Chapter Eleven

Even though I had nothing alcoholic to drink last night, I feel hungover when my phone's sharp ring blasts me awake.

I roll over, only to see that Ryan's already out of bed. Understandable, since when I check the clock, I see that it's ten.

The ringing stops, and I wait to see if a voicemail pops up, but it doesn't. The message notification icon bounces from 10 to 11, though. I pop over and find a text from Matthew saying that he and Carson are on their way. They'll be at my house by ten-fifteen.

What the bloody fuck?

I groan, then slide on some leggings and a tank top, splash water on my face, then run a brush through my hair. And that's about as good as they're going to get.

I use my phone to see that Ryan—or, at least his phone—is at Stark Security. No big surprise there. But it means that he's not here to play host while I take a few minutes to feel human.

I head barefoot to the kitchen, then stare into the refrigerator, only deciding on a yogurt cup when the doorbell rings. I frown. I'd assumed I'd have a heads-up when they called from the gate we share with Damien. But I forgot that Matthew has the code.

With one part curiosity and one part dread, I hurry downstairs. I can't think of a single reason they'd come over this early. And to me, that means bad news.

I know the second I open the door that I'm right. Both of their faces are tight with fury, and it's easy enough to see that it's not directed at me.

"The fucking studio," Matthew says as I usher them in.

"What are you talking about?"

"The studio is demanding we fire you," Carson tells me, making the yogurt curdle in my gut.

"But they can't. I mean, isn't it against the law to fire someone because they're pregnant?"

"That's not why they're firing you," Matthew says, pacing. "Or, rather, why they're making me fire you."

"Then why?" I feel numb. Lost. And very confused.

"Apparently, you're not right for the part."

"Excuse me?"

"Fucking Bryan Raine," Carson says. "The studio's golden boy. He got ahold of the rehearsal vids, and then he took them to the studio."

"The rehearsals went great," I say, still utterly bewildered. "And those rehearsals weren't with him, anyway."

"That's the point. It's all about how the suits wanted him as the male lead. How he shares the studio's vision. And that vision just doesn't jibe with your interpretation of the role with an actor who's no longer on the film."

"That conniving, egotistical little prick. He can't do that."

"He did," Matthew says. "We got official orders to fire you for not being suitable for the role. The termination provision is sweet—you'll get a nice check—but we're stuck. I've already talked with the studio lawyers and my attorney."

"But I'm totally suitable. I'm perfect."

"You are," Carson says. "We all know damn well why he's doing this, but we can't prove it."

"Because I'm pregnant."

"That. And because he wants to bring his girlfriend in."

"Annalise Vail," I say. "Like she's suitable for any role. The woman can't act. Did you see her last film?"

"I did," Matthew said. "For some inexplicable reason, Bryan Raine has some pull at this studio."

"I could sue. It can't be that hard to prove the real reason."

"You could try. And you'd probably win. But the studio would just kill the movie. You'd have cash, but no film."

"Fuck."

Matthew comes over and gives me a hug. "I'm sorry. This is a great role for you. But there will be other great roles."

Maybe, I think, as I watch them leave. But this is the one I want.

I start to call Evelyn, but I'm too much of a wreck and hang up before she answers. Then I shut my phone off entirely.

I slip on some shoes, grab my car keys, and head out. I have no idea where I'm going. All I know is that I want to walk. I want to be alone.

Most of all, I want to think.