Imposter by Antony John Page A

Annaleigh.
    â€œSo,” says Annaleigh. “You got any career advice for us?”
    Kris looks at Curt loitering a few yards away and lowers his voice. “Sure. Curt Barrett is a visionary. If he’s putting up the money for this movie, he clearly believes in it. Don’t do anything to change his mind.”
    â€œYou mean, like dropping out without warning?” I ask.
    Kris flexes his jaw muscles. “Exactly.”
    â€œHe still invited you here tonight, though.”
    â€œYou might say we made up.” On cue, Kris’s entourage laughs like well-trained dogs. “But you’re not me. Not everyone deserves a second chance.”
    My phone chimes again, startling me. I glance at the screen:
Smile for the cameras.
    None of Kris’s guys has a cell phone out, so they can’t be sending the texts. Plenty of other people around the room have phones out, but I don’t know any of them.
    â€œIs everything okay?” Annaleigh whispers.
    I don’t want to freak her out. “Yeah . . . fine.”
    â€œSeth, Annaleigh,” booms Curt, rejoining us. He’s clearly anxious that we remain within his gravitational pull. “I don’t think you’ve met Tamara.”
    Kris peels away as the new arrival steps up.
    â€œTamara Pelham,” she says, shaking our hands. She has the angular face and dramatic makeup of a model. “You’re the ones in
Whirlwind
.” She runs a finger around the rim of her wineglass. “Tell me, what’s it like working with Sabrina?”
    â€œShe’s a talented actress,” says Annaleigh, staying close to me.
    â€œActress, yes. Must be hard to know where you stand with her.”
    â€œThat’s kind of the point of semi-improvised drama, right?” I say.
    Tamara smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You two are cute. Funny too,” she adds like we’re part of the evening’s entertainment.
    â€œFunny’s good.” I turn to Annaleigh. “Don’t you think so?”
    â€œAbsolutely. Almost as good as a drink. Want one?”
    â€œSure.”
    As Annaleigh leaves, Tamara’s eyes drift over my shoulder. “Time for me to go too, I think.”
    She steps away as Sabrina arrives, like a partner cutting in during a dance. Did Annaleigh see Sabrina coming? Is that why she left?
    Annaleigh and I aren’t the only ones who have had another wardrobe change. Sabrina’s black cocktail dress ends well above her knees. She’s wearing her game face too: teasing lipstick smile, eyes dark and smoky.
    â€œWell, if it isn’t my favorite costar.” She kisses me on the cheek. “I trust you weren’t taken in by the competition.”
    â€œCompetition?”
    She locks our arms and leads me away. Guests raise cell phones to capture the image of us together, hips touching, perfectly in stride.
    â€œDid Tamara get what she was after?” Sabrina continues, ignoring my question.
    â€œWhat was she after?”
    â€œOh . . . news. Information.” She leans in close. “She’s the model Kris has been seeing in secret since we broke up.”
    So that’s what Sabrina means by “competition”—for
Kris
. “Why is it a secret?”
    â€œBecause he likes to keep his options open. Plus, she’s engaged.”
    â€œ
What?
Does anyone know she’s seeing Kris?”
    â€œSure. But no one will say a word. In this business, the momentyou start shooting your mouth off is the moment you put yourself next in the firing line.”
    Guests turn to face us, cell phones at the ready. They stand in a bunch, wearing identical alcoholic smiles. All except for a young curly-haired guy on the left. He keeps one phone aloft as he talks on another. He isn’t even watching us, which makes me think he’s filming us, not photographing.
    Sabrina tugs my arm and we keep moving.
    â€œWhat about the press?” I