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And I, well, I thought you might want someone to talk through them with.”

    “That’s sweet,” I say, wondering if he’s just doing his job, or if he knows how awkward the whole me-Blake thing is. Or if, like Mackenzie, he’s worried about my emotional well-being. Whatever the reason, it’s a nice gesture. “Normally I’d take you up on it, but I’ve got these plans…”

    “Shopping. Right.”

    Suddenly my need for retail therapy sounds so trivial. This is a career-making movie for me. But am I running lines before a major emotional scene? No, I’m planning to drown my sorrows in a flurry of Prada paraphernalia.

    I debate whether I should call Lindy and cancel. Except if I do, then I’ll feel guilty, since I’m the one who begged her to take off early from work. Besides, I really want to shop.

    I’m weighing my options when Susie trots up, breathless, a small package in her hand. “Hey! This just came for you!”

    I hold out my hand to receive the package, and Susie shoves a festive green gift bag stuffed with pink tissue paper into my hand. Inside, I see an envelope peeking out, as well as a silver foil box. I pull out the envelope first. It’s on T-H Productions stationery, and the return address of Tobias’s office bungalow on the studio lot is embossed in the upper left corner. Inside, I know I’ll find a single sheet of paper with Tobias’s neat handwriting. At the top, he’ll compliment me on one aspect of my performance. And then he’ll fill up the rest of the sheet—front and back—with both criticisms and suggestions for nailing tomorrow’s scenes.

    I barely glance at it—I’mso not reading notes in front of Susie and Andy—then slide it back into the bag and pull out the small foil box. It’s a little bit wider than a ring box and significantly taller. Inside, I find a very plump strawberry covered in white and black chocolate, designed to look like the strawberry is wearing a little tuxedo.

    “Awww,” says Susie. “It’s so cute.”

    “Darling,” I say. Then I put the lid back on and slide the box back into the bag.

    “Aren’t you going to eat it?” Andy asks.

    Susie rolls her eyes. “Teeth.”

    “Excuse me?” Andy shoots her a baffled look.

    Susie points to me, giving me the floor. “She means my teeth,” I say, aiming a solid glare in her direction. “I never eat unless I can brush my teeth.”

    Andy looks taken aback. “Really? I never heard that.”

    “That’s because I’m careful to keep my personal quirks out of the tabloids,” I say, directing the comment to Susie, who at least has the grace to blush.

    “I gotta get back,” she says, probably afraid I’m going to chew her out. And then she scurries away.

    I stifle the urge to roll my eyes and turn back to Andy. “It’s an old habit,” I say, by way of explanation. “If I ate full meals on the set when I was a kid, I’d be too sleepy to get through all the takes. So they let me snack pretty much all day. But I had to brush my teeth after everything. It wasn’t that anyone cared so much about the health of my teeth. But if they had to redo a scene because I had chocolate on my front tooth…well, then that would be an expensive chocolate bar, you know?”

    “I had no idea,” Andy says.

    I shrug. “No one does.”

    For that matter, no one knows I hate chocolate. That’s another one of my little quirks that I’ve never revealed to the public. It’s stupid, but I just want to keep some personal details secret. If anyone asks in an interview, I always say that I love chocolate just like every other girl on the planet. Just recently, in fact, I’d claimed that chocolate-covered strawberries gave me more of a rush than sex. (Not that this is a red-hot interview subject, but you’d be surprised at the mundane stuff that some of these reporters want to know.)

    Although…

    I frown a little. Because Tobiasdoes know about my chocolate issues. But he probably just forgot. Or, more likely, didn’t tell his assistant when he asked her to buy me a trinket to go