“I let my prescription run out,” his voice came back strongly. “I’m all right now. I’ve got colitis.”

“I’m sorry to call when you’re sick.”

“Never mind. I’m always sick. Yes, come today, after five, all right? The room isn’t bad.”

“I’ll be there then.”

He gave her the house number. “There’s one thing though,” he added. “The place is full of cats. That’s a drawback. It can smell pretty bad.”

“As long as nobody beats them…”

“What?”

“I hope you feel better soon.”

“Never!” he said gaily.

She bought a pack of cigarettes, some oranges and a loaf of bread at a grocer’s. After they had eaten, Johnnie said he had some sewing to pick up from the wardrobe department. She drove out to Paramount Studios with him and waited in the car while he went to fetch it. Outside the gates, on a triangular patch of wiry grass, sat a canvas tepee. In front of the tent flap, spread out on a wooden camp chair, socks and a man’s undershorts were drying in the sunlight. As Annie looked at the tepee wonderingly, the tent flap was pushed aside and a young man emerged wearing cowboy boots, tight jeans and a plaid shirt. With a flourish, he placed a ten-gallon hat on his big head. He felt the underwear, shook his head, then did some fast kneebends. Not one of the people passing back and forth through the studio gates gave him so much as a glance. Johnnie returned after a few minutes clasping a box tied with a string.

“Thank God for old lovers,” he said, flinging the box into the back seat. As they drove away, she asked him if he had noticed the cowboy. “Oh, he’s been there for months,” he said. “He thinks he’ll break them down someday. But movie people are funny. He’s trying too hard and they’re used to freaks. They only get interested if you ignore them. Then they feel insulted and have to give you something to do just to save face.”

“But how does he live?”

“Oh, Annie, how do I live? Maybe he’s a hustler. Maybe he saved up a little money before he pitched that tent. Maybe he eats babies. What’s that address on Sycamore? Listen, could you buy a little gas for this poor old biddy? Now that you’re so rich!”

She opened a little cloth change purse and gave him a five-dollar bill. “My God! You’re keeping me!” he said.

“If you drop me off now, I’ll be too early.”

“Well, dear, you’ll just have to be too early.”

He’s up to something, she thought. He glanced at her quickly as though aware of her suspicion. He pursed up his lips. She braced herself for one of his fits of obscene reminiscence. But he merely smiled.