Suzanne smiled as she rode back to her grandparents’ house that evening. It had been a good day, she thought. She’d met at least five people who were in AA, including Bobby Munch and his wife, who was down here with him. She had found someone who would give her some water pills before her bathing suit scene. She’d remembered most of her dialogue, and Simon had seemed pleased with her work. She’d met the two executive producers—the Father and the Son—toward the end of the day, and even though they’d been nicer to Bobby than to her, she chalked it up to the overall sexism prevailing in show business and let it go at that.

Suzanne felt that her acceptance of her reality verged on the adult, and was almost proud of herself. Yes, all in all, a pretty good first day.

The next morning, while the cameras were being repositioned for close-ups, Simon came over and sat down next to Suzanne. He was friendly, but there was something else. He seemed almost embarrassed.

“What’s happening?” said Suzanne cheerfully. “Did you have to take a drug test, too?”

Simon looked confused. “Oh, no, no,” he said. “It’s nothing, really. They just . . . The producers saw rushes last night and had some rather interesting notes.”

Suzanne instantly tensed up. She began wringing out her hair, which had been soaked for the chase-in-the-rain sequence they were filming. “Well, what?” she said, as calmly as she could manage it.

“Now, don’t take it the wrong way,” Simon said. “I saw them this morning and you were fine.”

“It was my first day,” Suzanne said, staring at the ground.

“It was your first day, absolutely,” he said emphatically. “I couldn’t agree with you more. The producers simply felt you should have fun with it.” He stopped and smiled at her. “Just,” he shrugged, “have more fun with it, that’s all.”

Suzanne stared at him. “Simon, if I knew how to have fun with stuff, I wouldn’t be in therapy. I wouldn’t need to have drug tests.”

“Now, now,” Simon said, tilting his head and looking at her as if she wouldn’t finish her vegetables. “I think they had some very interesting comments. Maybe I’m not saying it properly. What I think they mean is that you could own your performance. Make it more your own. Just sort of have fun.”

Suzanne stared at an anthill at her feet. “Really?” she said sarcastically to the ants. “And here I thought everything I did had to be fraught with torment. This is incredible. Why didn’t one of my shrinks tell me this?”

“Now, Suzanne,” Simon said patiently. “You shouldn’t be in this business if you can’t take criticism.”