“You’re kidding! I can’t imagine how this could ever get dull.”

“Well, it doesn’t get dull but it does get tiring.”

She clapped her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop ruining my illusion that celebrities’ lives are always glamorous!” Then she winked and took a sip of her soda.

I shook my head and grinned, relieved she seemed to be relaxing.

“Aren’t you the Queen of Sarcasm.”

She nodded solemnly. “It’s a gift. I’ve cultivated it over the years and raised it to an art form.”

“I’ll bet.”

It was a little after six when we finally pulled up to the theatre. The street was teeming with paparazzi and media, and as our car slowed to a stop in front of the theatre, Grace seemed to revert back to the timid girl she’d been at the beginning of the evening. She shrank back into the corner of the seat, staring unblinkingly at the crowd milling around on the sidewalk. “Oh my,” she murmured, as Alexis emerged from the car in front of us and the flashbulbs went nuts. It was like noon with all the cameras and the lights outside the theatre. “No one is going to talk to me, are they?”

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. They might ask your name or something so they know what to put in the photo captions.”

She drew in a deep breath as our car began to creep forward to the opening in the barricades that lined the sidewalk in front of the street. “I really don’t have anything to be nervous about, do I.” As she said it, she drew her wrap around her shoulders and watched Alexis move toward the theatre with her husband—her third, a television producer—in tow.

“ ‘Course not,” I replied. “All you have to do is smile and follow me and tell them who you are if anyone asks.” The car slowed, and her eyes widened even more as a valet reached for the door to let us out. I extended my hand. “Stick with me, kid.” I grinned and winked, and she flashed a weak smile as the door opened and we emerged from the backseat.

GRACE

I TOOK HIS HAND as the door opened, and then I couldn’t see because there was so much light in my eyes. I moved to the door and tried my hardest to be graceful as I got out, but I’m sure a recording of the event would show me fumbling to get my feet planted. Jack helped me out of the car, then released my hand as he moved toward the walkway lined with photographers and media. I walked after him, feeling at once ignored and the center of attention.