Janna picked up the phone.
"Janna? It's Kate Matorsi."
"Hello, Kate." Janna wondered if, given her guaranteed oncoming success, she ought to dump her agent.
"I have some wonderful news for you."
"Really?"
"I just got a call from Anton Leighton-White. He was at the reading that you did the other day for When the Owl Cries. "
"I remember the name—but he wasn't one of the important people there. He was just sitting in."
"That's right. He's another director working for the same producer. He liked your reading, he liked your look, and he was impressed by the note you sent to the producer. Said you were a real professional and a class act."
"That's nice of him."
"Sweetheart, we don't give a shit about nice. He was sitting in to see if any of the people who were wrong for Owl were right for his film, which is basically Jurassic Park meets Raiders of the Lost Ark. He sent me a script for it; it's wonderful, you have the lead if you want it, and the money they are willing to pay you is beyond the dreams of avarice, kiddo. This movie will be next summer's major summer release."
Janna sat there, thunderstruck. This was it. The big break. Already.
"Speechless, huh?" Kate said.
He'd liked her. He'd liked her enough to give her the lead in a major movie. "Wow," she said.
Kate had to go, but said she'd call back shortly.
Janna hung up the phone and lay down on the couch. Major motion picture. With her as the lead.
He'd liked her.
Or had he?
Maybe it was the contract kicking in. Maybe he hadn't liked her until after she'd signed it.
It didn't matter. Major motion picture. Tons of money, summer release, action-adventure heaven.
Maybe he hadn't liked her at all. Maybe she hadn't been good enough to earn the part.
It doesn't matter, she told herself again. This is my big break. This is where I start to fly.
Maybe he hated me. Maybe I have nothing to do with this at all.
She stared at the ceiling, poised on the brink of success, and found that it wasn't as exciting as she'd thought it would be. She wanted to know that he'd really liked her. She wanted to know that he thought she was wonderful. And she couldn't know that, because her contract with Hell could make him give her the part even if he loathed her. She would never know if he'd liked her work; would never again know if anyone really liked her work.
And it mattered.