The first thing David noticed about Midtown was that it really didn’t deserve its own name. And he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why it had its own airport.

A town this small had no business having an airport.

Not that it was much of an airport, but it still had to take up at least half of the area code. There were two houses in the distance and a single lane road—David couldn’t tell from here, but it probably wasn’t paved either—that led away from the dinky airport.

The second thing he noticed about Midtown was that Jennifer looked entirely out of place and entirely at home here. She was dressed in a tan jacket over a black turtleneck dress and black leather boots that were polished to a shine. David beamed when he saw her, his step picking up as she approached.

“You’re here,” she said, tone dry, even as she smiled at him, opening her arms for a hug. David squeezed her, laughing at her squeak when he lifted her off the ground.

“You idiot, put me down,” she said. David gave her another squeeze then set her back on her feet. “It’s only been about three weeks since we last saw each other.”

“You say that like it’s not the end of the world,” David said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She gave him a look and elbowed him in the ribs.

“You’ll live, Davie,” she said. “How was your flight?”

“Was that even a real plane?” David asked. “Because I’ve never seen an airport this small. Is it safe? Up to code?”

“You’re alive aren’t you?”

David shrugged. “Where’s baggage claim?”

“This way,” she said, her boots clacking rhythmically as she led the way. When they had retrieved David’s measly belongings, they headed to her car—a bright orange mustang that looked almost absurd in this setting—and then to the hotel where David would be staying.

“You mean you aren’t even going to let me stay at your apartment?” David whined. Jennifer was the kind of woman who picked up a short-term lease wherever she traveled. Hotels, she said, were for those who strived to feed the local bedbug population.

“No way in hell,” Jennifer said, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “We did that once before. Do you remember how it ended?”

“With you threatening to evict me,” he said. “Well, technically you did evict me, actually.”

“I gently suggested that we part ways,” she said. “And we’re still friends because of it.”

That was probably a fair assessment. They didn’t work well as roommates. At all.

“When do I start work, though?” he asked, because, frankly, he didn’t have a lot of money to his name at the moment. His lease was month-to-month, and he’d decided it was easier to drop it when he left and hope that there was still a place for him when he got back from the middle of nowhere. He had to figure out how to afford a plane ticket first.

“Where is this hotel,” he asked.

“It’s a bed and breakfast,” Jennifer said absently, “and it’s not too far from the studio.”

“Is that where I’ll be working? What exactly is a runner?”

“A personal slave, Davie. My personal slave. By the way, I got you an audition.”

“For what?” David asked slowly, unsure if he was excited or horrified.

“That top-secret project I’m working on. There was a casting call last minute. I contacted Katherine and had her send in the tapes.”

“Can she do that? Without my permission?”

“Shut up, you can fire her later if you don’t get the job,” she said. “I knew you’d be hesitant to agree if I told you about it before I convinced you to come here.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it? I thought you said there were some big names?” he asked.

“There are,” she said. “But it’s an urban fantasy, and I thought that you might be a little wary of those at this point.”

“Ugh,” David said, leaning against the window until Jennifer snapped at him not to put faceprints on her car.

“It’s a good chance, Davie, and you got called back,” she said. “You might as well give it a try. The director’s no nonsense; I don’t think she’ll dock you for your past poor choices.”

“You say that…”

“I mean it. Besides, her other actor is a big enough name that I don’t think that your tainted career is enough to overshadow it.”

“In that case it’s ridiculous to even try out!” David said, eyes going wide.

He wondered who the co-star would be. If it was a big name, David had no chance of getting the role in the first place. He thought he was a decent actor, but he wasn’t famous. Not by a long shot. He’d mostly done commercials and modeling up until now.

Actually, he was mostly just a pretty face. It was the eyes. He had angelic eyes. David fluttered his eyelashes for no reason before realizing what he’d done. He glanced at Jennifer out of the corner of his eye but she didn’t seem to have noticed. Good thing she was a good driver who actually kept her eyes on the road. Otherwise that would have been embarrassing.

“Thanks,” David said after a moment. Because what else was there to say? And even if he bombed it, Jennifer had already agreed to give him a job. It was too late for her to go back on her word.

“You better not get comfortable as a runner,” Jennifer said, reading his mind, “because you will be sub-par at it. I want you to work toward getting more acting work. Even if you have to start over from square one.”

“Like getting an insane amount of plastic surgery and changing my name so that no one knows what I was in?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re mean.”

“You love me anyway,” she said, reaching across the middle console to squeeze his knee.

When they reached the Midtown Bed & Breakfast, David realized why she had corrected him.

“Are you sure this isn’t a house?” David asked, reluctant to just waltz in, despite the little plate outside the door that welcomed guests.

“Yes,” she said, “and it’s a lovely place. Mrs. Hamish is a great connection to have.”

Leave it to Jennifer to network in a town so small it didn't even have a real name.

A little bell rang as David entered the establishment and he looked up to see an old fashioned mechanism with an actual bell attached to it. Not like the electronic beeping of the city. If nothing else, David thought he’d enjoy this place for that bell.

It was charming.

And made him want to open and close the door a couple more times. Jennifer grabbed his arm and steered him toward the front counter before he could act on the impulse.

“One moment!” called a voice from somewhere in the house—really, it was a house. David didn’t know how a place that couldn’t have more than five rooms could be a B&B, but he’d stay for the bell.

Mrs. Hamish, it turned out, was a stocky woman with pale, freckled skin, long brown hair tied up in a bun on top of her head, and reading glasses perched on a broad nose. She smiled at him and greeted Jennifer like an old friend.

“This is my friend David Benton,” Jennifer said. “He needs a room for a while. He’ll be staying here during filming.”

“Ah. The blue room, you think?” Mrs. Hamish asked.

Jennifer frowned. “Is the yellow one open?” she asked.

Mrs. Hamish gave him an assessing look, like there was an audition for the room. Then nodded. “Yes, but the blue room has a bigger bed,” she said.

“He won’t need one.”

David didn’t have time to ask why he wouldn’t need one before Mrs. Hamish nodded and checked him into the room, giving him a key painted with yellow daisies. David smoothed his finger over the rough paint and smiled.

That was charming, too. Everything here was so charming, he was beginning to suspect that he might like small towns.

The yellow room was... really yellow. The walls were yellow, the bedspread was yellow, even the curtains were yellow. The floor was hardwood, but it had a yellow rug. There was even a yellow cozy over a box of tissues on the nightstand.

“The bathroom is in there,” Mrs. Hamish said, “and breakfast is served before ten. You have your own fridge and microwave, though, if you’re feeling shy.”

“He doesn’t do shy, so I'm sure you'll see him around,” Jennifer said. “Thank you, Mrs. Hamish.”

Mrs. Hamish beamed and David thanked the woman as she bustled out of the room with a word about how he should call on her if he needed anything.

“When do I start work?”

“Tomorrow,” Jennifer said. “Things are busy around the set with trying to get everything ready.”

“What exactly am I going to be doing?” he asked.

“No idea.” Jennifer shrugged, looking unconcerned. “Whatever I need you to do. Don’t be picky. You’re the one who wanted a job.”

“And what about the audition?”

“In person on Friday. You’ve been short-listed,” she said with a cheery smile that sent a chill down David's back. Someone that cute had no business being as dangerous as as she was. Like one of those little octopuses that looked all adorable and brightly colored as they murdered you.

“Now, go shower so that we can check out the set,” she said. “I’ll wait here.”

“It wasn’t that long a flight,” he said.

“You smell, though,” she said.

“I do not,” he said, even as he dropped his suitcase on the bed and pulled out a fresh set of clothes to go shower.

When he was done, he came out to find Jennifer, unsurprisingly, rifling through his things. Perhaps it started under the guise of putting things away, but she’d ended up cross legged on the bed with an old shoebox in her lap and was systematically examining the contents.

“I look like such a nerd,” Jennifer said, pointing to a picture of them when they were in the fifth grade. “Was this before or after I dumped you?”

“You didn’t dump me, you never even gave me the time of day,” David said, sitting down beside her on the bed. “But that was before. You dumped me in high school.”

“Right,” Jennifer said. “Awe, that’s adorable. You’re so fat!”

“I was a baby!” David protested.

“Still fat,” Jennifer said, “but I just said it was adorable, so stop scrunching your face like that. You’ll turn into a goblin.”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"What does that even mean?" he grumbled.

Jennifer cocked her head to the side. “What’s this?” She pulled out a piece of yellow paper encased in plastic.

“What’s wha—” David made a grab for the plastic sleeve, but Jennifer kneed him in the side when he dove for it.

“Is this the letter?” she screeched in mirth. “You still have it?”

“It’s the only thing a famous person has ever written to me,” David complained, rubbing his bruised ribs. Jennifer took the crumpled yellow stationary paper out of the protective plastic casing and read it. There was no reason for him to be so touchy about it after nearly twenty years, but seeing the letter still gave him anxiety.

“He told you your lyrics suck,” she said. “Clearly, he has good taste.”

“That’s mean, I was five,” David huffed, making another grab for it. Jennifer dodged and ruffled his hair.

“True. Your lyrics aren’t nearly that bad anymore. In fact, I was just reading some of them a moment ago.” She gestured to his lyric notebook, which was sitting neatly on the bedside table.

“You aren’t supposed to read other people’s diaries,” he said, sitting back against the headboard with her.

“It’s not a diary, it’s a notebook. Besides, you like it when I read your lyrics,” she said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t send them to me all the damn time.”

David leaned his shoulder into hers so he could better look at what she was reading. He’d honestly forgotten that it was in there. Seeing it from an adult’s perspective, he could understand that the words probably weren’t as harsh as they had seemed at the time. Louis had been seven and he’d still thanked David for writing, even if he had said that the lyrics sucked and David should reconsider his career.

“What the hell did you write about?” Jennifer asked, pointing to a line referencing the taxonomy of moths.

“Oh, it was about a bird and a moth,” he said. “The bird ate the moth, I think. It was a cool moth, though. During my bug phase.”

“It was a phase?” Jennifer said, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. David chuckled and knocked his shoulder against hers.

“Anyway, that was the end of that,” David said.

“You know, Davie, that’s your problem,” she said. David looked at her blankly until she continued. “You are far too concerned with what other people think of you. Even me. You need to figure out what you want and go for it. Don't give up just because of some negative feedback.”

"I was five!"

"Are you still five?"

David didn’t know how to respond to that.

Ignoring the sway of external feedback was easier said than done. Especially when your livelihood depended on other people’s opinions of you. It wasn’t like David could just do whatever he wanted and make it as an actor. He had to gain the approval of the directors, cast, and crew, not to mention the audience.

That’s what the entertainment business was.

“If you’re done snooping, were we going to go see the set?” David asked, instead of answering her question. Jennifer studied him for a moment with a vaguely disappointed expression before dropping the items back into his shoebox and hopping off the bed.

"All right, let's go. But think about what I said, Davie. Grow a pair."

David rolled his eyes and followed her down to her Mustang.

*****

The studio tour was perfunctory and by the time David was ready to start the next day he'd already forgotten where everything was. Jennifer picked him up in the morning with an admonishment that it would be the last time, so not to get used to her taxi services.

The studio space was probably within walking distance of the B&B, though wouldn't make for a particularly pleasant walk considering there was still snow on the ground—something that might have been delightful if the snow banks weren't died black and brown with mud and whatever else. Weldstone Harbor didn’t get a lot of snow; it was more about rain there. Apparently, Midtown stayed snowy well into February and beyond, if Jennifer was to be believed.

“Filming is scheduled to start in about a week,” Jennifer said on their way over, “so this casting is pretty rushed.”

“Why are we talking about the casting instead of the job I’m supposed to be doing today?”

“Because I’m really hoping that by Friday you’ll have a different job,” she said.

“What role did I audition for, by the way?” It was probably some side character whose contract had fallen through. That was fine, though. Anything was fine at this point.

“It’s only a one-season gig, but it’s a lead role within the season,” she said. “All I can say is that you’re supposed to be a detective in a small town.”

“A lead role?” David said in disbelief. “Jennifer, I’m never going to get a lead role. Even a season lead. Especially if you’ve been serious about the big names in the show.”

Jennifer shrugged. “You will at least try,” she said in a tone brooking no argument. “I know you can charm the pants off a cat, so just be yourself.”

“Not hard. Cats don’t even wear pants.”

“By Friday, you’ll be glad to be rid of me,” Jennifer said with a wicked grin. “Call it a bit of extra motivation.”

*****

It did not take until Friday.

It took David an hour to decide that he did not enjoy being a runner for Jennifer and by the end of his first day he wanted to burst into stress tears.

She was a terror.

Whether because she was actually a really tight assed boss or just because she liked picking on David in particular, David could safely say it was one of the worst jobs he’d ever taken.

By Friday morning, David was determined to give his best audition ever. He was still anxious but he was also desperate and the desperation was an impressively effective motivator. In fact, he was considering calling up Katherine and asking her to get him in for that STI awareness commercial, despite the memes he could see coming from it.

David had prepared the portion of the script that he was supposed to be reading. It was a scene where the main character, “Don Christoph (vampire),” was asking “Detective Marcus Lazarus (human)” to help on a case. He was just going to go in there, read the script and then be on his way. No big deal. It wasn't like his life and sanity depended on it.

“Welcome, David, I’m Nabila Salim, the show runner and director of the series,” a tall woman with long brown hair and tawny skin said as he entered the room for his audition.

David gave her his best smile. Jennifer had spoken highly of Nabila, to the point where David wondered if she might have a thing for the director. It was certainly unusual for her to work on a project like this unless she was majorly incentivized.

“It’s a pleasure,” David said, shaking her hand.

“And this is Louis Greene, he’ll be playing the role of Don Christoph.”

David’s blood turned to ice water as he caught sight of the man standing off to the side. He hoped his face wasn't as red as it looked as images of moths and birds bombarded him and he remembered just how starstruck he'd been with Louis Greene when he was five and how he was feeling every bit as star struck right now.

David was a little faint.

Louis Greene was everything that David had imagined he would be and more. His dark hair was neatly combed to the side and his jaw was fashionably stubbled, cutting a sharp line against his ivory skin. Even the thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose looked fashionable. He took a step forward and reached out a hand to David.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, as David hesitantly took his hand. He even smelled fashionable. Like something deep and something sharp all at once.

“Yeah,” David forced out, too focused on the fact that he was touching Louis Greene’s hand. He tried to smile, but had a feeling that he probably just looked ill. Louis lips twitched down in a small frown as he dropped David’s hand and turned to a chair off to the side of the room.

“We’ll just do a quick run through of the scene and then you can be on your way,” Nabila said, gesturing David to a stool in the center of the room. “We’ll get back to you soon so keep your eyes open.”

“Thank you,” David said, his voice suddenly dry.

Was Louis Greene really the big name Jennifer had mentioned? And was he really auditioning across from Louis Greene right now?

David perched on the edge of the stool and cleared his throat, at least twenty percent of his brain power focusing on keeping his leg from bouncing where it rested on one of the rungs.

“All right, we’ll be reading from page six,” Nabila said, “starting with Don Christoph, ‘I don’t see the use of having you here.’ Go.”

“I don’t see the use of having you here,” Louis said. David’s eyes were so caught up in the way his mouth moved when he spoke that he completely forgot to look at his script. A moment passed before he realized why he couldn’t find his lines.

“Sorry, sorry, I was on the wrong page,” David muttered, flipping frantically through the script to find the right page. His face was definitely turning red.

“That’s all right,” Nabila assured, “whenever you’re ready.”

“All right, sorry,” David said when he’d finally found the lines they were reading. He couldn’t remember the last time he messed up this badly in an audition.

“Louis, again,” Nabila said.

“I don’t see the use of having you here,” Louis said again, eyes piercing David as he sat at the center of the room. David took a deep breath, trying to force himself into character, but it was harder than it usually was.

Probably because Louis Greene was currently glaring at him from across the room.

“I have every right to be here. This is my town and my investigation.” David’s voice faltered, and he could already feel heat flushing his cheeks. Weak, David thought. That was a terrible reading. Louis was probably wondering why he was even here auditioning.

Damn Jennifer. She couldn’t have warned him that it was going to be Louis Greene here? Even after seeing that letter? He could feel the uncomfortable prickle of sweat against his neck.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, detective,” Louis said, voice sharp and intent. David had no trouble seeing Louis as a the vampire lord he was portraying, full of distain and judgement. With those dark eyes riveted on him, David could hardly breathe. It was like that seven-year-old’s judgment only worse.

This time, David was actually here in person to make a fool of himself. The only comfort was that there was no way Louis remembered him as the stupid kid who had written him a song about a moth.

“I w-won’t be—” David stuttered. His mind had completely lost its track, and he wasn’t sure where he was in the script, either. A wave of blind panic had his vision spotting and cold sweat dampening the script clutched in his hand. “Sorry, I—” David’s voice caught even on that, face burning as he looked at the slight frown on Louis's face. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m cut out for this role, after all.” David gave them his best smile then walked out the door with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself when the door shut behind him. He didn’t stop until he had reached Jennifer’s office. It was empty, but David just sat down on the floor by the desk and buried his head in his knees, trying to slow his heart. He had never been this mortified in his life, and that was saying something.

David pulled out the lyric notebook he kept in the back pocket of his jeans and flipped through it to an empty page and scribbled out the lyrics.

Those eyes disguised a snake-head faux

My Pretty atlas wing

The weight of worlds on two dark rings

Devouring all you know

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there when Jennifer walked in, nearly tripping over him. To her credit, she didn’t berate him, just sat down beside him and tucked her arm around his, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“There’ll be a next time, Davie,” she muttered.

“I don’t think you understand quite how badly I blew it in there,” David choked out. “I swear to god, I can never show my face in this town again.”

“It’s not that bad,” she said, “no one will even notice you as my runner. And if they do, I can make you into a werewolf.”

David gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I don’t know that that’ll be enough to hide my shame.”

“What’s that?” she asked, pulling the notebook over from where David had it resting by his knee. She flipped through the pages with a frown.

“Revisiting memories,” David said with a harsh laugh. Jennifer sighed before tapping him on the head with the notebook.

“You need to get over him,” she said.

“You make it sound like he’s a long lost love,” David said, glaring at her.

Jennifer shrugged. “He kind of is. He’s your demon. You might eventually win his approval, but you might not. You’ll succeed when you finally stop caring.”

“How do you stop caring, though?”

“I can’t answer that.”

David’s head fell back against the desk with a clunk and Jennifer gave his arm a squeeze.

*****

David didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the morning, trying to keep his head down and avoid anyone who might have witnessed his utter humiliation. It was surprisingly easy, actually. No one seemed to care at all about what David did or who he was. He was wearing a hoodie and glasses partially as a disguise, but mostly because it made Jennifer give him a really pained look every time she saw him. It was one of those small pleasures in life that David had to take advantage of lest he decide to run away and seclude himself forever atop a mountain.

By the time lunch rolled around, though, David was fairly certain that he was more angry than upset about the audition fiasco. He usually wasn’t terrible and he blamed most of today’s catastrophe on being blindsided by Louis Greene. It may have been part of Jennifer’s plan—one could never really put anything past her—or she may have just neglected to mention that he was the other lead because of contract obligations or because she hadn’t realized how much it would mess with David to see him there.

By the time Jennifer finally joined him in the cafeteria, he was full blown sullen. She took one look at him and told him that if he didn’t stop pouting she was going to find someone more pleasurable to eat with. David had replied that that was fine with him and she’d sat down with him anyway.

“You could have warned me, you know,” he said, pulling the notebook out of his pocket and then tearing the page with the new poem out so it didn’t sully the rest of his work—not that the rest of his work was more than a collection of scribbles to begin with.

Jennifer took a bite of her pasta before she spoke. “I could have warned you, yes, but then you wouldn’t have even gone in there,” she said. “It was a miscalculation on my part. I didn’t think he’d be a part of the casting process at this point, but I guess they wanted it to double as a chemistry read.”

“So you were going to wait until after the audition to tell me?” David said.

“I was going to wait until after you had had a good audition with Nabila, to tell you,” she said. “But I would have told you before you had a screen test or anything with Louis. That way you’d have seen that you can do this, but at the same time, you wouldn’t be blindsided by it. As I said, it was a miscalculation on my part.”

“I’m not really sure if that’s encouraging or not,” he said. “I appreciate your faith in me, but I wouldn’t be so sure that I’d have gotten a screen test even if I hadn’t shot myself in the foot.”

“Well, you haven’t seen yourself act,” she said. “I mean it when I say that you’re good. You just have the shittiest luck I’ve ever seen.”

“Uh, thanks I guess.”

“What are you scribbling out now?” she asked, snatching his paper away from him. “Really? Why are you writing this again? Burn it. In fact, I’ll burn it for you.” Jennifer made to pull something out of her purse but David snatched the page away before she could do any harm.

“I’m working on it because it won’t leave my head,” he said. “It’s not because of him.”

It was probably definitely because of him, but she didn’t need to know that. Not that she looked particularly convinced anyway, but plausible deniability was key.

“Why a moth?”

“Because, despite their size and the way their wings mimic a snake, they are still at the bottom of the food chain. Almost every predator will eat them. It’s both pitiful and inspiring,” he paused. “At least, that’s why I like them now, at the time they were just really cool, you know? Giant moths.”

“Mothman,” she said, nudging his leg under the table, “don’t get yourself eaten.”

“Shut up,” David said, snatching the paper away and setting it out of view on the bench so she couldn’t reach it again.

“He’s forgotten about you,” she said, “so forget about him.”

David ignored her, looking imperiously back down at his lunch. “What else do we have to do today?”

“After lunch, you get to help me mix resin,” she said. “There are measuring cups, so I’m hoping you don’t screw it up too badly.”

“Thank you for your faith.”

Jennifer looked at him with utter seriousness and David rolled his eyes. “It’s that or I’ll send you into the city for coffee.”

“No.”

“You do know how to drive,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but farmers in trucks scare me and the idea of scratching your Mustang scares me even more.”

“Whatever. Finish eating so that we can get out of here.”

By the time he realized that he’d left his lyrics sitting on the bench, he was back at Mrs. Hamish’s B&B, tucked under a painfully yellow bedspread.

It was probably fine, though. No one would have thought twice about a crumpled paper. The janitor had probably already thrown it away.

And if he hadn’t, well, David could check the cafeteria in the morning.