Regardless of our differences I was exhaustingly attracted and in love with Brett, my existence a perpetual state of puppy lust, panting and pawing for a scrap of his attention. It wasn’t so much the competition of leading ladies that fed my insecurity, nor the thousands of fangirls whose provocative snapshots spilled from his mail. Brett never flirted with women in front of me or gave me reasons to be jealous. What really had me flailing on the hook was his sexual indifference and his unwillingness to discuss it. When we did have sex, every week or so, Brett was ever the gentleman making sure I orgasmed before him. But then his batteries went dead. Kaput. Sex for Brett was like a big heavy Italian meal. For me, it was Chinese food.

Inevitably, I would collapse back into my need for reassurance.

“Are you happy with me?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Are you sure?”

“About what?”

“You know, is there something you want in bed that I’m not doing?”

“No.”

“I feel like you’re holding something back.”

“I’m not.”

“Why don’t you want oral sex?”

“It’s just not my thing.”

“I could just do it to you, you don’t have to do it back.”

“For Lord’s sake, Jackie. Quit harping about things.”

“Is something wrong with me?”

“No, Jackie. Stop it! You’re perfect.”

Then fuck me, you withholding prick! I wanted to scream but instead, I’d smile sweetly. “Okay then,” I’d say while putting on my PJs, “just thought I’d check in.” Then I’d wait until he fell asleep before once again taking out my trusty vibrator. I’d always been insecure, not thinking myself pretty enough or tall or thin enough, but never had I doubted my proficiency. Sex was my ace in the hole.

Naturally, I toyed with the idea that Brett was gay. I had heard gossip to that effect, but rumors like that dogged every leading man in Hollywood, and my assistant Scotty, who had faultless intuition, had diagnosed Brett as “pure hetero.” I knew I should be grateful. Here I was, living with the nicest, most handsome, and considerate guy in the world. Wasn’t that enough?

The hardest part was keeping my fears and frustrations locked inside. Since Nicole, I hadn’t had a single close friend. How could I trust anyone? You never knew who might sell you out to the tabloids. Katie, my makeup person was cool, but after a couple of drinks, she tended to gossip. I could confide some things to Penny, she knew us best having smartly signed Brett before Space Story, but Penny lived with three cats and was the last person to advise about relationships.