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show you my movie.”
    â€œUm, sure,” Bree said after a long and thoughtful pause. Sean didn’t seem like a serial killer, and if he planned on killing her, he wouldn’t let her give his name and address to her driving service. So she walked arm in arm with him to his tiny studio apartment three floors up from a used bookshop. A few snowflakes fell, making the short walk a little more romantic than it already was. After the run of luck she’d been having, Bree was surprised to find she was looking forward to an extended goodnight kiss.
    â€œIt’s nowhere near work or school, but it’s rent controlled, so it’s worth it,” Sean explained, letting her in the front door and up three flights of stairs. Inside the small studio, there was a battered white sofa like one she had seen in a showroom earlier that day, a surprisingly large TV, and an enormous movie collection—and not much else, though she suspected that the tall wooden lattice screen in one corner hid a bed from view. It was covered with black and white photos of jazz musicians. Bree recognized Miles Davis and Ella Fitzgerald, but she couldn’t name any of the others.
    â€œMind if I use your restroom?” Bree asked. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt their conversation earlier, since it was going so well in the coffee shop—and she also liked to snoop in bathrooms whenever she could. Selah and Melikka had taught her that you can learn a lot about someone from what they had in their medicine cabinets. In LA that mostly meant what prescription drugs they used or abused. A man might have a nice house and fully stocked wet bar, but if he also had a lot of bad habits, or one bad disease, then Selah and Melikka stayed away. Bree didn’t expect to find evidence of a meth habit or the AIDS drug cocktail behind Sean’s bathroom mirror, but as her mother liked to say, “People will surprise you.”
    And her mother was right. Bree had not expected to find a Tomorroworld poster taking up most of the wall opposite the shower. Thandie Newton’s queenly profile stood against a backdrop of a post-apocalyptic New York with a skyline full of burning skyscrapers. The major studios thought America wasn’t ready yet to see any more burning skyscrapers in New York, so the movie was in very limited release, despite winning awards at Sundance and Cannes. So Bree was amazed to see the poster in Sean’s bathroom. Amazed, but not exactly pleased. What if he figured out that she was in the movie? This could be bad. But Bree had to find out what he knew.
    â€œSo, big Tomorroworld fan, huh?” Bree asked, returning from the bathroom and settling onto the couch.
    â€œIt’s not Thandie’s best,” he said casually, fiddling with his DVD player. “But I love that poster. Doesn’t she look amazing?”
    â€œYeah. She’s beautiful.”
    He sighed happily and joined Bree on the couch. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. He whispered in her ear, “I maintain the most complete Thandie Newton site on the Internet, and I monitor her IMDb site every day.”
    â€œUm, that’s very interesting,” Bree said, wondering when he was going to stop talking about Thandie Newton and kiss her.
    â€œI hear Joseph Lasser was really mean to her when he was directing Tomorroworld . God, what I wouldn’t do to work with her, and he treated her like crap!”
    â€œWhere did you hear that?”
    â€œSomeone posted it on IMDb.”
    Bree’s face fell. She hated the Internet Movie Database. When she first found out that her picture and film credits were listed there, Bree was so excited she called both her parents and all of her friends. But in the months that followed, she watched people debating on the message board whether she had slept with Joseph Lasser to get her role, whether she and Beyoncé were distantly related, even a very spooky comment