When her phone rang, she hesitated. She never liked to take calls while conducting business with Steven. But he was looking down at an email and nodded for her to answer. “Tim Heller,” her assistant said. Bridget and Tim had been trading calls.

“I just saw the screener for I Used to Know Her,” said Tim, an officious Brit. “And I was dazzled by Maddy Freed. My next project is Freda Jansons, and I want her to read for me.”

“Tell me more,” Bridget said, though Nancy Watson-Eckstein had sent her the screenplay a few days ago to pass along to Maddy. Bridget had taken a quick glance at it—it was a long and long-winded biopic—but when she saw that the shoot dates conflicted with Husbandry, she had tossed it.

“It’s based on a true story in the 1950s about an autistic scientist,” Tim continued, “who figures out how to cure a senator’s son.” Steven had finished his call and Bridget put Tim on speaker. “It’s a biopic with a lot of freewheeling elements.”

“You know she’s doing the Walter Juhasz in June, July, and August.”

“We go into production in July,” Tim said.

“Well, there you go. She’s unavailable.”

“Has she read the script?”

“Not yet.”

“She should. I’m sure Walter would accommodate—I mean, he’s known for a lot of production delays.”

“You know, Tim,” Bridget said, “I’ll certainly take you up on a general, but I can’t put her in two places at once. Besides, she signed the contract. There’s nothing I can do.”

After she hung up, Bridget looked at Steven. He had changed so rapidly since he’d met Maddy. None of the other girls had affected him like this. His hair seemed thicker and his complexion was ruddy. What those two had together, it wasn’t just sex. When he was in Maddy’s company, he gave her his full attention. He leaned in when she spoke.

“There’s something different about you these days,” Bridget said.

“What?”

“You’re more playful. And you seem healthier. It’s in your step.”

“I cannot tell you how lucky I am to have such a bright, talented woman in my life.”

Bridget inspected her nails and turned to Steven. “It makes me happy to see you so happy. You’re less . . . tethered.”

“I used to think all the time about what other people had to say about me,” he said. “Not now. When you have someone who loves you unconditionally, the less important things fade away.”

“Yes,” Bridget said.

They rode in silence until Steven typed something into his phone. Without looking up, he said, “I didn’t think she signed her Husbandry contract yet.”

Bridget shrugged. “That doesn’t matter.”

He smiled. “You did the right thing. But sometimes you make me want to take a shower.”

“You just said how much she’s changed you. We need to keep her focused on what’s important. And nothing is more important than working with you.”


Maddy was surprised to find that there was a reserved parking spot for her right outside the soundstage. She got out of her Prius, and a production assistant was already coming out to meet her. Had the guard called, or was there someone whose job it was to stare out a window of the building, waiting for the cars to roll up?

The role on Jen was the second she had booked since moving to L.A. and into Steven’s mansion. The first was a psychological thriller, a supporting role as a shrink. Another girl had backed out at the last minute, and Maddy had stepped in. It was only a week’s worth of work, but she got to join the Screen Actors Guild, and when she deposited her $20,000 paycheck in her new Los Angeles banking account, she felt she was building her future. Even if Steven wouldn’t let her help pay for living expenses, and insisted on giving her the Prius and a black credit card, the money from work helped her feel she wasn’t completely dependent.

Maddy’s role on the comedy was Jen’s brother’s new girlfriend—it had a lot of physicality, plus half a dozen great zingers. Less confident in comedy than drama, Maddy was only so-so on her audition and had been shocked when Bridget called to say she’d booked it.

After she walked inside, Maddy was introduced to the costume designer, show runner, makeup, hair, director, assistant director, and a bunch of PAs. A PA took her to her trailer, which was elaborately decked out—it even had a flat-screen TV. On the dining table, she found three beautifully wrapped packages: gifts from the show runner, the director, and the star. A gorgeous black-and-white Hermès scarf, a funky red leather watch, and a basket of expensive bath salts. Each had a tasteful note wishing her luck.

She suspected not every day-player on a rising sitcom got this kind of attention. Such things happened to her frequently these days, expensive gifts from executives, cosmetic companies, and designers coming by messenger to the house.

On set, as the director had shaken her hand, she’d sensed him looking at her too closely. It was a glance she had become accustomed to in her short time as Steven’s “new girl,” a glance she saw at the charity balls and premieres and dinners out. It was a glance that said, Why her?

She had no answer. They just loved each other, that was all. Maddy knew she wasn’t the prettiest or even the youngest girlfriend he had ever had. She couldn’t pinpoint what made her worthy of his love, and yet she believed him when he told her what she meant to him. She didn’t care if she was delusional to think it would last. She felt she would follow him anywhere.

During a long rehearsal, Maddy was shocked to see Bridget and Steven slip into two directors’ chairs by Video Village. She was both honored that he had come and concerned that he might distract her coworkers.

Maddy hurried over on her next break. “How’d you get off the film?” she asked him, pecking him on the cheek.

“I’m a very powerful person,” he said, drawing her close. “Or did you not know that?”

“You’re doing great, honey,” Bridget said. “We’re having such fun watching you.”

“Thank you,” she said, loving his hands on her, getting turned on. “But Steven, you’re causing a fuss.” She nodded toward the set, where the other actors were staring and pretending not to stare. “It’s not fair to those guys.”

“I won’t stay long,” he said. “I just want to catch a few minutes. I love to watch you work.”

His compliment made her feel like a balloon. She realized what it meant to her that he had come. Not only because it showed the cast and crew that he cared, but because he did care.

Back on set, she did her next few takes with elevated energy. Later, when she looked out to see that Bridget was alone again, she felt a twinge of disappointment.

On her lunch break, Maddy went to her trailer and ate a walnut-and-chicken salad that had been prepared by Annette. Bridget, who had come in to sit with her, said, “Your physicality is fantastic. You remind me of Jean Arthur.” Maddy and Steven had watched Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in the screening room of his house, and it had helped her prepare. She wondered if Steven had told Bridget they’d watched it. Then she decided there was a simpler explanation: In two decades of working together, they had a common vocabulary of stars, living and dead. Steven seemed closer to Bridget than anyone else in the world.

“Honey, what is it?” Bridget said, patting her arm.

Maddy set down her fork. “Do you think I got this part because—because of him? So they could bill Maddy Freed as their special guest star? My audition was not that good. I got some of the comedic beats, but the girls in the hallway, they were really funny. They’d all done improv in New York.”

“Maybe it is because of Steven.”

“You say it like that’s okay. How can I know, from this moment on, whether any job I get is deserved?”

“You won’t. Everyone knows you’re Steven’s girlfriend when you walk into an audition room. But you knew you were talented long before you met him. You have range, you can handle different kinds of material, you can use your body as an instrument. If you continue to do everything you do naturally, for most roles, it’ll come down to you and one or two others. At that point, when it’s just a few, anything can tip the scales. The color of your hair. The shape of your mouth. Your chemistry with a costar. If a director likes you because of Steven, that’s no different from another girl booking it because she’s curly and you’re straight. Your talent will get you ninety percent of the way. What gets you the last ten percent of the way is out of your control. Why think about it?” Bridget opened her purse and pulled out a manila folder. “While I have you, you need to sign this. The contract for Husbandry.” Bridget, Nancy, and Maddy’s new lawyer, Edward Rosenman (who was also Steven’s lawyer), had negotiated her a salary of $200,000, far more than Maddy had expected for her first professional feature. Maddy had agreed to full nudity with a merkin, a pubic wig. Bridget had explained that they used merkins on shoots to avoid X ratings; prosthetic hair was an R, but real hair was an X. It sounded ridiculous to put fake hair on top of real hair, but as Bridget liked to point out, that was only one of many ridiculous things about the film industry.

“I can’t believe my first big movie is going to require all this sex,” Maddy said.

“The sex is important to the character,” Bridget said, “and I’ll be there to protect you. And Steven will, too.” After Maddy signed, Bridget said, “Congratulations, my darling. You’ve just signed the contract that is going to make you a star.”

“How do you know that?”