“You’re gonna fund it yourself?” Janna asked.

I’d gone over the figures. Benito had not been stingy with my salary. If necessary, I had enough to keep us rolling for two weeks.

That said, it would clean me out, and since this was mine, mine, mine, and he didn’t factor in anymore, I considered that money mine. So I was hoping for a week because I needed that extra to actually eat.

“Yes,” I answered.

Glances were exchanged through a general shifting of feet.

“And you’re not Tallulah Monroe, your name is Rebel Stapleton, but you were Tally because . . . what? You weren’t down with putting your real name on a porn film?” Dryden asked, sounding unhappy.

I looked behind me to where Rush was standing wearing his cut with his arms crossed on his chest, scowling at Dryden.

I looked back at Dryden.

“My best friend was Diane Ragowski. Some of you probably knew her and if you didn’t know her by her real name, you knew her as Chantilly,” I announced.

There was a lot more glancing around, shifting of feet, and I felt them focus more fully on me and they’d already been giving me a lot of focus.

A lot of them knew her.

Or of her.

And what happened to her.

“I loved her,” I carried on. “I wanted justice for her. I’ll be honest with you, a foray into pornography wasn’t part of my hoped-for career trajectory. But my friend was murdered. I’m not going to explain what I was doing, you can probably figure it out. I’ll just say I had to do it. But the worst part of doing it was lying to all of you. You’re talented professionals. I’m proud of my team. I’m proud of the work we’ve done. This is why I haven’t bowed out. I want to finish what we started. I want our work to be seen and appreciated. And in future, even if my future is not in this branch of the industry, I hope to work with you all again.”

No one said anything when I stopped so I kept going.

“That’s what I’ve got. My understanding is any contracts you had with Mr. Valenzuela will also be transferred to our new owners. But I’ll say if you don’t feel you can carry on considering all of this, you can speak to me and I’ll let you out of your agreements and find a way to replace you.” I looked to Shaughnessy, then to Dryden. “Unless you’re principals. And I’m sorry to say the pressure is on you because if you back out, this film is done, and everyone will be done with it.”

“I’m not backing out,” Shaughnessy called out then looked at Dryden. “And you aren’t either.”

“I didn’t say I was backing out,” Dryden returned to Shaughnessy. “Just wanted to be clear we’re all in this because we believe in it.”

“I believe in it, Dry, I assure you,” I told him.

He nodded. “Works for me.”

Thank God.

I turned to Rush and mouthed, “Another hour?”

He jerked up his chin.

I turned back to my team. “I’ll be here for an hour. If you feel you need to move on, we’ll talk in my office. Everyone else, shut down and someone will be in touch. If all goes well, we’re back up, Monday at nine o’clock. I’ll send scene and script notes through email on Thursday.”

I got nods, more shuffling of feet, but again, no one said anything.

“We’re done. Thanks, everybody. And if I don’t speak to you, see you Monday,” I concluded.

People broke into huddles and started murmuring.

I went to Rush, got his hand on my waist the minute I got close, and he muttered, “Did good, baby.”

“Come to my office?” I asked.

“You bet,” he said.

We went to my office.

I sat behind my desk, an old metal one (Benito’s generosity didn’t extend to office furniture) and Rush stretched out in the sole tatty chair that was across from me.

There was a square window that looked out into the space.

I stared through it, my body tense.

But all I saw was folks moving around, covering equipment and monitors, turning off makeup mirrors, rolling garment racks.

“None of them are gonna quit.”

I looked to where Rush was sprawled in the chair. “Sorry?”

“None of them are gonna quit, Rebel. Things might be up in the air, but they wanna see this through and they believe in you. You tell ’em production is gonna start again in less than a week, they believe production is gonna start in less than a week. They got a job. They got a paycheck coming. You’ve given them warning they’re gonna have to sort themselves out after that, but they got some time to do that. So they’re all gonna be here on Monday.”

I looked back out the window in time to see Dryden, his arm slung along Shaughnessy’s shoulders, strolling by calling. “See you Monday.”

I lifted a hand to wave. “See you guys Monday.”

“Later, uh . . . Rebel,” Shaughnessy said.

“Later,” I replied.

Shaughnessy smiled at me. “Rebel’s the only name more kickass than Tallulah.”

I smiled back, relief—real relief this might work—starting to invade.

Over the next ten minutes, this happened with half a dozen more of my cast and crew, before I noticed Janna making an approach.

I drew in breath, though this didn’t surprise me. Janna was really good at what she did. She did all hair and makeup and costuming. She had a way with hair and makeup, but her real talent was in putting clothes together, making them look good but doing it in a way it subtly but assuredly helped to define a character. Half the class of the films we’d done so far was about her making the actors look classy.

She could easily get a job elsewhere. A stylist at a store. Starting up her own shop. Moving to another production.

She was one of the few who really didn’t have to hang for a week without pay then come back only to be let go in a couple of weeks.

It still would suck without her, and I wondered if I could pay her to draft boards for the rest of the scenes that needed filming so we could at least dress our actors.

I forced myself to seem light and casual when she hit the door.

“Hey, Janna,” I greeted.

“Hey, uh, Rebel. Can I have a minute?” she asked.

I looked out the window.

More folks were passing by, waving, nodding, but now also looking curiously at Janna.

I turned my attention back to Janna.

“Sure,” I said.

She gave Rush a careful look.

I smiled at her. “He doesn’t bite. Let me introduce you. Rush, this is hair, makeup and costume, Janna Adrian. Janna, this is my boyfriend, Rush Allen.”

They looked to each other, and Janna didn’t appear any less careful, in fact she was more so, when Rush stood, held out a hand and muttered, “Nice ta meet ya.” Then he offered, “Take my chair.”

Something new.

My man.

A gentleman biker.

Nice.

“I . . .” she took his hand, let it go, “okay, sure.”

She then took his seat, sitting on the very edge of it.

Rush assumed his position with shoulders against the wall behind her, watching her attentively.

“I understand, Janna,” I assured in order to make this easier on her since she seemed so nervous.

“I’m not licensed,” she blurted.

I stared at her.

She kept blabbing.

“I didn’t mind pulling one over on Rodrigo. Rodrigo was a jerk. So I didn’t mind lying to him, or Mr. Valenzuela, though I kinda did with Mr. Valenzuela since he’s scary. But I was small potatoes to him. He wouldn’t care. But since they’re gone, and it’s you, I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t have my cosmetology license. In hair or makeup. And I didn’t work as a stylist at Nordstrom for three years.”

“I . . . uh . . .” I mumbled, surprised at this news, and in light of it, wondering where she got her mad skills.

“I’d like to . . . like to . . . stay. Finish the movie. But I understand if you want to let me go.”

Well, thank God.

I leaned into my forearms on my desk and smiled at her. “I don’t wanna let you go. You’re really good. I’m not sure we could finish without you.”