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Ergo, no party.”
    “Can’t we just shoot it in a club?” Anna suggested. “Someplace decadent?”
    “Been there, done that,” Sam replied. “A guy last year did a short film at Au Bar that made it into the L.A. Film Festival. We need something fresh. We really need to get it together by this weekend if we want to—wait. I’ve got it. Veronique’s Maison!”
    “Veronica’s house?” Anna translated.
    “It’s this incredible spa in Palm Springs,” Sam explained. “I was thinking of going up there later in the month anyway. Here, check it out. Look in the very back.” She pulled the latest edition of
Los Angeles
magazine out of her backpack and handed it to Anna, who flipped to the last page, where she found the tiniest of boxed ads.
    It read simply:
VERONIQUE’S MAISON. 2006 waiting list only. E-mail only to [email protected]. NO calls
.
    “2006? Impressive,” Anna said.
    “They don’t really need the ad; they only place it to be snotty. Like, they don’t even tell you it’s a spa; you just have to know. Trust me, this place is as Daisy Buchanan as you can get. Mixed with a little Deepak Chopra, but whatever. I think we should go this weekend. And film there.”
    Anna handed the magazine back to Sam. “I suppose the waiting list doesn’t apply to you.”
    “Your point?” Sam asked.
    “None. But I really don’t know if I can spend the weekend away.”
    “Why not?”
    “I might have plans.”
    “Change them.”
    “Adam and I were talking about going to the San Diego Zoo.”
    “Yeah, I saw you two together yesterday.” Sam worked hard not to look at Anna’s mouth. Which was just so sick! The only reason she was even thinking about that was because of her stupid dream, which didn’t mean anything. “Invite him to come out to V’s. So, you and Adam, huh?”
    Anna shrugged. “We’re friends.”
    “Friends who get naked and do the nasty or the boring kind?”
    Anna laughed. “I don’t know yet.”
    Sam shook her perfectly streaked locks off her face. “Come on. You know if the vibe is there.”
    Anna looked contemplative. “Well, I kissed him last night.”
    Sam checked in with herself on how she felt about that, but everything was too jumbled together in her mind. She shrugged. “A kiss is just a kiss.”
    “Casablanca.”
Anna smiled.
    “Wait, I thought you told me you never went to the movies,” Sam reminded her.
    “Come on.
Casablanca
is a classic.”
    “And you’re a classics kind of babe,” Sam surmised. Oh God, did she sound
flirtatious?
Because that would be horrible! “So, anyway, how was it?”
    “Nice.”
    “Translation—no chemistry,” Sam surmised.
    “It was a first kiss, not a scorched-earth policy.”
    “Chemistry is chemistry,” Sam insisted. “Either you want to jump his bones or you don’t. Hold on, I’ve got a phone call to make.”
    Sam pulled her cell from her purse and made a quick call to her father’s executive assistant, telling her to book two suites at V’s for the weekend.
    “Done.” Sam dropped the palm-size phone back into her purse with a big smile. “We’ll have a blast.” Her gut told her that the Anna and Adam thing wasn’t exactly torrid. Plus the thought of spending the weekend at a spa with Anna made her feel … happy. “And it’s on me,” she added.
    “That’s not necessary, but thanks for the offer. Listen, if we’re going to do a film, won’t we need to write a script?” Anna pointed out.
    Sam shook her head. “We’ll just improv and see what we get.”
    “I think that’s another way of saying we’ll be unprepared.”
    Sam sighed. Why was Anna being difficult? “Fine, I’ll write a—”
    “Why don’t I do it?” Anna interrupted. “You’re directing and producing, the least I can do is write.”
    Sam was dubious. “Have you ever written a screenplay?”
    “No. But we’re only talking about, what, a ten-minute film? Everyone has to start somewhere.”
    “Really, Anna, I