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isn’t it?”
    For the first time, Ellie smiled. “I know. Fags use it on their face. Smooths out the wrinkles, I’m told. I’ve never gotten around to trying it. I’ve invited Larry to dinner tomorrow. He’s cooking.”
    Marisa said, “I remember.”
    “Robert called,” said Ellie. “He’s in Chicago.”
    Marisa stood up and reached out to stroke a bust of Caligula on a nearby end table. “I know. The publisher’s sending him on a ten city tour. Seems the book’s taking off and starting to do well.”
    “Robert was kind,” said Ellie, as she and Louie walked toward Marisa. “Very, very kind.”
    That’s a change, thought Marisa.
    Ellie looked down at Louie. “He told me the book’s in its third printing and it looks as if Paramount will definitely come up with a six-figure offer. Robert says he’ll do the script and help with the casting. He thinks he’ll be a very rich author.”
    The sneer corner of Marisa’s mouth edged up a little higher. “That’s Robert for you. Advertisements for him self.”
    Then she forced more warmth into her voice. “It was nice of him to call.”
    “He finally seems to be getting the success he’s always wanted. He deserves it. Years and years of writing and nothing to show for it until now. You must be very happy for him.”
    Marisa smiled. Not really, she thought.
    Ellie squatted down beside the Great Dane and stroked his throat. His mouth was open and Marisa could see the large, jagged teeth now wet with saliva. Louie could probably demolish Ellie in two bites and have room in his stomach for more, but the dog was devoted to her. Ellie walked him, fed him, cared for him, pampered him. Louie was the closest thing she’d ever had to a child. Marisa was sure that Ellie preferred Louie to children, which wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Marisa didn’t want children either. She wanted to be an actress and she wanted to find the perfect lover. So far she was making do with one out of two.
    “Louie has to eat,” said Ellie. “I’ll take him into the kitchen and feed him. After that, we’ll walk over to Central Park so he can stretch his legs.”
    Ellie grinned. “You know the New York law that you’re supposed to clean up after your dog.”
    “The poop scoop law.”
    “Right. Well, after the law was passed I went out and bought a pooper scooper. Ellie Shields, good citizen, right? Marisa, don’t ever try to clean up after a Great Dane. Louie dumped a pile, the size of which …”
    Ellie laughed. Too loudly, too shrilly.
    Drying the tears, Ellie said, “Nat and I laughed about that for weeks. Naturally, we no longer scoop up after Louie.”
    “Naturally. Could I use your phone? I want to check my answering service. My agent says I’m up for a voice-over. A day’s work and you do it in curlers and slacks. Just speak into the microphone and sound like you’re having an orgasm over chocolate chip cookies. Ten minutes later you’re through and you’ve made a few bucks.”
    “Sure thing. It’s right over there behind the harpsichord. The table with the address book and the ashtray. Nat hated smoking, but you have to keep ashtrays around for guests. Louie and I will be in the kitchen.”
    Marisa watched her leave and waited a few seconds to make sure Ellie wasn’t immediately coming back. Then she hurried to the phone, picked up the address book and quickly turned the pages until she found the name she was looking for.
    Shifting so that she was facing toward the kitchen and could see Ellie when she returned, Marisa dialed and waited. Come on, come on. Answer.
    The phone continued to ring. Then—
    “Hello?”
    “Larry? Marisa.”
    “Oh, Marisa. How’s it going?”
    “Not bad. How do you feel?”
    “Fucking rotten, man. Feel like somebody ripped out my insides. I’m slightly stoned so if I sound funny, don’t get uptight, okay?”
    “Okay. Larry, a quick question. Did Nat ever tell you he had the feeling he was being followed?”
    Larry sighed into