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anymore, unless they’re plugging a show.”
    “Ointment or suppository?”
    “Again, both.”
    He slumped against the refrigerator. “Holy inflatable seat donuts, Batman.”
    “Very funny,” she said, drumming her long, manicured nails atop the dining room table. “I should have known this was coming.”
    Duncan finally sat down at the opposite end, facing her. Elbows on the table, he then bowed his head into his hands, feigning ruin. “What will the guys at the lodge say?” he whimpered. “The neighbors? Reverend Williams? Mom ?”
    A smile was slinking beneath her cool exterior. “ Reverend Williams ?Not in this lifetime . ”
    He looked up at her, horror in his eyes. “You don’t have to demonstrate its… application! Do you?”
    She leaned forward. “Dammit, Dunc! Are you proud of me, or not?”
    He straightened, the mischief in his voice waning. “Oh, of course I am, sweetheart.” And he truly was, proud as punch, but this was just too grand an opportunity to let fully pass without some rib-poking.
    He got up, walked over to her, put his arms around her shoulders. “Congratulations.” He kissed the top of her head. “Just don’t make an ass out of yourself.”
    She finally laughed. “My big break finally comes, and suddenly I’m feeling like Sally Struthers.”
    He started for the refrigerator. “Now there’s an actress who could point you in the right direction, give you some up-front advice on the do’s and don’ts of commercial making.”
    She lit a cigarette. “Pu- leese .” She blew a cloud of blue smoke in his direction. “Did I mention the hefty paycheck?”
    He popped open a can of beer and said, “You mean you’re doing it just for the money?”
    “We’re talking a hell of a start on Amy’s college education,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm. She pulled the contract from her purse, pointing to the figures that ran the full length of the right margin. “See?”
    Perplexed, he said, “I thought we’d already pigeonholed enough for Amy’s college tuition.”
    “Well, not graduate school, we haven’t.”
    “My daughter, the doctor,” he said, smiling proudly. “I can hear her now at the graduation ceremonies: ‘And to my dear mother, who literally sold her ass so that I might one day—’”
    “Enough with the butt jokes already,” she warned, handing him the contract.
    “Wow,” he said. “Press hard for nine copies.” He perused the legal jargon, nodding now and again, as if in agreement.
    “Careful,” she said, “the ink’s still wet. And don’t dribble any beer on it. I have to sign it and give it back to Stills first thing tomorrow.”
    “Speaking of Stills, I see here that your esteemed agent won’t have to worry about his kids’ college education, either.”
    “Yeah,” she sighed. “Roughly thirty-percent, but that’s standard. It’s a fair arrangement.”
    His eyes bore down upon the paper. “Really? Let’s see here: after Still’s cut, there’s the Screen Actors Guild, Uncle Sam—”
    “Gawd, Duncan,” she whined, “can’t you for once just find the bright side to something?”
    He gave her back the contract. “You’re right. I’m being a poop—er, tease.” He downed the rest of his beer, then belched wetly.
    “Charming,” she said.
    “Okay, this is truly cause for celebration. Let’s you, me, and Amy go out to dinner tonight. Any restaurant you want.”
    “But ... Juanita has din—”
    “Let her eat it,” he said, not hiding his revulsion. “By the way, where is the old hunchback?”
    “Grocery store, then she’ll swing by and pick Amy up from school.” Rachel, her eleven years of residency in LA having made her overly cautious, did not allow Amy to take the bus when at all possible. “And, as her employer,” she continued, “I don’t think it’s very sporting of you to name-call behind her back.” She crushed out her cigarette. “I wish to hell you two would kiss and make up.”
    Duncan winced at the thought,