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a familiar tug of longing for this city I loved.
    Could I manage a stop at Fifth Avenue and see if the summer handbags had arrived at Bergdorf’s, where I had an Alessandro Dell’ Acqua embroidered clutch on order? I checked my slim diamond Rolex. No, no time. When would I fit Bergdorf’s into my schedule?
    Facial.
    Manicure/pedicure.
    High tea.
    Ah ... afternoon shopping! There would be time before the obligatory dinner with the ’rents. And to think I wanted a man in my life! It would be nice to have someone special for evening occasions, but honestly, there wasn’t a minute of free time in my schedule.
    Really. For a girl in her twenties, I was way overbooked.
    Someone hand me a cappuccino, please. The ennui is killing me.

4
    Hailey
    I need more work. Why aren’t they signing me on for another thirteen weeks?
    Why hasn’t anyone mentioned a new contract?
    Why hasn’t my agent called?
    Do I have coffee breath?
    Insecurities shuddered through me as I held my mark on the set of All Our Tomorrows , waiting to finish up for the day. I would be finished by one o’clock—a sad summary of my life.
    Finished.
    We had already taped the two scenes that were Dullsville for my character. In today’s episode, Ariel was hanging out in the restaurant of the Indigo Hills Inn, sipping a Cherry Coke and listening attentively while other characters unloaded their problems. I had to nod and ooze sympathy while Bella worried that her parents would notice she’d been skipping school all semester to noodle with her boyfriend. Then there was old man Gellers, lamenting how much he missed his wife, Trixie, who had passed away last year. It was the one-year anniversary of Trixie’s death—the actress having gone on to play a grandmother in a sitcom—and in today’s episode the writers were flashing back to scenes of Trixie’s life, mostly to capitalize on the actress’s newfound popularity.
    Across the set, my friend Rory banged out a rendition of “Surrey With the Fringe on Top” on the piano. Today Rory/Stone was performing at the Indigo Inn, tickling the ivories in the background while the characters lamented their problems.
    I leaned on the simulated oak bar of the restaurant and yawned. We were between takes, and today’s director, Percy Blake, didn’t want any of us to leave our positions. Group scenes are tricky to tape, orchestrating the moves of a dozen or so players; if the actors are allowed to leave the set, chances are someone will return with an altered hairstyle, a new shade of lipstick, a donut crumb on their collar—some telltale change that will stick out when the editors try to cut the scenes together.
    â€œOk, then, ladies and gentlemen.” Percy paused, pressing his fingertips against his lips. He’s one of those gorgeous black men who exude charm and creativity, always a pleasure to work with. When it comes to containing Deanna, Percy is a pro. Fortunately, she wasn’t in any of my scenes today, so I didn’t have to face her and follow up on the nasty shoe comment. Percy came out of his trance. “I think we’re ready to move on to our Act Six scenes.”
    â€œAct Six, Scene Two!” Sean announced. “We have Bella approach the piano and confide in Stone. Lizzie Slate meeting Doc Willoughby at the door.”
    â€œAh, yes!” Ian Horwitz waggled his eyebrows at Susan Lazlo, who plays Lizzie. “I believe this is the scene in which I diagnose you with a debilitating disease based on the dry condition of your cuticles.”
    Susan folded her hands and took her place without comment. She’s a short-term contract player, like me, and you never hear her complain (though I can imagine what she’s thinking!).
    â€œAnd ...” Sean continued, “we have Ariel crossing to Kostas in the corner booth.”
    At last! The scene I’d been waiting for: my first significant exchange with the