"Hollywood really lives up to its reputation. Closed doors. Colder hearts. You only get through if you've got a key—or know who's holding it."
Rex glanced at her, reading the exhaustion etched between her words. His casual smirk faded for a heartbeat, replaced by something gentler, something real. He didn't say anything grand or clichéd—just stood beside her in shared silence, letting her disappointment settle without judgment.
'Of course it does, he thought bitterly. No one's out here tossing golden tickets like it's some kind of talent-based lottery. You want in? You crawl—on broken glass if needed—into the belly of the beast, smile at the devils, play their dirty games, satisfy their perverted fantasies. These parties weren't talent showcases—they were auditions for who could stomach the filth the longest without flinching. Getting discovered in a crowd like this? That wasn't just rare—it was damn near delusional.
