You had been working at the Clifton Hotel for years—through the trials of the pandemic, the endless staffing shortages, and every unexpected challenge that came your way. Through it all, you remained, a constant in the chaos. Even when the hotel agreed to host the filming of a movie from a franchise so obscure it was almost laughable, you stuck around, as steadfast as ever.

A few weeks into production, Dieter Bravo, one of the actors, casually walked up to the front desk with his usual air of self-importance. With a dramatic flourish, he flopped onto the counter, a move that was more theatrical than necessary. You had seen him around enough to know the type: a full-blown drama queen with an overinflated sense of his own significance.

He straightened up suddenly, pressing his palms together in an exaggerated gesture, as if he were preparing for some sort of spiritual revelation. His eyes locked with yours, and in a voice that was equal parts demanding and rehearsed, he said, “I need to ask you something.”