制霸好莱坞

After days of relentless rehearsal, Jenny's solo repertoire had finally earned the director's approval, and she officially began preparing for the stage. Although her audition performance had stunned everyone, rehearsals revealed small flaws that required constant correction. Her foundational skills needed work, and she spent long hours in the rehearsal hall refining them through grueling repetition.

The relentless practice tested her willpower. If not for her paycheck arriving on time, Jenny wasn't sure she could have endured it. After all, this wasn't the film role she had dreamed of—it was a musical. If she hadn't suspected that Cesare had a grander plan in motion, one that would eventually bring her back to film, she might have walked away. Over time, she had developed a reluctant trust in him, but the physical exhaustion, persistent hunger, and workplace politics were overwhelming.

Now, she understood why major stars developed reputations for being difficult. The combination of extreme fatigue and pressure could drive anyone to irritability. Money alone wasn't enough to compensate for the toll. If frustration remained bottled up for too long, it was bound to explode somewhere—just never at the director or fellow actors of similar status. Instead, frustrations were often taken out on assistants or lesser-known performers, which explained the endless backstage feuds in the entertainment industry.

For now, Jenny maintained self-control, using the performing arts space to extend her rest periods. As long as she didn't overuse it—seven or eight hours in real-time or excessive empathy immersion—she avoided migraines. Often, she simply lay on the sofa in a daze, letting her mind go blank. Eventually, she would muster the strength to face the cutthroat environment again.

As full-cast rehearsals began, she focused on marking her scenes, practicing choreography under the stage manager's direction, and running scenes with Dietrich. She also posed for promotional photos. According to the schedule, dress rehearsals would start in a week, with James and others likely attending. If everything went smoothly, she would debut as Roxie in the February season. The current promotional materials were just the beginning of the "Our Roxie is Better" campaign.

Though tedious, these tasks were far more engaging than the monotonous drills of singing the same lines repeatedly. They also provided more opportunities to interact with Dietrich, though Jenny remained cautious. She had a history of playing the long game. When she discovered that her ex-husband's mistress was a close friend of his, she had still smiled and chatted with the woman at dinner parties—only to drop the bombshell in front of her in-laws during the divorce proceedings.

Unlike her ex-husband's mistress, Dietrich hadn't explicitly wronged her, but Jenny remained on guard. She stuck to her own food, drinking only from the tap rather than bottled water. She kept social interactions with Dietrich and her circle to a minimum, careful not to make her wariness obvious.

Eight days after the party incident—on the second Tuesday—Cesare called. Jenny picked up her phone during her lunch break.

"Are you at the theater?" he asked.

"Yeah, perfect timing. We just started our break."

"Get outside. Now. Call me when you're out."

Jenny sensed trouble. She grabbed her bag and stepped outside, deciding to head to 'Jim's Kitchen' for lunch. "I'm on my way."

"Are you alone?" Cesare pressed.

"Yeah. You got the test results back, right? It wasn't just marijuana, was it?"

She wasn't surprised it had taken so long. The U.S. wasn't exactly known for efficiency, and Lillian's friend had done this as a favor, outside of work hours. The fact that he hadn't called her directly, but had gone through Lillian and then Cesare, told her this was serious.

Cesare hesitated before confirming, "There was cocaine in the cigarette."

"Fuck!" Jenny swore, punching the air. "She tried to kill me!"

Cesare had known something was off. Even though Jenny hadn't told him that night, he had called her at six the next morning to demand details. He had advised her to stay quiet for the time being, and she had agreed.

"Are you clean?" he asked. "Lillian's friend wanted to call the cops, but I stopped him. If they ask, say you got it from a stranger at the bar and didn't smoke it because you were suspicious."

Regular marijuana wouldn't have been a big deal, but cocaine was another matter. If the cops were thorough, they might drag Jenny in for a drug test. More likely, though, they'd dismiss it—New York had no shortage of drug cases.

"I'm clean," Jenny confirmed. "But what I don't get is this—Dietrich deliberately tried to screw me over, and you want me to just let it slide?"

"Your debut is in ten days," Cesare reminded her. "The 'F' word on your mind should be 'fuck-up,' not 'fuck her.' Objectively, this isn't unusual on Broadway. Maybe she's used to laced cigarettes, or maybe she was high and didn't think—"

"Fuck you!" Jenny snapped. "Do you even trust me? I told you—she did it on purpose."

"What's her motive?" Cesare countered. "There's no conflict of interest between you two."

"And even if she laced it, so what? It's just a party trick, right?" Jenny spat. "That's what you're saying. It's all just a misunderstanding, so I should ignore it? And she definitely won't try anything else, huh?"

"That's my assessment," Cesare said. "That doesn't mean you should engage with her. Avoiding her is the smart move. You know my stance on drugs."

"Fuck. You." Jenny's voice was calm, but steely. "You and I are not the same. I don't sit back and let people fuck with me. I will make her pay."

She hung up, ignoring Cesare's incoming calls and the stares of passersby who had overheard her swearing. She marched into Jim's Kitchen and ordered the largest burger meal they had.

As she waited, her anger settled. Getting mad was useless—if she was going to strike back, she needed a plan. And she had one.

Just as she finalized it, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Hi!"

Jenny looked up. "Oh, hi, James. Here for lunch?"

James slid into the seat across from her and smirked. "Wow, someone's indulging at lunch today."

Jenny smiled but remained lost in thought as James flirted with the waitress, Anna. When he finally turned his attention to her, he noticed something was off.

"You seem deep in thought," he remarked. "Everything okay?"

Jenny smirked. "Maybe I smoked something."

James' expression turned serious. He scrutinized her before chuckling. "Damn, you almost had me. For a second, I thought, 'Shit, my Roxy's fallen.'"

"Kidding, kidding." She raised her hands in mock surrender.

As she scraped sauce off her burger and took a careful bite, she mused aloud, "You know, I always assumed your crowd did this kind of thing. I mean, Dietrich's party last Monday—everyone was smoking. I thought you were a regular."

James' smile faltered. "I know some people in the troupe have that habit, but I usually steer clear. That stuff fries your brain. Dietrich herself isn't a heavy user, though. She hasn't thrown those kinds of parties in years."

Jenny nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting."

James frowned. "Is there something I should know?"

Jenny hesitated, then smiled. "No, just wondering why Dietrich hates me. Maybe I'm overthinking it. Let's drop it. And don't mention this to her, okay?"

"Of course," James agreed, but Jenny saw the doubt flicker in his eyes.

Good. That was exactly what she wanted.