Sly Boy had said that she would be good for Fusion 44, and he was right. As well as emceeing, she worked the bar Tuesday and Saturday afternoons. Sly Boy also wanted her to hang out at the place. He’d pay her, he said, just to sit and chill, chat with the patrons. Kitty needed downtime, though, and she was pulling long hours for Johan, zipping between studios, offices, and parties, her backpack lined with bags of yellow powder. It was good work, for the most part, and enlightening. There were more canary-heads in Hollywood than she realized.

Milly landed her an audition to play the “forlorn lover” in the new Otto Lassiter music video. Before going in, Kitty snorted a thin rail of canary. She’d been of two minds about doing this, but it was worth it. She crushed the audition. The only reason she didn’t get the gig, Milly explained, was because Otto’s latest album hit number one in Japan, and his record company recommended he select an actress of Asian ethnicity.

The long hours were draining, but not without benefit; her bank account was healthier than it had ever been. It occurred to Kitty that she could quit working for Sly Boy altogether and still make enough to get by. She didn’t for two reasons. First: She enjoyed working at Fusion 44—loved the high of emceeing to a packed house. It had also become Kitty’s social center of gravity. She had started to meet people, and feel that she belonged. The second reason for not quitting was that she needed a legitimate source of income. Being able to hide Johan’s “wage” behind her consistent Fusion 44 salary and tips meant that she could pay her taxes, and invite fewer suspicions.

Maybe, if the auditions continued and she scored regular acting work, she could quit both jobs. Dreaming big didn’t involve introducing jazz acts and running champagne drugs. Kitty aspired to a life that she wouldn’t have to quieten—that she could shout from the rooftops, in fact, in a voice loud enough to reach her son’s ears.

Ephraim, her former fiancé and the father of her son, had listed ambition as one of Kitty’s flaws. “Know your place,” he’d said. An unaspiring boor, and what did she ever see in him? He’d also said that she was too rash, and while this was not entirely true (she’d carefully deliberated her life’s bigger decisions, like moving to L.A., and giving her son up for adoption), she was inclined to moments of impulsiveness. It was all part of her exuberant soul, and she made no apology for it.