Trembling with rage and shame, for myself, for Max, for Julia and Leon and Empire Pictures—oh yes, I was a daughter of Empire, like it or not—I said goodbye and went into the house. I passed Irene, who was dressed, her hair in a smooth, perfect pageboy.

She took one look at my face. “You did it again, didn’t you?”

“Enjoy lunch with that slut Denise.”

I went into the bathroom to wait till I could hear them leave. In the mirror I stared at the birthmark that had made my mother hate me. Once when Jonathan and I were kids, we were underfoot on the Western town set. We just joined the extras in front of the sheriff’s office when they called “Action.” But suddenly, some underling, a guy, called out, “Cut!” and strode on-set, took my arm, and yanked me away, saying I couldn’t be there, not with a face like that. Everyone—cameramen, script girls, gaffers, the director—held their breath. Clearly, he didn’t know who I was. Simon Strassman got out of his chair, dismissed that guy, put his arm around me, and told me to go back and play the scene, that I would be fine. Simon told the cameraman to reshoot and the director did not dare object. The director knew who I was. But I could not move, and I could not hide my tears. I could not hide my tears now either. Alone in the bathroom, I started to blubber and cry. Irv Rakoff also knew who I was, and he had not one qualm about pushing himself up against me and putting his lips at my neck and his hands all over my boobs. I splashed water all over my face and came up dripping to look in the mirror and stare at Roxanne Granville, the stupidest girl on the planet.

In the kitchen Eudonna was chopping onions and listening to a Negro preacher railing on the radio. I asked her to turn it down as I picked up the phone and dialed Rakoff/Holtz. I shivered on one of the hottest days of the year, crying because Eudonna’s damned onions were stinging my eyes.

“Put me through to Irv,” I said to the agency operator.

“Mr. Rakoff’s office,” said Bonnie, all crisp business. “Who may I say is calling?”

“Leon Greene’s office,” I replied. “Mr. Greene wishes to speak with him.”

“May I know what this is in regard to?”

“You may not.”

“Leon!” said Irv when he came on the line at last. “What’s this about?”