passed since Laura had asked her didnât seem at all importantâthey both had only one thing on their minds right now.
âYou donât have to tell me anything, Ginny,â Laura said after a moment.
âItâs no big confession,â Ginny laughed a little stiffly. âYouâd probably get a better âstoryâ out of hundreds of other women.â
âBut Iâm not interested in other women right now.â Even as she said it, Laura felt that she should not have phrased it quite that way. But Ginny had not seemed to notice.
âI came to Hollywood a little over a year ago on contract to Excelsior. But there was nothing for me to do. Oh, Iâd get a bit part here and there, but nothing worth mentioning. I found one of those cheap, stamp-size apartments on Melrose and tried to make the best of it.â She paused. Laura waited.
âAfter about two months of crumbs, I got another bit part. Only this time in a picture starring Saundra. Iâd heard a great deal about her, of course.â Ginny exhaled, then said, wryly, âBut not enough!â
Laura kept her eyes on the road. The evening sun was just horizon level, casting long dark shadows across the road, yet bright enough to sparkle on the glass and chrome of other cars. âAnyhow,â Ginny went on in a soft voice, âSaundra seemed to pick me out from the others. She began by asking me to do things for her: she forgot something in her dressing room, a cup of coffee between takes, cue her for a sceneâthat sort of thing.â Her voice sounded weary and hard.
Laura nodded.
âThe next thing I knew, she was telling me that she believed in meâthought I had what she called an outstanding talent. But I needed coaching, she said. I was too immature, stiff, and needed rounding out. Not just with my acting, she explained, but as a person, too. An actress of stature could not separate her personality from her career and remain on topâmuch less reach the top.â
âOf course, you were impressed,â Laura said with a trace of sarcasm.
âImpressed?â Ginny laughed. âI was walking on air!â
âGo on,â Laura said.
âSaundra was going to teach me the ropes, and I was spellbound. She can be pretty spellbinding, you know. Why, according to her Iâd be a star in no time at all.â
Laura nodded grimly, and Ginny went on. âShe began by having me over to her house on Saturday morningsâher last husband played golf then. Diction, posture, dress, just about everything.
âOne day I showed up and she was still in her dressing gown . . . said that her husband had gone out of town and that her housekeeper had gone to Oakland to be with her sister and that she was all alone and terribly bored, and . . .â
âAnd would you stay overnight with her?â Laura supplied knowingly.
âYes.â
âAnd you accepted?â
âYes.â Ginny twisted in her seat. âIt never occurred to me that . . . that . . .â
âAll right, I get the idea.â Laura felt a little sick to her stomach. She was torn between hating Ginny for being such a dumb little kid, and marvelling at her spirit. You donât hate people for being dumb, she told herself; you hate them for pinpointing your own weaknesses. Oh, sure, Laura sneered silently to herself, now I suppose you think youâre a pervert like Ginny.
It was an unkindâand uncomfortableâthought.
âBut why did you stick it out all this time? Thatâs what I really would like to understand.â
Ginny didnât answer immediately. Then, âI suppose youâre thinking that Iâm over twenty-one and could have walked out, that nobody was holding me prisoner.â
âSomething like that.â
âIâm not sure I can explain it to you,â Ginny said.
Laura waited for her to try but was beginning to feel uneasy with the whole conversation. She