“Her name wasn’t in the credits,” I offered, though I certainly remembered how Julia had laughed to think that Leon would read of her contribution in Variety and go apoplectic—which he did. He actually made an international call to Paris just so he could rant at her! She listened, replying only with monosyllables while she filed her nails. I admired her coolness. “I don’t blame her,” I retorted. “She was angry when you fired Simon and Jerrold, and Nelson and the others.”

“Julia knew very well I signed the Waldorf Agreement in forty-seven, along with the other studio heads. We vowed not to hire or to keep on any known Communist. The men I fired refused to cooperate when the Congress of the United States—the Congress!—asked them, under oath, about their affiliations.”

“Why shouldn’t they be able to believe what they want, even if it’s Communism? I thought it was a free country!”

“It is a great country, and that’s what we’re preserving. The Communists want to destroy us, to undermine American values, and they mean to use the movie business to do it. Besides, Simon is a drunk and Nelson was a homo. If he killed himself, then that was why.”

“He did kill himself, Leon! I was with Julia in Paris when Kathleen called and told us! It was awful! He shot himself in the head in his bedroom, Leon! His wife found him!”

Leon’s features composed themselves. Cue the thunder. If I were a faltering director or an errant producer or a sloppy actor, I’d be afraid right now. “I have no wish to discuss the past with you, Roxanne. You want to leave home. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” I reined in my tears.

“Are you prepared as well to part with the allowance I give you? Because if you leave home and don’t go to college, that will certainly end. It is a generous allowance.”

“You heard the lawyer. I have money from Julia.”

“Fortunate for you, since without it, you would be hard-pressed to earn a living.”

I did not reply, but certainly, I have no useful skills, and I have no talents. My L’Oiseau d’Or education had no employment value unless you count knowing how to slice off the neck of a champagne bottle with a knife like they do in the French Foreign Legion. I love to read, though I can’t imagine myself writing, and my English major and a French minor at Mills? Don’t make me laugh. Still, I managed to declare, “If I’m not living here and not taking your money, what do you care?”