Page 82 of Romance Is Dead

What a dick.

“He broke up with me, you know,” Chloe continued. “Two days before he died. He said he wanted to ‘keep his options open.’” She made exaggerated air quotes with her fingers, twisting her expression into one of mockery. “He was full of shit.”

My heart tugged. If anyone understood the perils of trying to date in this industry, I did. “Any guy who pulls a line like that isn’t worth it.” Out of comforting words, I sat with her and rubbed her back as she cried it out. When her sobs slowly died down, she finally pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t stop crying.” She sniffled. “Actors, you know?”

I nodded. “I do.”

Chloe laughed weakly. “I think this might have put me off acting for good.”

“Don’t say that. The movie’s going to be huge, and you’re one of the stars.”

I knew it was hypocritical—me, of all people, urging someone not to give up. But I also understood the desperation to be successful, the way the industry could work its hooks into you. Since Scott told us that the production might be shut down, I’d caught myself no less than three times having panicky thoughts about the fallout: would people think it was my fault? Would my reputation be irreparably damaged? Would anyone want to hire me again?

I had to keep reminding myself that it didn’t matter.

“Maybe.” Chloe looked doubtful. “It just seems so cutthroat. Like no one in this industry can be trusted.”

“Like who?”

“Brent for one, Audrey for two.” She ticked the names off on her fingers. “And if you want a real shock, check out the name Eerie Poodle when you get the chance.”

Eerie Poodle? I made a note to look it up later. “Audrey coming after you like that did surprise me. What happened?”

Even though we were alone in her room, Chloe lowered her voice and leaned in close. “Do you know what I caught her throwing away right after Brent died? A bag of peanuts. That’s why she came after me yesterday. Because I told her I’d seen.”

“Did you tell the police?”

She shook her head, a silent no. “I was afraid.” Her voice was barely audible. “I didn’t want her to know I told anyone.”

Before we could continue, my phone buzzed. I checked the screen—a text from Mara. It was a link to one of Austin’s Instagram posts, a photo of him and his new girlfriend, who happened to be one of the biggest up-and-coming actresses in the biz. They were both topless in his palatial bedroom, the woman curved against Austin’s chest as his tattooed arms held her close. Ugh, poor Mara. I closed the message, making a mental note to reply later.

Chloe noticed me checking the device. “Is that your man?” She grinned at my puzzled look. “Come on, I see the way you and Teddy look at each other.”

My stomach sank. We’d been that obvious? “There’s nothing going on between us.”

“If you say so. Probably for the best. I wouldn’t want my boyfriend going on another dating reality show either.”

“What do you mean?” This was news to me. But then, I guess we hadn’t talked about our plans for after the film. Why would we?

“He’s filming that show over the winter, isn’t he?” Chloe looked at me carefully. “That’s what he told me when we had lunch the other day.Love by the Stars, I think it’s called. Something about matching people up by their zodiac signs.”

“Oh.” I said, my throat weirdly thick. “Good for him.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. That was the type of person Teddy was: a hot guy who enjoyed being famous for being hot on TV. I knew that whatever was happening between us had a firm expiration date. I knew that.

So why was my heart sinking?

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up.” Chloe stood, dabbing at her eyes and reaching for her clothes to finish packing. “Now let’s grab that coffee. I have to leave for the airport in an hour.”

As we stepped into the hall, I pulled out my phone. I was dying to know who this “Eerie Poodle” was that Chloe had referenced. Google pointed me to the user’s TikTok, a gossip account focused on spreading rumors about celebrities—one that I immediately recognized from my own experiences with media onslaught. I clicked on the profile photo, curious to see the face of whoever got their kicks from putting other people down.

It was a young man, tipping a bowler hat down to protect his face. And there on his wrist was a friendship bracelet, one that was starting to look very familiar.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“What a prick. What a little snake.” I was pacing my room, still fired up that evening from what I had learned about Trevor earlier in the day. “He had the audacity to pretend to be a fan when I met him.”

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