Alan Thomas was his new agent. Alan had been encouraging Don to leave Sunset Studios, to go freelance. A lot of actors were navigating their careers on their own. It was leading to big paychecks for big stars. And Don was getting antsy. He kept talking about making more for one picture than his parents had made their whole careers. Be wary of men with something to prove. “People around town are asking why you’re still going by Evelyn Hugo.” “I changed my name legally. What do you mean?” “On the marquee. It should say ‘Don and Evelyn Adler.’ That’s what people are saying.” “Who is saying that?” “People.” “What people?” “They think you wear the pants.” My head fell into my hands. “Don, you’re being silly.” Another car came up around us, and I watched as they recognized Don and me. We were seconds away from a full page in Sub Rosa magazine about how Hollywood’s favorite couple were at each other’s throat. They’d probably say something like “The Adlers Gone Madlers?” I suspected Don saw the headlines writing themselves at the same time I did, because he started the car and drove us to set. When we pulled onto the lot, I said, “I can’t believe we’re almost forty-five minutes late.” And Don said, “Yeah, well, we’re Adlers. We can be.” I found it absolutely repugnant. I waited until the two of us were in his trailer, and I said, “When you talk like that, you sound like a horse’s ass. You shouldn’t say things like that where people can hear you.” He was taking off his jacket. Wardrobe was due in any moment. I should have just left and gone to my own trailer. I should have let him be. “I think you have gotten the wrong impression here, Evelyn,” Don said.