Chapter 4: Low Tide

I took her wrist and lifted her hand off me.

"Touch me again," I said, "and I'll find out how much of that face is glued on."

Vivica laughed, light and pretty.

Helena's friends laughed with her because they didn't know what else to do.

I walked out through the house with my knees shaking and got into Bea's Volvo.

"Well?" Bea said.

"Drive."

She drove.

Three days later, on Saturday, I had a premiere.

Low Tide was the first film where my name sat above the title.

I'd spent eleven weeks in cold water in Oregon for it.

I wasn't going to let anyone take the carpet from me.

Bea zipped me into a dark green silk dress in the back of the town car outside the theater on Hollywood Boulevard.

"You look like money," she said. "Mean money. Remember to breathe."

"Is she here?"

Bea pressed her lips together.

"Helena's foundation bought a sponsor table last week," she said. "So yes. They're both here."

I got out of the car into the flashes.

The first two minutes were good.

I posed with my director. I answered three questions about the water.

Then the shouting changed.

"Vivica! Vivica, over here!"

She came down the carpet on Helena's arm in pale gold, hair loose, face lifted to the light.

My face.

The photographers went wild.

A man with a big lens waved both his arms at us.

"Juno! Vivica! Together! Just one together!"

"Side by side, ladies, please!"

Vivica glided over and stopped next to me.

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