A week later, on her thirtieth birthday, Suzanne sat in an unmarked police car, soaked to the skin and waiting for Simon to call, “Action!” She looked over at Bobby. “If this is any indication of how my thirties are going to go—” she began.

“Your thirties?” he shouted. “Let’s talk about my forties for a few minutes, shall we? Let’s discuss that I have a wife and two daughters and I’m still soaked to the skin with a big movie wound on my arm, playing cops and robbers.”

“What about that I’m thirty and I don’t have any children?” countered Suzanne. “Or a husband, for that matter.”

Bobby started laughing. “This is a perfect actor conversation,” he said. “ ‘What about me?’ ‘Oh, yeah? Well, what about me?’ ”

“An actress on her thirtieth birthday obsessing about herself,” Suzanne said, also laughing. “I’ve become typical.”

“Sweetheart, you became typical long ago, only you were too stoned to notice.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I suppose you’re not typical?”

“I revel in my typicalness,” Bobby said. “Do you think they remember that we’re out here waiting to do this shot?” He squinted down the highway at the crew, where Simon and Rocky were having what appeared to be an important conversation. Simon looked down the road toward their car and held up five fingers. “Five more minutes,” Bobby sighed.

“Hey, babe,” teased Suzanne, “you wanted to go into show business.”

“Not this show business,” he said. “I wanted to be in the glamorous, fun show business.” A soft warm breeze moved steadily across the desert, carrying the voices of the crew. “You’re awfully cheerful for someone who’s just turned thirty,” he said.

“I’d just hate to remember my thirtieth birthday as an ordeal,” she explained. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’m happy and I just don’t . . .” She paused, looking for the right words. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’m happy, but because I expect it to be something else, I question the experience. So now, when in doubt,” she shrugged with true bravado, “I’ll assume I’m happy.”

Suddenly they heard Rocky call them, and Simon made a thumbs-up sign. Roger ran up the hill with a water bottle to spray them.

“Action!” called Simon.

Bobby clutched his wound and started driving down the hill. Suzanne grabbed her movie gun. As they drove past the camera, Suzanne was exhilarated. She was still young, good-looking, funny, bright, her wet hair was blowing behind her, and she had a gun in her hand. As soon as they were out of camera range she began to sing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.”

As they hit the main highway, Suzanne saw that the Desert Palm Drive-In was showing False Start, a movie she had read for and not gotten. Her spirits sank instantly. “We should go back,” she said quietly. “They’ll be mad.”