Oh hey! Welcome to my new fic.

It's a film au because I got some stories to tell about film. So enjoy. I'll try to make everything as clear as possible but let me know if there are film things that need further explaining.

AU so no powers. I don't own Supergirl characters.

Enjoy!

The engine of the old, white pickup truck roared loudly as it rumbled through rural National City. It was a '92 Dodge with a covered bed that ran on diesel and had more dents in the body than a golf ball. In the driver's seat sat a woman the same age as the behemoth truck she drove with gritted teeth and white knuckles.

Twenty-seven-year-old Kara Danvers was behind the wheel, glancing anxiously in the side mirrors at the trailer she was pulling behind the truck. The trailer was a 1960's silver, streamline mobile home that had been repurposed as a mobile kitchen by her boss, Clark, who sat in the passenger seat giving instructions.

"Be sure you slow down for the railroad tracks," Clark said, pointing at the tracks across the road ahead of them.

"Copy," Kara said, holding back the comment about the fact that she did that when driving regardless because speeding across railroad tracks was careless. But she didn't need to be making snarky comments. She needed to be concentrating on the road.

This was only her third time pulling the trailer. She'd been working for Clark for about two years, but he'd always been the one to drag it around with his truck. She'd simply followed in her nice, relatively new—compared the to truck at least—SUV. Sure, she'd had to drive the truck a few times to go on runs or lug gear back and forth. She'd even driven it through downtown, the worst part of National City to drive. But the trailer hadn't been with her those times. The truck was huge, loud, and hard to drive enough as it was. Adding the trailer to the mix was nearly giving her a panic attack.

The only thing keeping her from freaking out was having Clark beside her guiding her through it. He was slightly older with dark hair, traces of grey starting to make an appearance, and he had an ever-present smile that reached all the way to the square glasses he wore on his face. She liked working for him. He was easy-going and had a goofy personality, and even though he drove her crazy sometimes, she enjoyed the friendship they'd blossomed in addition to their work relationship.

She'd started working with Clark after she'd quit her dead-end coffee shop job in order to pursue her dream of working in film. The timing had worked out well because her friend James had started working with Clark in Craft Services a year or so prior, had made the connections he needed to make, and wanted to switch to the electrical department. Kara started out working every now and then when they needed a hand, and then suddenly James had a gig lined up with an electrical crew. Clark just looked at her and said, "Are you my girl?" And she responded, "I'm your girl," and the next thing she knew she was on a Netflix movie doing crafty.

Craft Services, or "crafty," as film people called, it was by no means glamorous. The sole purpose of the department was to keep the crew and cast hydrated and fed throughout the day. There was catering to do the full meals, but the drinks and snacks people ate on set were all bought and prepared by her and Clark.

So, in other words: she was still making coffee and serving people food, but she was doing it on a film set and making five times as much as she did at the coffee shop. So, she wasn't complaining. She was just happy to be working in film at all. It was the only thing she'd ever imagined herself doing besides writing, her other passion. The department she was in may not have been creative, but it got her on set, helped her make connections. And she was writing in her spare time, the little that she had between jobs and on weekends.

The dream was to one day finish writing a screenplay and sell it so that she wouldn't have to do crafty anymore. She wouldn't be the one walking around with a tray of meat and cheeses. She would be the screenwriter, sitting in her comfy little chair in video village with her headphones on, watching her movie being acted out on the monitors.

But she hadn't written anything yet, so it didn't look like she would be getting out of crafty any time soon.

"Ready to call it quits?" Clark asked as they rounded a block for the fourth time.

"Yes, please," Kara said, already switching the turn signal on so she could start heading back.

"Wide turns, remember?" Clark said, pushing his glasses up anxiously as Kara slowed to turn at the intersection.

"Copy," Kara said again, almost robotically. Copy was what they said in film to indicate what was being said was understood. Copy was their "yes," "okay," or "got it." When she first started working a lot, she was able to leave her film terms on set, but the longer she worked, the harder it got. One day she caught herself texting the word "copy" to a friend who didn't work in film and had to erase it quickly. Then she heard herself say it to someone at the grocery store, and it was all downhill from there.

There was an old sugary refinery factory on the outskirts of the city that had been cleared out and turned into a warehouse for the film industry in National City. There were pieces of old sets, various props, and even a few old cars inside, and every time Kara went in the building she had to stop and gawk at one of the new additions. And maybe take a picture or two with some of the cooler items.

Clark paid the owner a couple hundred dollars a month to keep the trailer in the parking lot when they weren't working. The refinery was across the city from her apartment, but she didn't mind the drive. What she did mind was the fact that there was no shade, the trailer's AC was shit, and it was nearing July. The truck's one saving grace, she always said, was that its AC worked. Everything else on it may have been crappy and falling apart, but thank god for the AC.

Kara's entire being was practically shaking with relief as she pulled into the parking lot of the factory. She wasn't the best driver in her own vehicle, and the stress of driving that whole rig was taking its toll.

"How do you feel about parking it?" Clark asked, sending Kara's stress level right back up.

"Like, back it up along the wall of the building like you do?" Kara asked uncertainly.

"Yeah."

Clark liked to park the trailer next to the building so that at least at some point in the day it could be in the shade. But there was a fence along the side of the property, so that meant backing the trailer into the space. And while Kara seemed to have at least gotten the basics of driving on the road, she sucked at backing up.

"Uh…" Kara whined.

"You've got it. You'll be fine," Clark said with a smile and scooted along the bench seat. "Let me out."

Kara groaned as she put the truck in park, unbuckled her seatbelt, and opened the driver's side door to allow Clark to climb out of the cab. "You really need to get that door fixed," she said about the passenger side door, which had never worked in the entire time she'd been knowing Clark. "And the windows." Which didn't roll down.

"Don't be hating on my truck, girl," he said with a laugh as he held the door open for her to climb back into the driver's seat.

She rolled her eyes as she climbed back into the truck, choosing not to point out that this wasn't so much as hate as it was mentioning things that were legitimately broken. She was honestly waiting for the day it just died completely, and she genuinely hoped it wasn't while she was driving it.

Clark stood along the side of the building and waited for Kara to get the truck and trailer situated so that she could start the perilous process of backing up. He stood so that she could see him in her driver's side mirror and he could direct her. There was no rearview mirror (one would be pointless with the covered bed anyway), and the fact that the trailer didn't move left when she turned to the left or right when she turned to the right when backing up was daunting as fuck. And no matter how hard she tried, even if she thought she had the wheels completely straight, the damn thing always veered to one side so that she backed up crooked.

"Straighten it out!" Clark yelled, and somehow she was able to hear him over the roar of the engine. She tried, and it worked for a second, but then the back of the trailer started to go too far in the other direction. "No, Kara, straight!"

She put her foot on the break and opened the door to yell, "You know doing things straight is hard for me!"

Clark let out a laugh, and Kara smiled at the fact that she could joke about her raging lesbianism with her boss. That was the good thing about film. Everyone was really open-minded and accepting of differences. Homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, and other things like it simply weren't tolerated. Not in the world they lived in today anyway. It was nice to know she could go to work and be herself unashamedly without fear of persecution.

"I know it's hard, but try," Clark said, giving her one of those easy grins. "You can do it. Just easy does it."

Kara let out a huff of frustration but closed the door to the truck, gritted her teeth, and started going in reverse again. It took some maneuvering, and more attempts than she would have cared to admit, but eventually she got the trailer parked half-way decently. When she hopped out of the cab Clark slapped her with a high-five.

"See, there you go," he said. "Now detach her."

Kara's face fell. "Clark, you're killing me, dude."

He laughed again. "Tell you what, I'll pack us a bowl while you're doing it."

"Alright, fuck, deal," Kara agreed.

That was another good thing about Clark. He was a total stoner, and he was always willing to share. Not only that, but when he noticed Kara was stressed or having a bad day, he encouraged her to sneak off and smoke. It wasn't technically allowed—in fact, it was strictly against the rules to do drugs on set—yet everyone did it. It was almost a given in film. Everyone was on drugs, it just depended what kind of drugs. Nicotine was obviously the most popular besides marijuana. And she couldn't even remember how many times different members of crew would slip her a twenty in case she was going on a run to the store so she could pick them up a six pack of beer. Coke was another big one, mostly because it helped to keep people awake. It wasn't uncommon to work well over twelve hours, and sometimes when they had night shoots people were running to the bathroom to take turns taking bumps.

Kara was tame. She enjoyed weed. Maybe a little too much, admittedly, but it did wonders for her anxiety. She'd been diagnosed with anxiety and depression when she was in high school, and though she'd gotten better at managing it through therapy and medication, weed still helped in addition to those things.

With the promise of a bowl in her future, it didn't take her long to unhook the truck, maybe two minutes total. She was surprisingly good at that part. She'd watched Clark do it enough times that when the time came for her to try it herself, she'd done it perfectly on the first try. It may have been a weird thing to be proud of, but she was proud of it, nonetheless.

Clark pulled the truck forward a bit once the trailer was landed and turned off the groaning vehicle. It shuddered and quieted, and Kara sighed as Clark opened the driver's door with a loud squeak. Nothing about the truck was silent. It was one of the loudest vehicles she'd ever heard in her entire life. The way it rumbled was so distinct that half the time she knew when Clark was coming simply because she heard the truck before she actually saw it.

They settled on the back of the tailgate to smoke. Clark handed her a small, blue pipe that'd he'd loaded and a lighter, and she took them appreciatively. After she took her hit, she handed them back to him, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"So, how are you feeling?" Clark asked before taking his hit, and Kara knew he didn't mean about the weed.

He meant the driving and the trailer. Since she'd worked for him those had always been Clark's responsibilities. And why shouldn't they be? They were his things, it was his company she worked under. Film industry people were independent contractors, which meant they worked job to job. Clark technically owned his own craft services company. He'd bought the trailer years before for next to nothing, renovated it himself, and started doing movies out of it. He'd had assistants come and go, but they all moved on to other things. Kara was the assistant he'd had the longest, and she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

That was why when they got offered an eight-week movie over the summer he didn't turn it down even though he knew he was leaving all summer. He and his wife Lois had a baby earlier in the year, and they were going bring the baby to visit her parents in Metropolis for most of July, and then heading to Argo to spend time with Clark's parents through August. The only reason he was able to do this was because he had Kara.

When he'd pitched her the idea of running the show on her own, she'd jumped at the idea. It was more money, more responsibility, and an opportunity that didn't come around often. Their department may have been small, but she was being asked to be in charge of it. She wouldn't be an assistant this time around, she would be the key—the department head. Not many people could say they were a department head at twenty-seven. She was most likely one of the youngest department heads in the city. She was hungry, and she wanted it.

But that was before she realized that meant she'd be the one driving the damn truck and trailer, and now she wasn't so sure.

"I mean, does it matter?" Kara asked, pushing her glasses further up her nose. It was hot as fuck, and she was sweating like crazy, and it was making her glasses constantly fall off her face. This was why she wore her contacts when she was working. That and sometimes food and drink splashed on her and she had to stop and clean her glasses at least ten times a day. "Either way, the show's starting, and I'm driving this thing."

Clark exhaled a lungful of smoke and handed the pipe back. "It does matter. If you're not comfortable we may have to figure something else out."

"Figure what else out?" Kara paused to take a hit, blowing it out as she asked, "Who else can drive this? Nia or Siobhan? No."

Since Clark wasn't going to be there Kara needed an assistant. They'd hired a girl named Nia they'd worked with before. She was quirky and upbeat, and Kara was thrilled to have her aboard. But the second assistant had been tricky. They'd never worked a show before where they got two assistants for the full run. It was usually just when they had an excessive amount of background actors. But they'd been offered a second and accepted in a heartbeat.

Kara had reached out to a new friend named Siobhan she'd met on a previous show. Siobhan seemed eager to work, had been on sets before, and had food service experience. She didn't have crafty experience, but neither did Kara when she started. She was willing to give someone a chance, even if Clark was skeptical about the hire at first. But that didn't mean she was willing to hand over the keys to this crazy contraption to a girl she'd just met—or even Nia, who she'd known for nearly half a year. No, that was her burden to bear.

"I'll be fine, Clark," Kara told him, handing over the pipe and lighter again. "I'm just overthinking it. Really. Don't worry."

He stared at her for a moment. "I'm not. I know you've got this." He offered a smile, hit the bowl again, and coughed slightly as he let it out. "You've done all this before. The only new part is the driving. And as long as you just go slow and use your mirrors, you'll be fine."

He was right. She had done the majority of this before. She'd worked on and off sets since she was twenty and had been doing crafty with Clark long enough to know how to run a set properly. She'd even been in charge at the end of their last long show when Clark took off when the baby was born. But that had been easy because they were at the same location throughout the last few weeks—a soundstage, which was as easy as it got in film.

Filming didn't take place all at one location. There were numerous, sometimes more than one in a day. But for those last few weeks they filmed on stage, where they'd built sets. She never had to move the trailer because the location didn't change.

And that also hadn't been a whole show. She'd been the assistant who just filled in for a couple of weeks then. Now it was her show to run, her time to shine. There was no one to fall back on if she messed up. Clark was entrusting her with his company and livelihood to not only not completely fuck it up, but to knock it out of the park.

No pressure or anything.

"I've got it," Kara said, not sure if she was saying it more to reassure Clark or herself. "The girls and I are gonna get an early start Sunday to prep, and then Monday we're gonna go in and kill it." She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. "No prob, boss."

"Don't forget to get the stuff for cast," he said, eyes going wide. For every show there was always a cast member who had a list of requests, and if they didn't submit one, they usually tried to ask if there were any requests anyway. This was one of those shows that had requests before they asked. "Like, every single thing on that fucking list."

"Both of the lists, right?" Kara asked, remembering she'd seen one for both of the stars—Jack Spheer and Felicity Smoak.

"No, just that dude Jack," Clark said, shaking his head. "Apparently the other one pulled out of the project yesterday."

"What?" Kara asked incredulously. "No! Why?" She'd been looking forward to working with Felicity. She knew she met actors all the time and they really were just regular people, but she couldn't help it when it came to the actresses she had crushes on. The lesbian thirst outweighed everything in her brain screaming that they were normal and that there was nothing special about them. But then they smiled at her, and she lost all logic. "Have they replaced her yet?"

"Don't know, but probably if they haven't pushed back the start date," Clark said, tapping the bowl to his hand to ash it out. He set the pipe on the tailgate and wiped his hands on his jeans.

She didn't know how he managed to wear jeans in the sweltering heat of National City in late June. Kara herself was wearing her waterproof hiking boots, basketball shorts, and a t-shirt she'd cut the sleeves from. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a bun to keep it from sticking to her neck, and she had on a baseball cap to shade herself from the blinding sun.

And she still felt like she was melting.

"I'm glad we have a third just so I can have someone stocking coolers all day long while I do other shit," Kara said as she wiped a bead of sweat from her face. "We're gonna go through drinks fast. I don't know how we're going to stick to a budget of under $600 a day. You know we spend that much on water and ice alone."

"You can do it," Clark said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've done it before."

But was it in the summer? That was the question. Because she'd done shows in both summer and the winter. In winter she could put ice in a cooler full of drinks and not have to ice it down until again until after lunch. Doing that in the summer? Unheard of. She almost told Clark to say no when he'd told her that was the budget for them. Sticking to it was going to be impossible, and she wished he would have fought a little harder for a better one. It was easy for him to agree to if he wasn't going to be the one there hearing crew bitch about why there wasn't any food.

She didn't say any of that, though. Instead she asked, "Did you see they sent us the script?" When Clark shook his head she said, "It's awful."

He frowned. "Really?"

"Yeah." Kara rolled her eyes. She'd not only seen that they'd gotten it, but opened it and started reading. She liked to do that when they were given scripts because it was nice to know what she was going to be working on. And it was good to read scripts of movies that were actually being filmed so she could better her own writing. "It's a typical romantic comedy with some bullshit plot about this lame dude who basically tricks this woman into falling in love with him. I legitimately wouldn't pay to see it or even bother illegally downloading it."

"Well, you don't have to see it," Clark said with a laugh. "As long as they're paying you, who cares?" She cared. She wanted to work on good movies, not just big ones. "I think it's gonna be a great show," Clark said, forever the optimist.

Kara wanted to feel that way, too. She really did. This was supposed to be a good thing, her department heading a movie. There wasn't supposed to be this overwhelming feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. But the facts were that the trailer she was working out of was falling apart, the truck pulling it wasn't much better, she was a novice at driving them, had no idea how to run a show by herself, and was going in with no money and no real idea what the fuck she was going to do if something went wrong.

This was going to be a train wreck.

But didn't voice her concerns. Instead, she just smiled and said, "Me too."

There were many pleasant ways to wake up: to the sound of birds chirping, the smell of coffee brewing, a lover's gentle kiss on the cheek.

Twenty-six-year-old Lena Luthor got none of those things.

Instead she got her mother Lillian throwing open her curtains at whatever the hell time it was and casting the daylight into her otherwise dark room.

Lena didn't live with her mother. She hadn't since she was eighteen. One of the many benefits of being part of one of the most famous film families in the world was the obnoxious wealth. She'd bought herself a penthouse in National City the day after she became legal and moved without so much as telling her mother.

That had been a fun phone call the next day.

But Lillian was not only her mother but also her manager and agent, and since her brother Lex had decided to fire her and hire someone outside of the family, she was all Lillian had. Their father had been an acclaimed actor before he drank himself into an early grave, and Lillian had done what any grieving widow would do—dug her claws even deeper into her children so much so that Lex not only got a new manager and agent but hadn't spoken to her in three years. Now Lena had to deal with her alone.

Thankfully Lillian vowed never to move out of Metropolis and hated National City with a passion, one of the reasons Lena had chosen it as her new home. That and the bustling film industry. It was just as busy as Metropolis, but those were mostly big, blockbuster movies. Perfect for Lex, who was the hottest action star in the business at the moment. But not for Lena.

She preferred small, indie films when she could get Lillian to allow her to take them, and those were more often in National City. She'd done a couple of those since moving, but most wanted her to expose herself to the camera, and not only would Lillian never allow it, she didn't feel that comfortable showing off her body.

Which was why she'd stopped sleeping naked the first time her mother barged into her apartment unannounced. She'd never even given her a key, but she'd talked her way into getting one at the front desk in the lobby. And that morning appeared to be no exception.

"Wake up, Lena, it's two p.m.," was how Lillian greeted her when the youngest Luthor sat up, rubbing sleep-filled green eyes.

"I can tell time, Mother," she muttered grumpily as she threw the covers off her legs and swung them over the side of the bed. "How'd you get in?"

"Well I knocked for ten minutes when my key didn't work before getting the front desk to let me in," Lillian said, fixing her daughter with a hard look. "Why do you keep changing the locks?"

To avoid this exact thing happening, Lena thought, but didn't voice her thoughts. Lillian had boundary issues. After the first time she let herself in unannounced Lena had changed the locks. She didn't have to after for a short while because she actually answered Lillian's calls and texts, so she was able to be prepared for her arrival. But Lillian drove Lena absolutely mental, and sometimes she ignored her simply because she couldn't handle talking to her. The few times Lillian showed up by surprise, she still managed to somehow get herself let in despite Lena telling the front desk not to. But that was the thing about Lillian Luthor. She knew how to get what she wanted.

She'd hoped changing the locks every time her mother barged in on her would give her the hint that these actions were unwanted and unappreciated, but if Lillian realized she didn't care. She still managed to intrude on Lena every time and walk away with a new copy of Lena's key.

"If you would have told me you were coming, I would have been up," Lena grumbled. She didn't wait for a response, just began padding through her penthouse towards the kitchen. But of course, Lillian followed. Lena didn't have to look over her shoulder to know that. She could hear her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

"I called you and you sent me straight to voicemail," Lillian chastised as she chased Lena into the kitchen. "Several times."

Lena frowned, putting on her best confused face. "I don't recall. Must have done it in my sleep." She turned to rummage in the cabinets, smirking once her back was to Lillian. She very vividly remembered doing it. By the fourth call she'd simply turned off her phone. "Or, I forgot to put my phone on the charger when I went to sleep. Maybe it died."

"I'm sure," Lillian said in annoyed voice, dropping her purse on the countertop. She watched as Lena took out the fixings to make coffee. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

"I assume to tell me something you couldn't have just left in my voicemail," Lena said in a bored tone as she put a filter in the coffee maker. "Honestly, Mother, what was so important that you had to fly here on the first plane out of Metropolis?"

"You got Puppy Love," Lillian said excitedly, which made Lena paused in her quest for caffeine long enough to fix her mother with a stoic stare.

"I got what?" she asked.

"Puppy Love," Lillian said again. "That cute little romantic comedy you auditioned for. Isn't it wonderful?"

Lena turned back to the coffee maker to hide her frown. "I thought they went with Felicity Smoak for that?"

She'd been thankful they had. From what she read of the script it sounded like an insufferable, heteronormative piece of dribble that should have never been written, let alone bought and produced. But Lillian loved the project and thought it was just what Lena needed to propel her into stardom. Not that she wasn't famous already, but she was no Lex. Lex was the glory chaser, like their father had been. She just wanted to do movies she liked, not ones that would make her richer than she already was or make even more people want to butt into her life. She had enough of that already with her family name and B-List movie career.

"She got another offer on a different film and decided to back out because it conflicted," Lillian answered.

A better film probably, Lena thought.

"And now they want me?" she asked as she set the pot of coffee to brew before turning to face Lillian again.

"Yes!" Lillian was beaming with what almost looking like pride.

Lena shuffled her bare feet and crossed her arms over her chest. "Whatever happened to that indie I auditioned for?"

"Which one, dear?" Lillian asked, but the smile faltered. She knew exactly which one she was talking about.

"Life Lessons," Lena said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Now that was a project she wanted to get on. It was her dream role. The film was about a badass lesbian detective who was investigating the murder of a high school principal who'd recently been fired for allegations of inappropriately touching some of the male students—specifically the football players who were in danger of going on academic probation. Through her interviews with the school staff she met and fell in love with the school's biology teacher. Together they pieced together the murder and then lived happily ever after.

The role of the detective had gone to Sara Lance early, and Lena had auditioned for the love interest. It was the first audition she'd gotten nervous about in ages. Mostly because it was the first one for a role she actually wanted to get since she'd done a little indie film that she'd had a substantial role in a few years prior. It was about a young woman who went on a road trip with her best friends after her fiancé died in a car accident. She'd played one of the best friends, she'd loved it, but her mother hated it and said it was the worst film of her career.

Her and Lillian's tastes in roles didn't match up. The parts she wanted were not usually the ones she got. A couple of auditions she'd gone in and bombed purposefully just because she couldn't fathom the idea of having to play that part.

But this was an amazing character. Smart, charming, funny, and gay. That was the biggest selling point for Lena. She'd started figuring out her sexuality in her teen years when she had a crush on one of her co-stars for a crappy teen drama pilot she'd filmed that never got picked up. After struggling to figure out what to do she finally came out to Lillian, which was probably the biggest mistake she'd ever made. Lillian insisted she was going through a phase that would eventually pass and that she should keep this as hidden as possible not to ruin her career.

That had been a decade ago, and yet Lena was gayer than ever, and Lillian still insisted they keep it under wraps. She said it was so that Lena didn't type-cast herself into strictly gay roles, that if Lena came out, she wouldn't be picked to play a straight character ever again. That didn't sound so bad to Lena, but every time she broached the topic it launched them into a fight that was more of a headache than Lena felt like dealing with.

She'd been hoping if she got the role then it could open up the dialogue naturally. She always did interviews to promote her projects, and she really wanted to play a lesbian character so that when doing interviews if someone asked if she was gay herself, she could just look right into the camera and say, "Yes, yes I am." And then Lillian would be pissed, but it would be out there, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

"Oh, yes, Life Lessons," Lillian said, obviously pretending she was just now remembering. Lillian had been an actress once upon a time, and she liked to think herself a good one, but the reason her career fizzled out was that she flat-out wasn't. Even getting herself pregnant with Lex and landing Lionel Luthor as a husband hadn't done anything to help her. And there was no way she could have forgotten about this audition. They'd had a screaming match about whether or not she would even go. "They called the other day and said they'd gone with someone else. I heard through the grapevine it was Ava Sharpe." She put on a fake frown and tried her best to look disappointed. "I'm sorry, dear. I know you really wanted that little lesbian movie."

Lena pulled at a loose thread on her worn-in t-shirt she'd slept in and pretended her heart hadn't just broken slightly. "It's fine. I didn't think I would get it anyway." She sighed and turned her attention back to the coffee, which was just about done. It couldn't finish brewing fast enough. Lena hardly felt like a real person until she had at least one, sometimes two cups in her. "So you told them I'm doing Puppy Love, I'm guessing?"

"Of course I did!" Lillian scoffed. "As if we would pass up this golden opportunity."

There she went again with the we. Last she checked it was her career that lined both of their pockets further. Lillian got a percentage of everything she made. That's why she always wanted Lena to take bigger roles, so she could increase her own cut. She liked to claim it was all for Lena, that she just wanted to see her succeed. But Lena knew the truth, knew Lillian was only in it for herself. But that's how most agents and managers were. If it wasn't Lillian taking advantage of her it would just be someone else. At least with Lillian she knew what she was getting.

"That films here in National City right?" Lena asked, finally pouring herself a generous cup of coffee, one so full she had to pick it up carefully so that she didn't spill any over the sides.

"Yes, Lena, you won't have to leave your precious little city," Lillian said with a condescending tone. "Principle photography starts July first."

Lena was about to take a sip of scalding hot coffee when she paused and looked at Lillian with wide eyes. "That's Monday," she said exasperatedly. It was Thursday. She had less than a week to learn lines.

"Yes, and the camera test is Sunday."

"Jesus Christ, Mother," Lena grumbled. "Do you at least have a script for me so I can start learning my lines?"

"Didn't you have one emailed to you before your audition?" Lillian asked impatiently.

"Yeah, but that was months ago," Lena said before taking a sip of coffee and wincing when she burned her tongue. "Besides, I like to have a hard copy so I can write notes. You know this."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Very well. I'll call them and let them know to have one sent over." She gave a tight-lipped smile. "Are you happy?"

"Thrilled," Lena said without any effort to put even the slightest hint of emotion in her voice.

Lillian's eyes narrowed somewhat, but the fake smile never slipped off her face. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and we'll go out for a late lunch to celebrate?"

"No, that's fine, Mother," Lena said quickly. "I don't want to make a fuss."

"Nonsense," Lillian insisted. "We're going." She reached out and picked at a strand of Lena's long, dark hair, which was a tangled mess after sleeping. "And please do something nice with your hair. You always look so lovely when you put it up. That way everyone can see your pretty face."

Because that's all she was, apparently. Another pretty face.

"Fine," Lena relented, knowing if she just gave in and went to lunch with Lillian, she would be pacified enough to leave her alone at least for the rest of the night.

"And wear something pretty," Lillian instructed. "Not those sweats you like to walk around in when running errands."

Lena rolled her eyes. She'd done that twice in the past week, and each time Lillian had texted her a paparazzi photo accompanied with a passive aggressive comment about Lena looking "comfortable."

"Why don't you just pick out my outfit for me?" she offered, because she knew even if she did make an effort Lillian would still nit pick every detail until she went in Lena's closet herself and picked something out anyway.

"Lovely idea, darling," Lillian said, this time with a real smile. It made Lena's stomach turn.

"Just nothing too revealing, okay?" Lena said as she began walking back to her bedroom, coffee in hand. "We're going to lunch, not a night club."

Lillian was on her heels. "You have a beautiful body, what's wrong with showing it off every once in a while?"

"I have more to offer than just my body, Mother, and I'm not going to apologize for not wanting to show off my tits so some prepubescent teenager can jack off to me at night when his parents are asleep," she said, and she smiled with satisfaction when she glanced over her shoulder and saw the disgusted look on Lillian's face. "Besides, you're the one who doesn't want me to expose myself to the camera. I thought you'd enjoy my modest fashion choices."

"Nudity and showing off your figure are completely different things," her mother shot back. As soon as they got to the bedroom, she put her hand on Lena's back and nudged her towards the bathroom attached to the master suite. "Now would you please get in the shower? I'd like to catch an early flight back to Metropolis."

"Whatever you say, Mother Dearest," Lena said in a sickeningly sweet voice, enjoying the glare she saw on Lillian's face before she closed the bathroom door in it—and made sure to lock it.

She let out a heavy sigh as she placed her mug on the bathroom counter, then went over to the shower and turned it on to warm up the water. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and threw it in the hamper by her shower, then pulled down her cotton sleep shorts and underwear and threw those in, too.

While she waited for the shower to heat up, she figured she might as well finish her coffee. She went over to pick it up from the counter, glancing at herself in the mirror as she did. Normally she didn't like looking at herself in the mirror, not fully-clothed, and especially not naked. But she paused then and let her eyes drift over herself.

She knew she was what people considered traditionally pretty, but she didn't really see it herself. There were things she didn't like about herself, such as she thought her thighs were too big and her skin was too pale. She supposed her breasts were nice, but that didn't mean she wanted them seen by millions across the globe. And she did love her green eyes and long, dark hair, even though Lillian tried to get her to dye it at least on a monthly basis. She believed Lena would have more success as an actress as a blonde, but Lena was adamant about not wanting to do that. She didn't think it was necessary.

Then again, she'd lost her dream role to Ava Sharpe, who was a tall, blonde woman. And alongside her in the film was Sara Lance, also a blonde. Maybe Lillian had a point. But she didn't want to think about it just then. She should have been thankful to have a role at all. The last thing she'd done was a guest spot on a medical drama for a couple of episodes before her character was eventually killed off. At least this movie was going to be eight weeks of work, and it was her first time being the romantic lead in a blockbuster movie. She could kiss a man for eight weeks and survive. It would be nauseating, but she could do it. Lillian had been trying to land her a leading role in a romance movie since she was a teenager, but somehow, she'd always managed to avoid booking them. Until Puppy Love. But maybe Lillian was right and doing a movie like this could help open her up to more roles, better roles.

She should have been thrilled. But as she gulped down her quick-cooling coffee, she couldn't help the hollowness she felt in her chest. And even when she climbed into the shower, she couldn't shake it, and she had to take a moment to close her eyes and take in deep breaths to calm herself because the walls of the shower started to feel like they were caving in.

Her heart sunk even lower when she got out and saw what Lillian had picked for her to wear: a tight-fitting, green dress that was cut just above the knee, and she'd paired it with the most uncomfortable shoes Lena owned. She gritted her teeth to avoid saying anything nasty about the choice because it wasn't worth the argument that would surely follow and grabbed the dress and shoes and took them back into the bathroom to finish getting ready for a lunch she didn't want to go to in the first place.

First chapter down, many more to go. Stay tuned.