Page 70 of Dream On, Ramona Riley

“Then why…” she started but trailed off. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to know now, wasn’t sure it even mattered. She felt beat-up, a rag doll flung around by a thoughtless child. She knew she was lucky—shedidknow. She had a major role in a movie, and she never had to worry about money, and she shouldn’t complain, shouldn’t feel such a hollow place in her chest, but she couldn’t help it.

She’d wanted this to be hers.

This movie, this role, this new chapter in her life.

But it turned out Blair was right.

“Then why did they cast me?” she finally managed to ask.

Laurel sighed again, but when she spoke, her voice was firm, sure. “Because you needed it.”

Dylan looked up at her. “I needed it.”

“You hadn’t worked in months. You’d just broken up with Jocelyn, with the champagne in the Mondrian’s pool and that helicopter fiasco—”

“I was there.”

“You were drowning,” Laurel went on. “You needed a new image. Youwanteda new image, and my job is to get it for you.”

Dylan shook her head, thoughts swirling. “How did Adriana even…As If You Didn’t Knowis major motion picture. Skylark is a major studio. Millions and millions of dollars. How?”

Laurel shrugged nonchalantly. “Adriana is good at her job, and I’m not too shabby myself. And you’re a name. A big one. You think Skylark Studios would pass up turning Killin’ Dylan into America’s sweetheart? No, they wouldn’t. And Gia got over it.”

Dylan blinked. “So Adriana just…what? Pawned me off as some story?”

“I think Adriana would call it a pitch. But, sweetie,” Laurel said gently, “everything in this business is a story.”

Dylan opened her mouth to refute that, but realized she couldn’t. Not one bit. Hollywood was a tapestry of tales, dreamed and woven and made. Hardly anything was organic, everything a carefully planned move. A strategy.

Even love.

“Rayna wants me to date Ramona,” Dylan said, her hands pressed her to knees. She stared at a spot on the floor, a whorl of dark and light wood, waiting for Laurel to speak.

But Laurel said nothing. She let the words hover between them, and this too was probably a strategy.

“Say something,” Dylan said.

Laurel sighed. “You know what I’m going to say, Dylan.”

“Say something different, then.”

“I can’t do that,” Laurel said. “I do what’s best for your career. You already know Ramona. From your childhood, for god’s sake. She was your first kiss. Is this such a stretch?”

A stretch.

Everything in Hollywood felt like a stretch. The tiniest bend of reality that still seemed to send the whole world askew more times than not.

But Dylan had to admit, professionally speaking, dating Ramona probably was a good idea. With all of Dylan’s bad publicity, with the stakes of this film and her struggles with her role already, with the fact that Dylan did want a new image, she did want to broaden her scope, her reputation, her…

Herstory.

Being with Ramona could only help. It would help her image, sure, but it would also help Dylan. After sitting with Ramona on the beach in that cove, talking with her, hearing about her life, Dylan had become Eloise. She’d done her job and she’d done it well. Ramona was an inspiration, amuse, if Dylan wanted to get dramatic about it.

But that was the thing—it wouldn’t be dramatic. Dating Ramona wouldn’t be wild and messy and packed with betrayal and pools full of champagne.

It would be calm.

Planned.