ROSE WAS HAVING a mild attack of stage fright. Her mother's party had already started and she was still in her bedroom finding reasons not to emerge. She checked herself in the mirror for what had to be the twentieth time. She'd bought a new dress for the night; it draped over one shoulder, caught under the bust, and then fell to the floor. The fabric was a clingy crepe de chine that matched Rose's skin tone, and if she was standing in the wrong light—or the right light, depending on your point of view—it didn't leave a lot to the imagination. Rose intended to spend the night standing in the wrong/right light whenever Bobby was nearby. She'd tried piling her long red hair on top of her head in a fashionable beehive, but at the last second she'd pulled it down and let it fall freely around her back and shoulders. Given a clamshell, she could have passed for a modern-day version of the Botticelli's Venus. Now she just had to go out to the party, where all her efforts would do her some good.

Rose gave herself one last look in the mirror and thought about saying a quick prayer. But somehow it didn't seem appropriate. Not when she was doing her best to look naked. She left her bedroom and headed toward the sounds of the party.

The guests seemed to be distributed evenly throughout the living room, the dining room, and the foyer. Rose looked around. George had already arrived with Davy, and Lu's agent was there. Her producer hadn't shown up yet. Neither had Bobby.

Good, she thought as she smiled and nodded at an actor—he'd been the second banana in her mother's last show—who was waving at her from across the room. If Bobby's not here then I didn't miss anything.

Her mother had said she was making him prove himself, and Rose had said she wasn't. But what if she was? What if she was setting up one final test tonight? Was that such a sin?

It's like putting a starving dog in front of a porterhouse steak and asking it not to eat, Lu had said.

But what about me, damn it? Rose thought. I have to know. I have to be sure.

The second banana was heading her way, and she took off in the opposite direction, circling the rooms, nodding and smiling at people she wasn't seeing, always keeping the front door of the apartment in sight.

Bobby showed up five minutes later. He was wearing a new suit. It was cheap, but at least it wasn't the shabby one he wore to work every day. He was also wearing another loud tie. But that lapse in taste was something that could be easily fixed when she was the one picking his wardrobe. Rose made her way to the foyer.