Brightly colored cottons sloshed in the soapy water of the brushed steel super capacity machine at the laundry mat. Lily watched them with a scowl. She was the one with the stage name, not Her. She was the one with the perfect body type. Being a double was not what she thought it would be. She worked twice as long and as hard, standing for hours, falling down over and over, and never got the guy, nor the credit!

Her frustration was hefted out of the washer and thrown into the dryer with the sopping wet clothes. She wished there was more to throw. It just wasn’t worth it, this body double thing. What was the point? There wasn’t any thanks, any glory, any praise. What if she wasn’t there? They’d shoot the scenes they could while searching for another double.

She angrily folded the stage clothes she’d been wearing for two days. Inside a pocket she found a soggy laminated card. How’d that get there? On the front it read: Taylor Cruz 555-0056.

Her heart soared.