I fought to keep my voice steady as I stared at the skinny, spray-tanned woman holding the clipboard. I couldn’t believe I was at an actual television studio. I was easily distracted by people wearing costumes and carrying props. One guy carried a body with a severed head! I had to remind myself I was on the set of a crime drama, so weird was normal and normal was weird. “She’s over there.” The woman pulled an e-cig out of her collagen-enhanced lips. Did every forty-plus woman in this town go to the butcher block? “She’ll assign you a role and send you to wardrobe.” She tapped her e-cig as if she was discarding ash and then popped it back in her mouth. “My role?” Hang on. My role was already assigned. She scowled, her face so tight, I swore I heard the crackling of her leathery skin. “Don’t you speak fucking English?” Ohhh, bruja! My head snapped back as if I’d been slapped. “Yeah, I speak fucking English. I’m supposed to be a female detective.” “Female detective?”
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