Tentatively she sits and places her white, vinyl purse in her lap. It shines a warning. I brace myself for…what? The onslaught of apologies for all the terrible things she’s done. The “I was a lousy mother and now it’s too late” speech. Is that what she’s prepared for our deathbed reunion? Or the opposite. Maybe she will tell me of the hurt I caused her, the unanswered phone messages, the appeal for letters, for news, and then finally the desperate plea for money. No check, Jacqueline? You were rich and I had nothing! You left your mother and your sister with nothing!

It is all true.

Did I love well?

Can I forgive my enemies?

My mother bends down, removes her shoe, and scratches at a place on the inside of her foot. Then she rises, crosses unsteadily to the window. She leans on the sill and looks out at the sky, the stars fading in the morning light, hoping as I am, to be rescued.

SLOW DISSOLVE TO:

INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S HOUSE

BEVERLY HILLS

DAY

1999

Brett continued showering me with love, attention, and sex, after which I’d lie awake running pros and cons, trying to come up with an equation that would let me take the Reiner picture and hang on to my boyfriend. I’d witnessed many show-business marriages break up where egos were involved. I was pretty sure our relationship was no exception.

Just as the offer was set to expire, Brett received a call from Manuel Vargas, the director who had won the Palme D’or at Cannes. Eighth Dimension wasn’t a brilliant script, but the character of “Pablo, a conflicted priest” was the kind of role into which Brett could finally sink his perfect teeth. And best of all, it shot in Zagreb for twelve weeks, freeing me up for Reiner.

I called Penny. “I’ll take the picture. Just keep it under wraps for a few days.”

“Great, I can get your dad off my back.”

Suddenly I had a sense that maybe the timing had been too convenient. “Penny, did you and Daddy have something to do with Brett getting that film in Zagreb?”

“Gotta go, sweetie. Call coming in.” Click.

Patches and Pistols was scheduled to open and as the date approached, the tabloids began grinding out story after story about our relationship. We were breaking up, we were secretly engaged, Brett was having an affair, I was pregnant with twins; stories engineered by the studio’s publicity department to gin up attention for the film.

It was a Thursday afternoon and we had finished making love. I was planning to tell Brett my big news about the Reiner picture over the weekend.

He loped up behind me as I was getting into the shower. “Let’s go away this weekend.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to!”