I DON’T WANT TO DO this,” Celia said. She was wearing a tailored black dress with a deep-V neckline. It was the kind of dress I could never wear out of the house or I’d be picked up on a prostitution charge. She had on a diamond necklace that Don had persuaded Sunset to loan to her. Sunset wasn’t in the business of helping freelance actresses, but Celia wanted the diamonds, and I wanted Celia to have anything she wanted. And Don wanted me to have anything I wanted, at least most of the time. Don had just starred in his second Western, The Righteous, after he had lobbied Ari Sullivan hard for one more crack at bat. This time, however, the reviews were telling a different story. Don had “manned up.” He was convincing everyone, on his sophomore try, that he was a formidable action star. Which translated into Don having the number one movie in the country and Ari Sullivan giving Don anything he asked for. That’s how those diamonds made their way onto Celia’s neck, the large center ruby resting at the top of her breasts. I was in emerald green again. It was a look that was starting to become my signature. This time, it was off the shoulder and made of peau de soie, with a cinched waist, full skirt, and beading on the neckline. My hair was down in a brushed-under bob. I looked over at Celia, who was looking in the mirror at my vanity, fiddling with her bouffant. “You have to do this,” I said. “I don’t want to. Doesn’t that count for anything?” I picked up my clutch, made to match my dress. “Not really,” I said. “You're not the boss of me, you know,” she said. “Why are we friends?” I asked her. “Honestly? I don’t even remember,” she said. “Because our whole is greater than the sum of our parts.” “And so what?”