When she finished her lunch she was still hungry. She ordered a cup of black coffee. It would probably make her even hungrier, she thought. And, God, it was five hours until supper!

She was in a foul mood. Not in the mood for company, and especially not in the mood for the company of H. Morton Cooperman, of the Metro-Magnum Studios public relations staff.

"May I join you, darling?"

"What if I said no?"

"I was on Stage Eleven, looking for you," Mort said as he slid into a chair and picked up one of her french fries. "Do you mind?"

"I hope you choke on it," Veronica said.

"Stefan told me he'd been hard on you," Mort said. "He said the final result was magnificent."

"How would he know?"

"We all admire your professionalism, darling," Mort said. "Your willingness to strive for perfection."

"What do you want, Mort? I'm really in no mood for your bullshit."

"How do you feel about going on a war bond tour?"

"No way. I'm tired. I get a month off. Read my contract."

"Mr. Roth thought you'd be pleased we've been able to arrange this for you."

"Mr. Roth is as full of shit as you are."

"This is not an ordinary war bond tour, darling. This one is worthy of you. These are Marines, fresh from Guadalcanal. An absolutely magnificent Marine named Machine Gun McCoy, who's going to get the Medal of Honor. And a group of pilots, all of them aces. The publicity will be wonderful."

"Listen carefully, Mort: No!"

"All orchestrated by the master flack of them all, our own beloved Jake Dillon. You'll almost certainly get a Life cover."

"Jake is in Australia, or some goddamned place like that."

"Jake is in Los Angeles."

"Since when?"

"I don't know since when, darling, all I know is that he'll be here tomorrow at half past nine to set this thing up. I'd love to be able to tell him that you'll be going with it."

He didn't call me, the sonofabitch!

"Fuck you, Mort, and fuck Jake, too," Miss Wood said, then rose from the table and marched magnificently out of the commissary to a waiting studio Lincoln limousine.

The chauffeur pushed himself off the fender and opened the door for her, after which he ran around the front and slipped behind the wheel.

When he paused at the gatehouse, the chauffeur turned around.

"Would you like me to stop anywhere, Miss Wood?"

"Just take me home, please," Veronica replied. But then asked: "Do you think you could find Mr. Dillon's place in Malibu?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Would you like me to take you there?"

No, you jackass, I'm just asking for the hell of it; I'm writing a goddamn book.

"Would you, please?" she asked sweetly.

The nature of Miss Wood's relationship with Jake Dillon was such that she did not feel it necessary to knock at the front door and seek admission from one of Jake's Mexicans. When the limousine pulled up before the house, she was out of the car before the chauffeur could get out from behind the wheel.

"Wait!" she called over her shoulder, and went around the side of the house, down the path to the beach, and up the circular stairs to the sun deck.

A black-haired woman in shorts (young, good skin, nice legs, boobs a little too big) was sitting in one of Jake's chairs. A skinny kid in swim trunks and a T-shirt was in the other.

If these two didn't just get out of the sack, my name is Ethel Barrymore.

"Who the hell are you?" Miss Wood inquired.

The broad with the too-big boobs stood up.

"My name is Dawn Morris, Miss Wood," she said. "I'm a nurse."

"You're a what?"

"I'm taking care of Corporal Easterbrook, Miss Wood," Dawn said, indicating the Easterbunny.

"I'll bet you are," Miss Wood said. "Where's Jake Dillon?"

"He went into Los Angeles," the kid said. "Are you who I think you are?"

"That would depend, honey, wouldn't it, on who you think I am?" Veronica said, and immediately regretted it. He was just a kid.

But what the hell is going on here with Jake and a hooker and a kid?

"She said she was taking care of you," Veronica said. "You're sick?"

"I had a little malaria," the Easterbunny said.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Jake Dillon said from behind her, in the house.

She turned and looked at him.

"You could have called me, you sonofabitch!" Miss Wood said.

"Hi there, Veronica!" Jake Dillon said with a cheerful wave, then smiled and opened his arms.

"Oh, goddamn you, Jake!" Miss Wood said, rushing over to him and wrapping her arms around him. "You bastard! I was so worried about you!"

Over Veronica Wood's shoulder, Major Dillon winked at the Easterbunny.

I don't believe any of this, the Easterbunny thought. That's really Veronica Wood, the movie star, even if she does swear like a drill instructor. And I just talked to her. And now Major Dillon is hugging her and she's crying and he's patting her on the back.

And I'm not on the 'Canal anymore, and it doesn't even seem like there is a war, or there ever was a war.

And thirty minutes ago I did it again with Dawn, who is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, better looking even than Veronica Wood, now that I can see her in real life. And she liked it. She didn't push me away or anything, just asked if she was sure I could, that she didn't want me to exert myself too much, and get sick again.

Veronica Wood let go of Jake Dillon and turned to face Dawn Morris and the Easterbunny, but she kept her arm around his back.

"I was just introducing myself to your friends, Jake."

"That's Bobby Easterbrook, a Marine from Guadalcanal," Jake said. "He's been a little under the weather, and Dawn has been taking care of him."

"He's a Marine?" Veronica asked incredulously.

"He's a Marine," Jake said firmly. "You saw the Life cover of the Marine firing the Browning Automatic Rifle?"