“A star,” he said. “Not just an actress. A star. Kathleen, I could take you places you never dreamed of. Features. TV series. TV movies. Indies. You name it, and together, we'll conquer it.”

“Adult movies?” Kathleen said.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I just got the sense that with you at my side I’d end up in adult movies. Pornography.”

Jordan looked thoughtful. “If that appeals to you… I mean, Jenna Jameson has certainly proven that's one road to stardom and while I don't know that world as of yet, I’m certainly open to-”

Lloyd cut him off. “Jordan's totally legit, Kathleen. He represents tons of actors. Kimberly Sostchen. Jersey London. Just to name a couple.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“Then you're not watching enough TV. They're both on major series and very hot right now.”

“Good for them,” she said with a yawn. “What agency are you with, Jordan?”

“My own. I started with William Morris but decided to go into business by myself. I just didn't feel like we were servicing our clients well enough there-there was too much bloat at the company. Know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.” She bet he had served coffee at William Morris. And gotten kicked out for not remembering the sugar. No way this guy was a real player. Not with that turtleneck. Not if he was hanging out with Lloyd and coming to her apartment to try to convince her to do something she had no interest in doing, all because she had the same last name as her moderately famous sisters. She moved toward the door. “Well, thanks for all the compliments, but I don't want to act. Sorry. Better luck next time.”

The men exchanged knowing smiles. Lloyd said, “I told you she'd take some persuading.” He rubbed his hands together. “Fortunately, we both love a challenge, don't we, Jordan? So how about we go get something to eat? We can talk about it more over dinner.”

“No, thanks,” Kathleen said. “I’m exhausted.”

“You're too young to be exhausted,” he said. “Come on, sweetie-it'll be lady's choice-whatever you want. So what do you like? Sushi? Indian?”

“None of the above. I’m tired.”

“I hear you. We'll do takeout.” He gestured toward her shorts and tank top. “No need to worry about how you look.”

“I’m not hungry,” Kathleen said. “I just want to go to bed.”

“I know what that made me remember!” Jordan said suddenly.

“What what made you remember?” Lloyd asked.

“That basketball. It just came to me. Someone told me recently about this huge movie they're doing. About a women's soccer team. Sort of an American Bend It Like Beckham, with a dash of League of Their Own thrown in. And they want to cast unknowns. You'd be perfect, Kathleen. With your athleticism and grace… I mean, wow.”

“Now we're getting somewhere,” Lloyd said. He took a step toward the door. “I’ll get us a bottle of wine. A bottle of wine and something to go with it.”

“I could really go for some Mexican right now,” Jordan said. “But not the greasy kind. Tacos al carbón. Something like that.”

He slapped his skinny stomach. “Got to watch my figure.”

Kathleen said, “I don't-”

“If it's Mexican, I think I should get beer instead of wine,” Lloyd said to Jordan.

“Oh, absolutely,” Jordan agreed. “There's a place down the block-”

“Hold on,” Kathleen said, but the men were discussing brands of Mexican beers and didn't seem to hear her. So then she said, “Excuse me,” and dashed down the hallway to the kitchen and through the kitchen to the back stairs. She ran up quickly.

Sam's kitchen door was unlocked, as it usually was these days. She shouted for him as she stuck her head around the door.

“I’m right here,” he said. “You don't need to yell.” He was cooking at his stove. Something with onions and butter. It smelled good. He peered over his shoulder at her. “What do you want?”

“Help,” she said, coming into his kitchen. “I need help.”

“Why? What's wrong?”

“My father showed up with a creepy agent type and they won't leave me alone. They want to put me in porn. I can't get rid of them.”

“Just tell them to leave.”

“I’ve tried. They won't.”

“So go be in porn. You wanted a career.”

“Come on, Sam. Please. Help me.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “All right.” He turned the burner off and shoved the pan across to a cool one. “I don't remember signing on as your personal bodyguard when I agreed to let you house-sit.”

“I didn't know my father was going to start bringing creeps over to my place.”

“You should never have given him your address.”

“I didn't,” she said, heading back down the stairs, with him following. “He's sneaky.”

He followed her back through her kitchen and down the hall into the living room, where they found the two men kicking the basketball back and forth without much enthusiasm or ability. Sam said, “Hello, Lloyd.”

Lloyd looked up and immediately strode forward, neatly sidestepping the rolling ball. “Sam Kaplan! Where the hell did you come from?”

“Upstairs.” The two men shook hands.

Lloyd said, “Sam, Jordan Fisher. Jordan, Sam Kaplan. Sam's the real estate guy I was telling you about. Very big.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jordan said. “Very pleased to meet you. Do you live here?” He looked at Kathleen. “With her? Are you-”

“No,” Sam said. “I live upstairs and Kathleen just ran up because she wanted me to ask you both to leave.”

“Excuse me?” Lloyd said.

“Kathleen's not interested in representation at this time.”

Lloyd looked back and forth between them. “I don't know what Kathleen's been telling you, but we just wanted to have dinner and talk. No one was putting any pressure on her.”

“You wouldn't leave,” Kathleen said. “I told you I didn't want any dinner but you wouldn't leave.”

“I’m sorry if you felt we were wasting your time,” Lloyd said.“I thought we were having a pleasant chat. I’m not sure why you felt the need to misrepresent the situation to my friend Sam here.”

“Me neither,” said Jordan.

“I apologize,” Lloyd said to him. “I thought my daughter had manners. And some intelligence. Clearly, I was mistaken on both accounts.”

“Yep, you were,” Kathleen said. She opened the door and gestured toward it. “Now you'll know better. Goodbye.”

As they went through the doorway, Lloyd turned and said, “I think you at least owe us an-”

She slammed the door in his face. “Idiots,” she said. She turned and looked at Sam. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” As he headed back toward the hallway, he gestured around the living room. “I love what you've done to the place.”

“It suits me.”

“It also explains why you're always coming up to my apartment. Good night, Kathleen. I’m going back to my cooking. Unless you're expecting some more surprise visitors.”

“How can you expect a surprise visitor?”

He laughed, then said, “Back to my onions.” He crossed through the kitchen to the back door. Kathleen caught the door before it closed and held it open. Sam paused on the stairs to look back at her. “What?”

“I’m hungry.”

He waited, his eyebrows cocked expectantly.

“It smelled good, what you were cooking.”

There was another pause. He sighed. “Come on up, then.”

She bounded up the steps to his side. “So,” she said. “What are we having for dinner?”