“It’s dumb. It’s from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

“Why is it dumb?”

“I don’t know, it just is, okay?” I was getting irritated at her persistence. I loathed acting class. My teacher was John Cavallos, supposedly the best. Supposedly he had trained Kevin Kline and Susan Sarandon. Supposedly a framed love letter from Kathleen Turner hung in his office. The students treated him like he was God.

“Nic, drop it. Besides, I’m supposed to be celebrating, right?” I leaned my whole body over until my forehead pressed against hers. “Right?”

“Hey blondie, your roots are showing.” Nicole pointed at my scalp. I pushed her away.

“You should come too,” I said. I didn’t really want her to come. She’d taken to monitoring my drinks and acted like my chaperone, but I had a motive.

“Oh, wow, I’m invited?” She widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Okay. But I have to work until ten.”

“No one gets to Helena’s until midnight.”

“Fine. But have a salad waiting when I get home.” Nicole commanded. “Oh, and Jackie, one more thing—no drugs tonight. That’s the deal.”

“Little late for that doncha think?” I snapped.

“You know what I mean—no coke, Jackie. Last time you were gone for three days.”

“But what an amazing three days it was,” I joked.

Nicole held out her hand to pinky-swear.

“Fine.” I hooked her little finger with mine and gave it a hard twist. Nicole twisted back until I let go.

“All right. You win. Now, will you make the call?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

This was the deal. Nicole had a special gift. She could get us in anywhere—clubs, premieres. She would call up the person in charge pretending to be my publicist and somehow make them believe that even though they had never heard of me they should know who I was and that if they didn’t it was because they were not doing their job. She demanded VIP treatment, wielding the Goldstein name like she was the cappo di tutti cappi. I could never make a call like that on my own behalf.

“You should do this stuff for a living,” I said. “Seriously, Nic, this town is full of people getting paid to make scary phone calls for other people so that they won’t have to risk getting rejected themselves.”

“Yeah, yeah, go back to your fantasy world, Jackie baby.”

“Marco?” a deep voice from the pool called out.

“Polo!” several other voices called in return.

I lit another joint then turned onto my stomach so my tan would even.

Nicole turned over too. “Just wait ‘til you’re on the soap,” she said. “You’ll meet plenty of guys.”

“I’ll bet they’re all gay too.” I took another hit and exhaled, tasting the sweet smoke pass through my lips, watching it drift away over the pool.

“Not the actors, the grips.”