Page 37 of Romance Is Dead

My dreams that night were full of shadows.

I was on set in the house, except I was alone.

I moved from one room to another, each one filled with more fantastical set dressings than the one before.

The dining room was made to look like a vintage circus, the second-floor bedroom set to resemble a Victorian greenhouse.

I was alone, except for the creeping presence of something that hid in the dark corners.

Something I couldn’t see but that I was certain was coming after me. After blood.

My blood.

Waking with a start, it took me a minute to calm my racing heart. It had felt so real, like something had actually been after me. And then I realized with a start that it was true. A person who’d already proved capable of murder was after me.

I glanced at the time on my phone — time to get up.

Chloe and I had made plans to grab coffee before she checked out of the hotel and headed to the airport.

And considering her last day on set had included her being berated by the director and attacked by another cast mate, I doubted she wanted to stick around longer than she had to.

After quickly pulling on leggings and a sweatshirt with Candyman on it, I brushed my teeth and slipped out of my room. Starting down the hall, I heard the crying as soon as I rounded the corner. It was soft but unmistakable — and coming from Chloe’s room.

Carefully, I pushed open the door and peered inside.

Chloe sat on the bed, knees pulled to her chest as she cried into her arms. An open suitcase lay next to her, like she’d been in the process of filling it before collapsing into tears.

Her makeup smeared and hair pulled up in a messy bun, she jumped when she noticed me.

“Oh!” She wiped her eyes. “I didn’t know you were here already.”

“Are you ok?” Mentally, I kicked myself. Of course she wasn’t.

“Sorry, I was getting ready for our coffee date and it suddenly all hit me. This just wasn’t how I pictured this movie going.”

I laughed humorlessly. “Me either. Murder mysteries are supposed to stay in the script, not jump into real life.”

“It’s not just that.” Chloe rubbed her eyes, smearing tears across her cheek. “This was supposed to be my big break and I did a shit job.”

“What are you talking about? You absolutely didn’t.” I was being honest. Even before our scene together in the library, I’d been impressed by her acting chops.

“Natasha reamed me out yesterday.”

I rolled my eyes. “Natasha reams everyone out. I think you did a great job. Yesterday and all the days.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “It’s not you. I know Natasha and I’ve never seen her act like this. I mean, did you hear how she went after Brent?”

At the mention of our former cast mate, Chloe burst into fresh tears. She was full-on wailing now, burying her head in her arms and heaving with sobs. It took me off guard. Brent’s death had shaken me, too, but I wasn’t about to cry over it.

“I didn’t know you and Brent were so close.”

Chloe lifted her head. “Well, according to him we weren’t.”

“What does that mean?”

She hesitated, hiccupping as she tried to slow her crying.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me,” I hurried to add.

Chloe took a deep, shaky breath. “I did something stupid. Really stupid.”

“Oh?”

“I shouldn’t have done it,” she continued, “but. . . Brent and I were sleeping together.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage. “Since when?”

“The first night. On set, too, up in the attic.” She laughed. “I know what you’re thinking: wow, she moves fast.”

“I didn’t think that.”

Instead, I was thinking that now we knew exactly why we’d found Brent’s sweatshirt up there. That must explain why he had lied about being in the house that night — because he didn’t want people knowing about him and Chloe.

What a dick.

“He broke up with me, you know,” Chloe continued. “Two days before he died. He said he wanted to ‘keep his options open.’” She made exaggerated air quotes with her fingers, twisting her expression into one of mockery. “He was full of shit.”

My heart tugged. If anyone understood the perils of trying to date in this industry, I did. “Any guy who pulls a line like that isn’t worth it.” Out of comforting words, I sat with her and rubbed her back as she cried it out. When her sobs slowly died down, she finally pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t stop crying.” She sniffled. “Actors, you know?”

I nodded. “I do.”

Chloe laughed weakly. “I think this might have put me off acting for good.”

“Don’t say that. The movie’s going to be huge, and you’re one of the stars.”

I knew it was hypocritical — me, of all people, urging someone not to give up.

But I also understood the desperation to be successful, the way the industry could work its hooks into you.

Since Scott told us that the production might be shut down, I’d caught myself no less than three times having panicky thoughts about the fallout: would people think it was my fault?

Would my reputation be irreparably damaged? Would anyone want to hire me again?

I had to keep reminding myself that it didn’t matter.

“Maybe.” Chloe looked doubtful. “It just seems so cutthroat. Like no one in this industry can be trusted.”

“Like who?”

“Brent for one, Audrey for two.” She ticked the names off on her fingers. “And if you want a real shock, check out the name Eerie Poodle when you get the chance.”

Eerie Poodle? I made a note to look it up later. “Audrey coming after you like that did surprise me. What happened?”

Even though we were alone in her room, Chloe lowered her voice and leaned in close. “Do you know what I caught her throwing away right after Brent died? A bag of peanuts. That’s why she came after me yesterday. Because I told her I’d seen.”

“Did you tell the police?”

She shook her head, a silent no. “I was afraid.” Her voice was barely audible. “I didn’t want her to know I told anyone.”

Before we could continue, my phone buzzed.

I checked the screen — a text from Mara.

It was a link to one of Austin’s Instagram posts, a photo of him and his new girlfriend, who happened to be one of the biggest up-and-coming actresses in the biz.

They were both topless in his palatial bedroom, the woman curved against Austin’s chest as his tattooed arms held her close.

Ugh, poor Mara. I closed the message, making a mental note to reply later.

Chloe noticed me checking the device. “Is that your man?” She grinned at my puzzled look. “Come on, I see the way you and Teddy look at each other.”

My stomach sank. We’d been that obvious? “There’s nothing going on between us.”

“If you say so. Probably for the best. I wouldn’t want my boyfriend going on another dating reality show either.”

“What do you mean?” This was news to me. But then, I guess we hadn’t talked about our plans for after the film. Why would we?

“He’s filming that show over the winter, isn’t he?” Chloe looked at me carefully. “That’s what he told me when we had lunch the other day. Love by the Stars , I think it’s called. Something about matching people up by their zodiac signs.”

“Oh.” I said, my throat weirdly thick. “Good for him.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. That was the type of person Teddy was: a hot guy who enjoyed being famous for being hot on TV. I knew that whatever was happening between us had a firm expiration date. I knew that.

So why was my heart sinking?

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up.” Chloe stood, dabbing at her eyes and reaching for her clothes to finish packing. “Now let’s grab that coffee. I have to leave for the airport in an hour.”

As we stepped into the hall, I pulled out my phone.

I was dying to know who this “Eerie Poodle” was that Chloe had referenced.

Google pointed me to the user’s TikTok, a gossip account focused on spreading rumors about celebrities — one that I immediately recognized from my own experiences with media onslaught.

I clicked on the profile photo, curious to see the face of whoever got their kicks from putting other people down.

It was a young man, tipping a bowler hat down to protect his face. And there on his wrist was a friendship bracelet, one that was starting to look very familiar.