Sweet Revenge

thought of the nude layout she’d posed for the week before. It wasn’t the time to tell Adrianne about it. It was business, she reminded herself as she twisted her fingers together. Just business.
    “I’m sure it’s going to be a wonderful movie.” But the others hadn’t been, Adrianne reflected. The reviews had been insulting. She’d hated watching her mother embarrass herself on the screen, using her body instead of talent. Even now, after five years in California, Adrianne was aware that Phoebe had traded one kind of bondage for another.
    “When the picture is a success, a big success, we’ll have that house on the beach I promised you.”
    “We have a nice house.”
    “This little place …” Phoebe glanced out the window at the struggling garden separating them from the street. Therewas no grand stone wall, no pretty gates, no lush lawn. They were on the fringes of Beverly Hills, on the fringes of success. Phoebe’s name had dropped to the B list of Hollywood’s important hostesses. Major producers no longer sent her scripts.
    She thought of the palace she had whisked Adrianne away from and all its luxuries. It became easier as time went by to forget the limitations of Jaquir and remember the opulence.
    “It’s not what I want for you, not nearly what you deserve, but rebuilding a career takes time.”
    “I know.” They’d had this talk too many times before. “School’s out in a couple of weeks. I thought we might go to New York to visit Celeste. You could relax.”
    “Hmm? Oh, we’ll have to see. Larry’s negotiating for a part for me.”
    Adrianne felt her spirits sink. She didn’t have to be told that the part would be mediocre, or that her mother would spend hours away from home being manipulated by the men who’d chosen to exploit her body. The harder Phoebe tried to prove she could climb back on top, the faster she slipped toward the very bottom.
    Phoebe wanted her house on the ocean and her name up in lights. Adrianne could have resented Phoebe’s ambition, maybe even have fought it if the motives had been selfish. But what she did, she did out of love and a need to give. There was no way for Adrianne to make her see that she was building a cage as strong as the one she had escaped from.
    “Mama, you haven’t had any real time off in months. We could see Celeste’s new play, visit some museums. It would do you good.”
    “It’ll do me more good to watch everyone fuss over Princess Adrianne tonight. You look beautiful, sweetheart.” She put an arm around Adrianne’s shoulders as the two started for the door. “I bet the boys just break their hearts over you.”
    Adrianne shrugged. She wasn’t interested in boys or their hearts.
    “Well, tonight’s our night. It’s a shame Larry’s out of town so we don’t have a handsome man to escort us.”
    “We don’t need anyone but each other.”
    *  *  *
    Adrianne was used to the crowds, the flash of lights, and the cameras. Phoebe often worried that her daughter was too serious, but she never had cause to worry about Adrianne’s poise. Young as she was, she handled the press like royalty, smiling when a smile was required, answering questions without ever giving too much away, and fading into the background when she had reached the limit of her tolerance. As a result, the press adored her. It was common knowledge that the columns were kinder to Phoebe Spring than they had to be because they had a love affair going with her daughter. Adrianne knew it, and with the skill of someone twice her age, used it.
    She made certain that Phoebe stepped out of the car they had hired first, and that they stood arm in arm when the lights flashed. Any picture printed would be of both of them.
    Phoebe came alive. Adrianne had seen it happen before. Whenever it did, the fervor of her wish that her mother would divorce herself from the movie business diminished. There was happiness on Phoebe’s face, the kind of simple joy Adrianne saw there so rarely. She didn’t need pills now, or a bottle, or her daydreams.
    The crowd roared around her, the lights and music swelled. For an instant she was a star again.
    Pressed against the barricades, onlookers waited for a glimpse of their favorite celebrities and settled for lesser lights. Good-humored, they cheered for everyone while a few pockets were picked and a large number of packets of drugs casually changed hands.
    Seeing only the smiles, Phoebe stopped to wave, then bask in the sound