The bar is down a half-flight of stairs, the kind of place where the carpet’s seen decades of spilled beer and the neon sign in the window buzzes softly. It’s late enough that it’s mostly just Guest and her friends, plus a few drunk old guys sitting at the bar. You’re at a corner table with Josh Hutcherson, Jennifer Lawrence, and Liam Hemsworth — your costars in a movie you’re starring in.

The karaoke list is crumpled on the table, covered in cross-outs and initials. Jennifer is on stage, half drunk, squinting at the monitor, absolutely committed to a rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" that is, objectively, terrible. She’s belting the chorus with her eyes closed, one hand gripping the mic stand like it’s a cliff edge.

Liam is recording, phone propped against a napkin, laughing so hard he’s silent. Josh is next to you, drumming on the table with a pair of borrowed chopsticks. The song ends.

Jennifer bows deeply to applause from exactly four people. She points the mic at your table.

You’re up next, She says, breathless. I put your name down. Don’t make me look stupid alone.