Page 17 of Enemies Off Camera
I keep walking.
But at least I raise my hand behind me and say, “Bye.”
Engine idling,I sit in the driver’s seat of my car, fingers clamped around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. I feel so...
What are the words?
Ding, dum, ding...
I glance at the name flashing across the dash and pressAnswer.
“That was brutal,” I say.
“You need me to be brutal,” Anne replies without missing a beat. “Your career depends on it. And don’t forget to thank me when you're holding that Best Lead Actress trophy forNext In Line.”
There’s a pause. Then her voice softens, just enough.
“But yeah… as your friend, I was a bitch.” A sigh. “I’ll make it up to you. Come to dinner tonight? You’ve been holed up in that house too long. Not just hiding — disappearing. That’s not healthy, Zara. You need people. You need air. It’s time to come back to the real world, okay?”
I bite down on the back of my teeth and clutch the wheel tighter. Anne knows me too well. She knows I haven’t been living healthily since the show ended—knows exactly what I’m prone to become when the noise dies down. And I want that. God, I want it so badly. The silence. The slipping away. But it’s not good for me. I will lose everything if I give in to that part of myself.
So, I gut it up, force the words out, and say,
“What time?”
ELEVEN
Anne lives in Bel-Air with her husband, Rich Conway—a mega-producer and a major reason her clients land the best roles. I was lucky to land her as my agent.
By the time I reach the gated community, I’m frazzled from traffic. God, I hate driving in this city. It would’ve been a nightmare if I didn’t know the back streets. In L.A., those who master the side routes win the war. And thankfully, I know my way around.
Anne and Rich’s home is modest by Bel-Air standards. A Spanish-style, white-stone two-story tucked behind towering hedges, framed by blooming jacaranda trees that look like lavender clouds. It’s tasteful. Quiet. Like they’re hiding from the industry that made them.
A housekeeper leads me through a cool, open foyer, where a tall olive tree stands beneath a skylight. My entire place in Encino could fit inside their first floor. But it still feels cozy. Every piece is curated without being pretentious—soft beige walls, pale oak floors, and art chosen with taste, not just money. A massive black-and-white portrait of Eartha Kitt winks at me from above a console table. That feels like Anne.
We pass through a sunken living room: cream sofas, a faded Moroccan rug, books stacked like sculpture. A fireplace that looks unused. The air smells faintly of eucalyptus and something herbal—like Anne has her own candle line she’s keeping secret.
Floor-to-ceiling sliding doors are open to the backyard. The ocean breeze drifts in, light and warm. I really have to think about moving out of the Valley. It’s blazing hot at my place. The A/C never turns off.
Outside, under a wide veranda wrapped in flowering vines, a cozy wooden table is set for dinner. String lights hang in soft lines overhead.
Anne is already there, barefoot, in linen pants and a sleeveless white eyelet top, wine in hand, looking like her day just exhaled.
“You made it!” she says, pouring me a glass from the chilled bottle.
I raise my hands, wiggling my fingers. “I have.”
“Good.” She hands me the glass. “Sit. Rich had a new brick pizza oven installed. We’re having his famous loaded pizza. You’ll love it.”
“Right,” I say cautiously. “You’re talking fast. Am I still in trouble?”
“Remember how we met?” she asks, skipping right past my question.
And just like that, my mind drifts back to one of the most pivotal nights of my life.
We met by accident. I was working a catering gig in Holmby Hills. The uniform was black, A-line, and way too short. The top plunged so low I spent most of the night terrified a boob would pop out. I hated the job, but I needed the money. Rent was due. My fridge was empty. I’d missed minimum payments on all five credit cards.
Yes—I was sexualizing myself for the paycheck. But I was there to serve food, not the jerk who cornered me during a bathroom break, shoved me against the wall, and tried to pull my panties down.
