Denzil groaned. ‘Just get your life in order. There’s a lot at stake, Travis. Think career. Think money.’

‘All right. I’ll think money.’

‘And while we’re on the subject-about tonight-’

‘I’m not going to be at the dinner tonight,’ Travis said firmly. ‘There’s been too much bad blood between Brenton and me.’

He escaped, breathing out hard in his exasperation and relief. As he headed down the corridor his cellphone shrilled. It was Pete, his agent.

‘I suppose they’ve been onto you too?’ Travis demanded.

‘Denzil called me as soon as you’d gone,’ Pete said. ‘Apart from anything else, he’s cross because you won’t come to the dinner tonight.’

‘And I told him the answer’s still no,’ Travis groaned.

There was to be a celebration dinner for Frank Brenton’s sixtieth birthday. He was a studio big shot who’d invested a lot of money in the past and it was hoped he would put in more. Hence the big party.

‘He can’t stand me and I can’t stand him,’ Travis said. ‘He pulled every string he could find to stop me being cast in the show, and he hates my guts because he failed. Best if we don’t meet.’

‘OK, OK. I told Denzil I’d raise it. But about the other thing, he just wants to be sure you understood the message.’

‘But why have I got to be the only virtuous guy in Los Angeles?’ Travis growled.

‘Because it makes you different, and that difference puts a couple of extra noughts on the cheque. You haven’t suddenly stopped caring for money and success, have you?’

‘No way.’

‘Then get a grip.’

‘Am I supposed to live a totally moral life?’ Travis demanded, aghast.

‘No, I know you too well for that. But keep the fun stuff behind closed doors. In public, be seen only with ladies of impeccable morality. If they decided to replace you-well, there are several other actors just slavering to grab that part from you.’