Morthisal considered going out, finding a bar, and having a drink, perhaps talking to some interesting denizens of Los Angeles, because there was no lack of them.

  He had plenty of power now to control more than two people at once, thanks to the increase in his reserves. If he got into any sort of trouble, he was thinking specifically of the paparazzi; there was a good chance he'd be able to extricate himself. Rumors had renewed about his and Yvette's relationship. She had assured him that her PR team would handle it for now. She had suggested that they try a simple explanation to the media regarding their relationship.

  In Seattle, they had been able to cover it up through careful manipulation. Morthisal had simply convinced his former boss to say that the photo of him and Yvette on a date had been manipulated by the press.

  Now that they were rumored to be a thing, Yvette had mentioned they needed to meet with a consulting firm to work on a story about their romance. Whatever they came up with would be leaked to the press and social media over several days or weeks.

  His more immediate concern was about David Reeves. How had the man learned more than one power since he had arrived? Morthisal had found his one power by accident. Maybe he could develop others if he tried. He knew that Reeves could put up a blank wall. Morthisal's threads had evaporated when he had tried to use them on the man. Perhaps he could do the same, but how would he know if they even worked? Reeves had spoken of other powers. Perhaps a bluff, but Morthisal needed to know.

  A text arrived from Yvette.

  Phillip's lawyer has been blowing up my phone about the deal he took. She probably wants a job.

  I hope you aren't considering hiring her.

  I don't know. I like her. I like her no nonsense attitude. I had a chance to look over the documents she and Philip put together, and they were ironclad. If not for you, this whole thing would be heading to litigation.

  Morthisal sent back a laughing emoji and typed back: I am pleased it worked out.

  Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

  I feel like I owe you for Philip. You went out on a limb for me, so let me pay you for your consulting work. I'm all the way in Hong Kong right now, nowhere near you, so you know this is of my own free will, not your influence.

  Morthisal drummed his fingers on the back of his phone as he considered her offer. Between him needing a new place to live, the cost of having a real bodyguard, plus his continued acting lessons, and the outrageous cost of everything in Los Angeles, he could really use the money.

  Yvette added, You have no idea how much money, time, and hassle you saved me.

  I accept and thank you, my dear Yvette.

  Great! Send your bank account info.

  Wonderful. I shall see you this weekend. Where are we staying?

  I'd like to surprise you. Hold off on an apartment for now. I have a few in mind I'd like to show you. They are reasonably priced.

  Morthisal sent a heart emoji. Yvette answered with one, followed by several kiss emojis.

  After he put the phone down, Morthisal turned on the television and found a channel to watch. Married at First Sight played on mute. He had devoured these shows after his arrival. Love Is Blind, The Bachelorette, Too Hot to Handle. When he first arrived in Vince's body, he found the shows endlessly entertaining; he still did.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The shows were fake, obviously. Every confession scripted, every conflict manufactured by producers who understood that drama sold better than genuine affection.

  But he'd learned anyway. Learned the language of it, how to behave like a normal human. The gestures. The way vulnerability could be a strength rather than a weakness. It had gone a long way toward making his integration easier.

  Perhaps that's why he'd recognized what he felt for Yvette. Not because he was wise, but because he'd accidentally taken a crash course in romance from the most artificial source imaginable.

  The irony was almost perfect.

  He awoke the next morning, far too early, and rose to make a cup of coffee before hopping in the shower. He had a seven AM call time, and it was not a good idea to be late to set when Gus Mancini was the director. There was still time to get in a quick run if Morthisal got going now.

  He picked up his phone and found a few notifications at the top from his bank. Morthisal scrolled them down, read them. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes and squinted. Then he dropped the phone on the bed in shock.

  "By the shadows." Morthisal stared and stared before he lowered his phone.

  During the night, thirty thousand dollars had been deposited in his bank account.

  He found another message from Yvette. The first payment went through. I would have had the bank send more, but I didn't want to set off any alarm bells at the IRS. If you have any issues with the money, let me know ASAP.

  Morthisal grinned and thanked her again, then he got ready to go for a run. He wore a ballcap and reflective sunglasses. He and Kenadee left early enough in the morning that there were few people hanging around the Hollywood Hacienda. If any tried to latch onto them, Morthisal could easily send them away with a small thread.

  Morthisal jogged alongside Kenadee through the Hollywood Hills. His breathing came easier now. His legs no longer burned after the first mile. He was able to do five miles or a little more. He was rather proud of his progress and felt like he would soon be able to do ten. Kenadee had talked Morhtisal into getting a gym membership a few weeks ago. Most mornings they made that their next stop after running, but he wouldn't have time today.

  Kenadee was his normal self and commented on everything they ran past. He asked questions about the movie set, Serena Winters, and the director. Morthisal was happy to share his experiences. As they neared the five-mile mark, Kenadee said, "You're getting faster. I might actually have to push myself soon."

  "Do not hold back on my account."

  Kenadee grinned and picked up the pace. Morthisal matched him stride for stride.

  When they returned to the Hollywood Hacienda, he pulled the jacket's hood up, slipped on his sunglasses, and sprinted to the gate, leapt over it, and then took a break to catch his breath.

  Kenadee had headed to the gym to lift weights, while Morthisal headed back to the hotel. Morthisal had tried that and found it exhilarating. He did not use heavy weights, but those to help tone his muscles.

  It was 9:00 AM, and Big Eddie sat by the pool with Marcus and Kristol, sipping coffee from white paper cups. They waved Morthisal over. Eddie sat in a pair of shorts and not much else. He loved to have his prodigious belly on display.

  Marcus wore a robe and slippers. He lay on his back on the concrete, legs kicked up on a pool chair, his eyes on the sky above.

  Kristol reclined in a two-piece bikini that left little to the imagination, the kind that drew Eddie's gaze every few seconds and kept Marcus positioned exactly where he had the best view of the pool chairs. Kristol relished the attention.

  "Hey, movie star," Eddie called. "Saw your name in Variety yesterday. You're moving up in the world."

  "I have been fortunate," Morthisal said, hands on his hips, breath ragged but in a good way.

  "Fortunate." Marcus snorted. "You're really good, man. If you weren't, then you wouldn't be in a fucking Gus Mancini flick. Don't downplay your success."

  "Thank you for the kind words."

  Eddie nodded, then frowned. "I worked with Gus once. He was an asshole. Brilliant as fuck, but, yeah. An asshole."

  "Accurate." Morthisal nodded once.

  Kristol handed Morthisal a bottle of water from her mini cooler. He nodded thanks. "Are you still going to talk to us when you're famous?"

  "Of course. You are my friends."

  "Friends with a future Oscar winner," Eddie said. "I'm putting that on my resume."

  They laughed, but Morthisal noticed the way Marcus's smile didn't quite reach his face. The screenwriter had been at the Hacienda for four years. Morthisal had been here less than two months and had already surpassed all of them. He was familiar with the jealousy of those around him. He considered asking Marcus for a synopsis he could take to Jordan, but realized that as soon as he did that, the others would all want something from him as well.

  Kristol snapped her fingers and said, "Vince. I almost forgot. Someone dropped this off at the front desk yesterday. I told Jasper I'd give it to you."

  She handed him a plain cream-colored business card with a name written on the front in a gold-embossed, scripted font. Beneath it was a phone number.

  "David Reeves," Morthisal muttered.

  "So you know him?"

  Morthisal nodded and excused himself. He needed to make some phone calls, and the first would be to Joel Kelly. The next would be to Thalindra.