Don could barely look at me. But he glanced and then nodded his head. He was boyish and ashamed, as if I were asking him if he’d been the one to break the neighbor’s window. “Go out there and tell Bobby I’m having lady troubles. He'll be too embarrassed to ask anything else. Then tell your wardrobe person to meet you in my dressing room. Have Bobby tell mine to meet me in here in a half hour.” “OK,” he said, and then grabbed his jacket and slipped out. The minute he was out the door, I locked myself inside and slumped down against the wall, the tears coming fast the moment no one could see them. I had made my way three thousand miles from where I was born. I had found a way to be in the right place at the right time. I’d changed my name. Changed my hair. Changed my teeth and my body. I’d learned how to act. I’d made the right friends. I’d married into a famous family. Most of America knew my name. And yet... And yet. I got up off the floor and wiped my eyes. I gathered myself. I sat down at the vanity, three mirrors in front of me lined with lightbulbs. How silly is it that I thought that if I ever found myself in a movie star’s dressing room, that meant I’d have no troubles? A few moments later, Gwendolyn knocked on the door to do my hair. “One second!” I yelled out. “Evelyn, we have to move quickly. You guys are already behind schedule.” “Just one second!” I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I couldn’t force the redness to go away. The question was whether I trusted Gwen. And I decided I did, I had to. I stood up and opened the door. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “You look a fright.” “T know.”