Sweet Revenge

or two she would have the men of this town, of any town, falling at her feet. “She’s a treasure, Phoebe. My daughter Marjorie’s seventeen. I haven’t seen her in anything but ripped blue jeans in three years, and she does whatever she can to make my life miserable. I envy you.”
    “Addy’s never given me a moment’s trouble. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”
    “She’s devoted to you.” He lowered his voice. “Have you thought any more about seeing the doctor I suggested?”
    “I haven’t had time,” she hedged, wishing he’d leave her alone long enough for her to slip into the ladies’ room and swallow another pill. “And to tell you the truth, I’ve been feeling a lot better. Analysis is overrated, Michael. At times I think the movie industry was formed to support psychiatrists and plastic surgeons.”
    He bit back a sigh. She was high on something and falling fast. “It never hurts to talk to someone.”
    “I’ll think about it.”
    Adrianne took her time, knowing that if he had the opportunity, Michael would speak to her mother about therapy. He’d already discussed it with Adrianne when he had found her nearly hysterical at not being able to get Phoebe to respond one afternoon after school. Phoebe had simply sat there, mute, staring out the window of her room.
    There had been excuses when she had come around. Fatigue, overwork, tranquilizers. Michael had talked to them both about getting help, but Phoebe was dragging her feet. It was for that reason Adrianne desperately wanted to get her mother back to New York, away from Larry Curtis and his abundantly supplied drugs.
    She didn’t have to be an adult to know it was snowing in southern California. Cocaine had become the drug of choice in the movie industry. Too often it was served as casually as a catered lunch on the sets. So far Phoebe had refused it, preferring the hell of her pills to the hell of the powder, but Adrianne knew sooner or later the day would come. She had to get Phoebe away before that last line was crossed.
    Adrianne sipped her Pepsi and took a slow circle around the room. She couldn’t say she disliked all the people in the world her mother had chosen. Many of them were like Michael Adams, genuinely talented, loyal to friends, dedicated to a business that often called for grinding schedules with only flickers of glamour.
    And she enjoyed the glamour, the meals in elegant restaurants, the wonderful clothes. She understood herself well enough to know she would find it hard to be satisfied with the ordinary. But she didn’t want the extraordinary at the cost of her mother’s sanity.
    “God, did you see the dress?” Althea Gray took a drag on a cigarette and nodded in Phoebe’s direction. Adrianne stopped behind her. “You’d think she needed to let everyone know she still has those breasts.”
    “After her last couple of movies,” her companion commented, “no one should have any doubt. They should have gotten twin billing.”
    Althea laughed. “Looks like an Amazon beyond her prime. You know, she actually believed she was going to be offered the part of Melanie. Everyone knows she’ll never get a decent part again. If it wasn’t so pathetic, it might be funny.”
    “She had something once,” the man beside Althea said softly. “There’s never been anyone quite like her.”
    “Really, darling.” Althea crushed out her cigarette. “Cruises down memory lane are so frigging boring.”
    “Not as boring as hearing a second-rate actress whine.” Adrianne spoke clearly, and didn’t flinch when heads turned in her direction.
    “Oh, dear.” Althea tapped her bottom lip with a fingertip. “Little pitchers have big ears.”
    Adrianne faced her, woman to woman. “Small talents have large egos.”
    When her companion chuckled, Althea sent him a fulminating look, then tossed back her hair. “Run along, dear. This is an adult conversation.”
    “Really?” Adrianne controlled the urge to toss her soda in Althea’s face, and sipped from it instead. “It sounded remarkably immature to me. Dear.”
    “Rude little brat.” Althea shrugged off her companion’s restraining arm and took a step forward. “Someone ought to teach you some manners.”
    “I don’t need lessons in manners from a woman like you.” She flicked her glance over Althea, then scanned the group surrounding her. It was a long, steady look, cold enough and adult enough to make them squirm. “I don’t see anyone