Case in point: Eight weeks after she’d started working for Johan—on the morning before her twenty-fifth birthday—Kitty had called her mama, needing to hear a familiar voice and to get a little love from home. Mama had been in good form. She’d explained that she was taking Muncel Stevens to visit with her new baby granddaughter, and later they were all going to Shirley Mae’s for barbecued ribs. Kitty had hung up with tears of homesickness stinging her eyes, and before she knew it, she was on a flight back to Kentucky. Spending her twenty-fifth birthday with friends and family seemed not only appealing, but essential. Kitty had called Johan and Sly Boy from the airport lounge, to inform them of her impetuous decision. “Yeah, take a couple of days,” Johan had said. He sounded stressed, but maybe that was just her. “And happy birthday. I’ll get you a little something while you’re away.”

Kitty spent precisely forty-six hours back home, and they were everything she needed them to be, proving that an impulsive nature was occasionally a good thing. She ate barbecued ribs at Shirley Mae’s (“I can’t believe my baby is here!” Mama kept clucking), then she and a few of the girls hit the town for drinks and dancing. She got happily drunk, shared some of her L.A. stories (omitting her connection to the Hollywood drug scene), and flirted with an ex-boyfriend. On her birthday morning, a flock of them went for breakfast at Shoney’s, then for a soul-filling walk in Cherokee Park. Kitty couldn’t remember the last time she felt so . . . replete. The housewarming soiree at Barrett Lorne’s place had been unforgettable, but there was nothing quite like the comfort and familiarity of family.

That afternoon, her sister Connie drove her to Shively, and they parked across the street from a large colonial with tall white columns and a perfectly landscaped yard. A teenage girl with shimmering blond hair shot hoops in the driveway. After a moment, a younger African American boy joined her. The girl was taller and more experienced, but she was kind to the boy, and kept the contest close.

“You okay, sweetie?” Connie asked.

“Yeah,” Kitty replied, wiping the tears from beneath her large round sunglasses. “He looks so happy.”

“He does. And that’s good.”

Kitty would never interfere with that happiness, but she vowed to return one day and add to it—to be a woman of whom her son could be proud.

She flew back to Los Angeles the following morning, with her heart both empty and full. Her mama had gotten emotional and asked her to stay. “I miss you, baby girl. I worry for you out there.” A few months ago, Kitty might have been tempted, but L.A. was home now. She was making money, making connections, she had a talent agent.

It was all coming together. Life was good.