosely. She had finally given up on the auditions she’d done at the end of August before the Trueheart offer came through. If they were going to call her back for anything, they would have by now.

Marie’s face lit up. “I almost forgot. I ran into Tessa Montague at the club on Friday, and we started talking about you. She said she was pretty intrigued by the work you were doing on YouTube. When I told her you were directing a community theatre kids’ play, she asked for your email address. Said she might have a proposition for you.”

“She did?” Delanie’s heart skipped. “She’s actually heard of me?” Tessa Montague was one of those eclectic artists who created films that stretched the boundaries and always made people think—not big blockbusters, more like very successful art films. She was one of Delanie’s bucket-list directors. “Did you give it to her?”

“Of course.” Marie grinned. “And I told her about the funeral and that she should wait a few days before reaching out. But you could hear from her any time now.”

“Interesting,” said Desmond, raising one eyebrow and tilting his head in a Mr. Spock impersonation.

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