She set out to get a job at the club in Century City, because that was where she might find Tina. Her friend had helped her become a Bunny before; maybe she would help her again. Sherri had no desire to go through the motions of properly applying—why should she audition for a job she’d already had? But her confidence crumbled the closer she got to the Shubert Theatre, which housed the club. The first time she’d seen the Playboy logo writ large, back when she was with Roberta, it had been carved onto a wooden sign and tucked into a thicket of trees in Lake Geneva, innocent and unthreatening, like the sign for the YMCA camp. Here in LA, the logo was less subdued. It screamed at her, and it was massive, as tall as the first floor of the building, ablaze in white neon. A line of customers stretched around the block. That was when it hit her like a blow to the gut: she was just a customer now, a civilian, wasn’t she? She’d have to stand in line like everyone else. She couldn’t bear that thought, so she decided to get a drink first, thinking it would get her out of her own head. She drove right past the club and found herself gliding aimlessly through the city in her big brown car. She loved to explore Los Angeles, and still gawked at the Columbia Records building and the Hollywood sign. She was even amazed by lesser-known landmarks like Gelson’s Market, the biggest grocery store she’d ever been in. It was nothing like Ray’s Save-a-Lot back home, where Ray, the owner, would dress up in a trench coat, hat, and sunglasses and lurk in the aisles trying to catch shoplifters. Who knew you could feel homesick for a grocery store? The fact that Gelson’s impressed her made her feel like she’d always be a hick. She’d feel like a perpetual tourist in Los Angeles no matter how long she lived there.