Hes Trading Favors What Does That Have to Do With Us
Avery listened to the screenwriter, Jude Finch, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "I can help you get in touch with him," she said, "but I can't guarantee he'll be able to fly out for the surgery."
She had Graham West's number, sure, and they'd shared the same mentor in medical school, but that hardly made them close.
He was more than a dozen years older, and their connection was pretty much limited to a polite hello if they happened to cross paths at an academic conference.
Besides, Graham was in a totally different league.
She was barely out of med school, but he was the Department Director at the National Heart Center.
The man's time was gold. He barely had time for his own office hours, often rushing from the operating room straight back to his research institute.
Avery chewed on her lip for a second. "You know, there are other doctors in the country who are just as good at this procedure. Have you thought about looking for someone else?"
She wasn't trying to blow him off, but getting Graham was a long shot.
In all the time she'd known of him, she'd never once heard of him traveling for a surgery.
Finding another doctor, though? That she could do. Her cousin, Cole, had a friend who was the Director of Cardiac Surgery at CSU Hospital, a guy with world-class skills. And since they were already in California, Jude could just drive over and talk to the man himself.
Jude wasn't naive. He'd had his people trying to get an appointment with Dr. West for three weeks, and they'd been shot down every time.
He'd only brought it up with Avery on the off-chance their shared mentor might give him an edge.
He hadn't expected her to agree to help, only to immediately signal that it was probably hopeless.
"Is Dr. West really that hard to book?" Jude asked, not quite ready to give up.
Avery nodded. "He's swamped. He just doesn't have time to fly out for surgeries."
Jude paused. "So besides him, who else would you recommend?"
Avery didn't hesitate. "The Director of Cardiac Surgery at CSU Hospital. He's a specialist in valvular heart disease and has made some major breakthroughs in the field."
A spark of hope flickered in Jude's eyes. "Could you help me get an appointment?" he asked carefully. "The thing is, my mother can't travel to California. The doctor would have to fly to Fairview."
"I can ask him tonight," Avery agreed easily. "But like I said, it all comes down to his schedule." She could only pass along the request, not guarantee a result.
Jude's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you," he breathed. "I'd really owe you one."
Once they were done with business, Avery politely asked about his mother's condition.
A little while later, the makeup artist finished, and Avery leaned toward the mirror, staring at the face looking back at her.
It was... weird. No matter the makeup, she usually looked sharp, put-together.
But now, she was all scruff and grime, a vaguely shady-looking character she didn't recognize. She definitely wasn't used to it.
"Ha! So you *can* look ugly after all," Leo Foster boomed from beside her, pointing at her reflection and reveling in her misfortune.
Avery glared, then yanked him in front of the mirror. "Don't laugh. You're no prize pig yourself." *Two can play at that game*, she thought.
Leo stared at his own grimy reflection, held back a laugh for all of a second, then blew a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. "I'm naturally gorgeous," he declared. "You could cake me in an inch of mud and this face would still shine through."
His narcissism was so potent it almost made her teeth hurt. She couldn't be bothered.
Avery pulled out her phone and sent Leo the recording she'd made at *The Gilded Spoon*'s production office, the one of the casting director trying to replace her. "Later," she said, "don't forget to help me get my three-times-salary penalty."
Leo tapped play on his phone, his eyes widening. "You actually recorded it?"
Avery shot him a look. "What did you expect? This is proof they breached the contract. How am I supposed to collect the penalty without it?"
She had a habit left over from her lawyer days: a hairclip with a built-in recorder.
You can't prove some things with just words; you need evidence.
The second that casting director from *The Gilded Spoon* started showing his true colors, she'd instinctively switched it on.
With that, Avery turned and left the dressing room.
As she pushed aside the heavy curtain at the door, she saw a woman in a black coat standing next to Director Simon Vance.
She was maybe thirty, talking animatedly with him.
The scene, an army marching off to war, hadn't started filming yet, so Avery was looking for a place to sit for a minute.
Out of nowhere, a man in a leather jacket shot out from the crew and grabbed the front of her beggar costume.
The force of it caught her completely off guard, yanking her forward and nearly pulling her to the ground.
Rage flared through her. Before she even got a clear look at his face, she snapped her elbow back in a sharp, practiced motion, a move Wyatt Riggs had taught her, and slammed it into his ribs.
The man staggered back, gasping, but his grip on her costume stayed iron-tight, like he was terrified she'd bolt.
"Director Lynch! Over here! I've got her!"
The sharp, frantic shout cut through the set noise. Avery finally got a good look at the man she'd just elbowed. It was the casting director from *The Gilded Spoon*. The guy had a piercing voice. At his shout, both Simon Vance and the woman beside him whipped their heads around to look.
"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jude Finch was the first to react, rushing forward. "We're about to film here! You can't just run onto our set and start trouble!"
But wherever Avery went these days, Shane Croft was never far behind.
Even if he wasn't in sight, he was always close.
And sure enough, Shane was faster than Jude.
He materialized out of the chaos, grabbing the casting director, wrenching his arm behind his back, and driving a knee into the man's spine in one brutally fluid motion.
Before anyone could even process what happened, the casting director was pinned facedown on the ground, completely neutralized.
Jude, meanwhile, was still yelling, pointing a finger at the man on the ground. "Are you blind? Don't you see we're about to roll? Every minute you waste is costing us money!"
Nearby, Simon Vance watched Jude's performance and chuckled to himself.
*Nice try, Finch.* If he was going to pretend to stick up for Avery, he could at least try to be convincing.
They'd all just had dinner with Perry Bell, the casting director, a few days ago.
Acting like he didn't know the guy was just hilariously obvious.
Apparently, Simon wasn't the only one who saw through the act.
Miranda Lynch, the director of *The Gilded Spoon*, saw it too.
The relief on her face at finding Avery curdled into suspicion.
She shot Simon a glare, her eyes flashing with the distinct annoyance of someone who knows they've been played.
After all, he'd just told her he hadn't seen Leo or Avery.
Simon just smiled, completely unbothered at being caught in the lie.
Miranda strode toward him. "Leo came to see you, didn't he? Did he tell you what happened on my set?"
Simon met her gaze calmly. "He did. Said you were messing with him."
At that, Miranda's expression hardened, her whole face tightening. Ignoring the man still pinned to the ground, she walked straight over to Avery.
"Miss Hayes, I apologize," she said, her voice smooth and practiced. "What happened today was handled poorly by my team. That role was always meant for you. Our casting director acted on his own, trying to pull a favor for someone, and that's what caused this mess."
Miranda Lynch knew when to fold. She reined in her attitude and, without a flicker of hesitation, humbled herself to a newcomer who hadn't even debuted yet.
It was a strategic move, shifting the blame squarely onto the casting director, throwing Perry Bell under the bus to smooth things over.
That's how this business worked. Actors had to consider their backers, directors had to answer to investors, but at the end of the day, the advertisers held all the cards.
Leo himself didn't have much clout, but the brands backing him could make or break a show. You couldn't afford to piss them off.
"So he's trading favors. What's that got to do with us? Keep your mess over there." Before Avery could even open her mouth, Leo chimed in, arrogant as ever. He couldn't resist acting like he owned the place.
Avery shot Leo a look that said *shut up* and subtly stepped in front of him.
She turned back to Miranda, a polite, unreadable smile on her face.
"Director Lynch, it was just a bit part. You didn't need to come all this way. If your casting director feels I'm not right for the role, I certainly don't want to hold up your production."
Unlike Leo, she planned on sticking around in this industry, and that meant not burning bridges, at least not publicly. Anyone could say a few polite words. It was all about keeping up appearances.
As for what happened behind the scenes? Well, she had her own ways of keeping score.