VIVIAN
The photographer adjusts the lighting for the third time. "Tilt your chin up slightly. Perfect. Hold that."
I smile on command, the way Marcus taught me. Warm but professional. Approachable but aspirational. The kind of smile that sells movies and makes producers think I'm worth the investment.
"Gorgeous," the photographer says. "Now give me something more playful."
This is my first press junket. Small role in an indie film that probably won't make back its budget, but it's something. My face in a magazine. My name in print. Proof that I'm building something real.
My phone buzzes in my purse across the room. I ignore it. Marcus said no distractions during press.
"Perfect. That's the shot." The photographer lowers the camera. "Take five, everyone."
I grab my phone to check messages. Twenty-three texts. Forty-six Instagram notifications. My stomach drops.
The first text is from Marcus: Call me. Now.
