side road. We walked to CC Brown’s. “They have better ice cream,” I said as we walked in. I was putting her in her place. I wasn’t going to be photographed with her unless I wanted to be, unless it was my idea. I certainly wasn’t going to be pushed around by somebody less famous than I was. Celia nodded, feeling the sting. The two of us sat down, and the guy behind the counter came up to us, momentarily speechless. “Uh...” he said. “Do you want menus?” I shook my head. “I know what I want. Celia?” She looked at him. “Chocolate malt, please.” I watched the way his eyes fixed on her, the way she bent forward slightly with her arms together, emphasizing her chest. She seemed unaware of what she was doing, and that mesmerized him even more. “And I'll have a strawberry milk shake,” I said. When he looked at me, I saw his eyes open wider, as if he wanted to see as much of me as he could at one time. “Are you... Evelyn Hugo?” “No,” I said, and then I smiled and looked him right in the eye. It was ironic and teasing, with the same tone and inflection I’d used countless times when I was recognized around town. He scattered away. “Cheer up, buttercup,” I said as I looked at Celia. She was staring down at the glossy counter. “You’re getting a better milk shake out of the deal.” “I upset you,” she said. “With the Schwab’s thing. I’m sorry.” “Celia, if you’re going to be as big as you clearly want to be, you need to learn two things.” “And what are they?” “First, you have to push people’s boundaries and not feel bad about it. No one is going to give you anything if you don’t ask for it. You tried. You were told no. Get over it.”