Of course you’ve fallen in love with him, Belinda would say. How could you help it? He’s a great man, baby. Just like Jimmy.

She told herself she hadn’t exactly fallen in love, not eternal love, anyway. That had to work two ways, didn’t it? But her feelings had grown more complex than a lust-crush. Maybe she simply had an advanced case of puppy love. Unfortunately she’d directed it toward a man who treated her as though she were twelve.

One Friday evening, Dick Spano had a party catered to the set. Fleur put on three-inch heels and a crepe de chine sarong that she tied at the bust. Every man on the set noticed except for Jake. He was too busy talking to Belinda. Belinda never gave him a hard time, never challenged him. No wonder he loved being with her.

Fleur started counting the days until they left for location in Iowa. The sooner this picture was over, the sooner she could return to New York and forget about Jake Koranda. If only she could come up with a plan for what she wanted to do with her life once this was all behind her.

Dick Spano rented out a motel not far from Iowa City to house the actors and crew and to serve as the production’s command post. Fleur’s room had a pair of ugly lamps, worn orange carpeting, and a reproduction of Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte bolted to the wall. The painting’s cardboard center curled in like a potato chip. Belinda wrinkled her nose as she studied it. “Lucky you. I got fake Van Gogh sunflowers.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Fleur said more sharply than she should have.

“Don’t be cranky, darling. You know I couldn’t stay behind. After all those miserable years in Paris with nothing to do but drink, this had been a dream come true.”

Fleur gazed up from the stack of bras she was putting away in the bureau. Even in this drab hotel room, Belinda looked happy. And why shouldn’t she? Belinda was living out her dream. But this wasn’t Fleur’s dream. She fixed her eyes on the bras. “I’ve been…sort of thinking about what I want to do when this is over.”

“Don’t think too hard, darling. That’s what we pay Gretchen and your agent for.” Belinda rummaged through Fleur’s cosmetic case and pulled out a hairbrush. “We’re going to have to make a decision soon, though, about the Paramount project. It really is tempting. Parker’s sure it’s right for you, but Gretchen hates the script. One way or another, we need to close the Estee Lauder deal first.”

Fleur took a pair of running shoes from her suitcase and tried to sound casual. “Maybe…we should wait awhile before we do anything. I wouldn’t mind taking some time off. We could travel, just the two of us. It’d be fun.”

“Don’t be silly, baby.” Belinda eyed her reflection in the mirror and fingered a lock of hair. “Maybe I should go lighter? What do you think?”

Fleur abandoned all pretense of unpacking. “I’d really like some time off. I’ve been working hard for three years, and I need a vacation. A chance to think some things over.”

She finally had Belinda’s complete attention. “Absolutely not.” Belinda slapped down the hairbrush. “Dropping out of sight now would be career suicide.”

“But…I want to take a break. It’s all happened so quickly. I mean, it’s been wonderful and everything, but…” Her words came out in a rush. “How do I know this is what I really want to do with my life?”

Belinda looked at her as if she’d gone crazy. “What more could you possibly want?”

Fleur couldn’t jump into another movie right away, and she hated the idea of more modeling, but she felt herself faltering. “I-I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? I guess it’s a little difficult to find something else to do when you’re already sitting on top of the world.”

“I’m not saying I want another career. I just…I just need some time to think about my choices. To make sure this is really what I want.”

Belinda turned into a cold, distant stranger. “Do you have something more exciting in mind than being the most famous model in the world? Something more glamorous than being a film star? What are you thinking about doing, Fleur? Do you want to be a secretary? Or a store clerk? Or how about a nurse’s aide? You could clean up vomit and scrub out bedpans. Is that good enough for you?”

“No, I-”

“Then what? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” She sank down on the edge of the bed.

Her mother punished her with silence.

Misery welled inside her. “I’m just…confused,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re not confused. You’re spoiled.” Belinda’s scorn scraped her skin like rough steel wool. “You’ve had everything you could possibly want handed to you, and you haven’t had to work for any of it. Do you realize how immature you sound? It might be different if you had a goal, but you don’t even have that. When I was your age, I knew exactly what I wanted out of life, and I was willing to do anything to get it.”

Fleur felt herself wilt. “Maybe…Maybe you’re right.”

Belinda was angry, and she wouldn’t let her off so easily. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m disappointed in you.” She crossed the sad orange carpet. “Think about what you’re planning to throw away, and when you’re ready to talk sensibly, come find me.” Without another word, she walked out.

Suddenly Fleur was a child again, back at the Couvent de l’Annonciation watching her mother disappear. She came up off the bed and rushed out into the hallway, but Belinda had vanished. Her palms got sweaty and her heart raced. She turned down the corridor and made her way to her mother’s room. No one answered when she knocked. She went back to her own room, but she couldn’t sit still.

She headed for the lobby and found it deserted except for a couple of crew members. Maybe Belinda had gone out to swim. But the only person around the small motel pool was a workman emptying the trash can. She went back into the lobby and spotted Johnny Guy. “Have you seen Belinda?”

He shook his head. “Maybe she’s in the bar.”

Her mother didn’t drink anymore, but Fleur had no place else to look.

Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dim light. She saw Belinda sitting at the corner table by herself, twirling a swizzle stick in what looked like a tumbler of scotch. All the blood rushed from her head. After three years of sobriety, her mother had fallen off the wagon, and Fleur was responsible.

She dashed over to her. “What are you doing? Please don’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Belinda stabbed the swizzle stick toward the bottom of the glass. “I’m not feeling like the best of company right now. Maybe you’d better leave me alone.”

Fleur fell into the chair across from her. “You’ve been doing so great. Just because you have an ungrateful daughter doesn’t mean you should punish yourself. I need you too much.”

Belinda gazed into her drink. “You don’t need me, baby. Apparently I’ve been pushing you into things you don’t want.”

“That’s not true.”

Belinda looked up, and her eyes were awash in tears. “I love you so much. I only want what’s best for you.”

Fleur grabbed her mother’s hand. “It’s like you’ve always said. There’s a bond between us, as if we’re one person, not two.” Her voice grew choked. “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. I’ve just been confused, that’s all.” She tried to smile. “Let’s go for a ride. We can make up our mind about Paramount.”

Belinda dipped her head. “Don’t resent me, baby. I couldn’t stand it if you resented me.”

“That’ll never happen. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Belinda gave her a watery smile and got up from her chair. Fleur bumped the edge of the table with her hip, and a little of Belinda’s drink sloshed over the rim. Only then did she notice how full the glass was. She stared at it for a moment. Belinda didn’t seem to have taken so much as a sip.

At the end of their first week in Iowa, Jake finally had a day off. He slept late, went for a run, then took a shower. He was just stepping out of the tub when he heard a knock. He tucked a towel around his hips and opened the door. Belinda stood on the other side.

She wore a simple blue and lavender wrap dress, and she dangled a white paper sack from her fingertips. “Want some breakfast?”

A feeling of inevitability came over him. Why the hell not? “Do you have coffee in there?”

“Strong and black.”

He gestured her in. She pulled the DO NOT DISTURB sign off the knob, hung it outside, then closed the door and withdrew two Styrofoam cups. As she handed his over, he smelled her perfume. She was one of the most fascinating women he’d ever met.

“Do you consider yourself a rebel, Jake?”

He peeled off the lid and dropped it in the wastebasket. “I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“I think you are.” She sat in the room’s only chair and crossed her legs so that her skirt fell open over her knees. “You’re a rebel without a cause. A man who follows his own drummer. That’s one of the things that excites me about you.”

“There’s more?” He smiled, only to realize that she was perfectly serious.

“Oh yes. Do you remember when you were on the run in Devil Slaughter? I loved that. I love it when it’s just you against them. That’s the kind of picture Jimmy would have made if he hadn’t died.”

“Jimmy?” He tossed the pillows against the headboard and settled into them.

“James Dean. You’ve always reminded me of him.” She rose and came toward the bed. In the dim light of the room, her blue eyes bathed him in admiration. “I’ve been so lonely,” she whispered. “Would you like me to get undressed for you?”

He’d gotten sick of playing games, and her directness was refreshing. “That’s the best offer I’ve had in months.”

“I want to please you.” She sat on the side of the bed and leaned forward to kiss him. As their lips met, her hands clasped his shoulders and began stroking his arms. He kissed her more deeply and touched her breast through the silky fabric of the dress. She immediately pulled away and began unfastening her blouse.

“Hey, slow down,” he said gently.

She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with confusion. “Don’t you want to see me?”

“We’ve got all day.”

“I only want to please you.”

“That works two ways.” He pushed her beneath him and slipped his hand under her skirt.

When Belinda felt Jake’s hand on her thigh, she saw the scene in Devil Slaughter where Bird Dog tangled with the beautiful Englishwoman. She remembered how he’d pulled her off her horse into his arms, how he’d run his hands over her body searching for the knife he knew she carried. As Jake’s hand circled her thigh, she pretended he was searching her.

Her mouth fell open to his kisses…wonderful, deep kisses. She’d meant to undress for him, but he took off her clothes, one item at a time. It didn’t feel right seeing his face so close, so she shut her eyes again and visualized the way he looked on the screen.

Better. So much better…

She parted her legs to offer herself. His beard scraped her skin, deliciously hurting her. And then he stopped.

As Jake gazed at Belinda’s closed eyes, he knew he’d made a big mistake. She was completely passive, like some kind of vestal virgin offering herself up to the gods. The adoration she’d showered him with since they day they’d met now felt faintly creepy. He could do whatever he wanted, but this was like making love to a blow-up doll.

Her eyes flickered open. He had the urge to wave his hands in front of her to see if she was still there. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

He told himself to do it and get it over with, but the image of Flower’s face popped into his head, and what had only seemed creepy now felt sordid. “Second thoughts,” he said, pulling away from her. “Sorry.”

She reached up and touched his shoulder. He waited for the cross-examination to begin-tried to figure out what to say-but to his shock, it didn’t happen. “All right,” she said.

Moments later, she was gone.

Three days passed, but as Jake sat on the back of a tractor, his bare chest oiled with phony sweat, the incident continued to bother him. He spotted Belinda perched by the wardrobe trailer reading a magazine. He’d been doing his best to avoid her. Unnecessary, as it turned out, because she treated him exactly as she had before. She didn’t seem to expect anything from him, and that alone was unsettling.

“Here’s your shirt.”

He hadn’t seen Lynn approach. “Since when are you working wardrobe?” he said, as he took the denim shirt from her.

“I wanted to talk to you without anybody listening in.” Lynn folded her arms over the phony pregnancy padding beneath her maternity top. Something in her determined expression made him wary. “I saw Belinda go into your room the other morning.”