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happened?”
    “I totally should not have texted him, but I did, and he keeps texting back—”
    Jen winces and grasps her pregnant belly.
    “You okay?” I ask.
    “Yeah, they’re just a little rambunctious today, and I swear, humans are not made to get this big.” She pushes off the counter and waddles towards the back hall.
    I watch her go and then stare at my phone for a few minutes. Zach asked how Jason found the right manager. I can’t think of a good reply that leaves any kind of question open. I’m too rattled. I type, “He just tried a few until he found one,” and send it. That is likely going to be the last communication I ever have with Zach Wechsler.

    Half an hour later, after I’ve switched the name in my phone to just his first name, comes another text.
    Zach: He ever have any bad ones?
    My traitorous heart pounds with excitement.
    Kyra: I don’t know. But he and his mom talk about it sometimes, how that’s one of the reasons why a lot of child stars can’t transition to a full-time career as an adult. It’s hard to survive the staffing change.
    After I hit send, I realize I just insinuated to Zach that his career might be on the decline. Smooth, Kyra. Real smooth.

    Another text shows up on my phone while I’m out for a jog, not that I’ve gotten all neurotic about my appearance or anything.
    Zach: Yep, I think about that a lot. I wish I still spoke to my mom.
    I didn’t really get up early enough for a jog, though. Albuquerque is a desert and running around when the sun’s overhead is a good way to get dehydrated.
    When I get home, while I’m still sweaty and disgusting, I type, “It would be hard not to have anyone to talk to.” Lame, is the first thought that hits me when I send it. I was clearly fishing for more attention there. I bet that ends things.

    Zach: It’s very lonely, yeah, so sorry if I talk your ear off.
    Kyra: No, don’t worry about it.
    Zach: When my mom left, we had to get the police to escort her off our property. We took out a restraining order against her.
    Kyra: I’m surprised the media didn’t find out.
    Zach: Well, our mom has her ways of preventing that kind of thing.
    I stare at that text for a long time. The media know how to get at anyone, anytime almost. I’ve heard of people cutting deals to bribe them and such, but I can’t imagine what kind of bribe would keep a tidbit like this a secret. I wonder how legal Zach’s mother’s “ways” are. “Still,” I type, “that’s gotta be rough.”
    Zach: It is. Our new manager’s nice, though. His name’s Rick and he’s very hands off. I worry that this is the wrong direction to go, because we were so successful with Mom.
    Kyra: Is it hard to get the three of you to agree on one manager?
    Zach: Yep. Really hard. ‘Could possibly break up the band’ kind of hard.
    All of these messages he sends me are media tidbits worth big money. I wonder whether he’s messing with me or really that naïve.
    Kyra: Well, definitely don’t let the media find out about that. You can trust me, though :-)
    There, the ultimate test—the smiley face in the text.
    Zach: I do trust you, yeah. Thanks for talking to me about this.
    My knees are jelly again after that last text. I can not handle this. This text conversation has been spread across several insanely stressful days, during which I’ve only had to work one shift at Jen’s restaurant. (I fill in whenever they are short staffed.) This has left me way too much time to obsess. What are you doing, Kyra? I ask myself.
    I grab my phone and call Chloe. “Can you go to the movies with me or something?” I ask when she answers.
    “Not tonight, but tomorrow, sure.” She sounds exhausted.
    I really shouldn’t be bothering her. “Okay…”
    “What’s up?”
    “Nothing new. Not really…”
    “You need to talk?”
    “Maybe…”
    “Listen, I’ll call you later on tonight, okay? You’ll be all right until then?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Love you.”
    Those words