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  “Yes,” Clea said. “Porn about a woman achieving all her dreams. Classy porn.”

  “Sort of like ‘military intelligence,’ ” Davy said.

  “Shut up, Davy,” Clea said without looking at him. “This is completely different. It’s not gross stuff, it’s straight-to-video erotica for women.”

  “No,” Sophie said.

  Clea exhaled. “Sophie, what’s your favorite scene in The Big Easy?”

  “ Your luck’s about to change, cher, ” Sophie said automatically.

  “And what’s the only thing you don’t like about it?”

  “It’s too—” She broke off when she saw where Clea was going.

  “Short,” Amy finished for her. “I got it.” She cheered up some. “I like it.”

  “It’ll be romantic, not crude,” Clea said. “I was thinking maybe we should change the title, maybe to something like Cherished, because it’s about emotion, not sex.”

  “You want me to do a movie called Cherished?” Leo looked at Davy. “Get the cab back.”

  “The cab’s halfway to Cincinnati by now,” Davy said. “Look at my sister’s tape.”

  Leo sighed and moved to the monitor, and Sophie went to get him a Dove Bar, feeling sorry for him even if he was a porn king.

  “It’s going to need some work,” he said, when the last screen was dark again. “But Clea was right, you’ve got a good start there. It needs a lot more sex, of course.”

  Amy looked at Sophie and said, “We have somebody working on that.”

  “No, we don’t,” Sophie said.

  “And the score will add a lot,” Leo went on, and Amy winced.

  “I don’t know how—” she began, and Leo waved her away.

  “We can do that in L.A.,” he said. “No problem. Along with the titles and credits. You just shoot the footage and let us handle the details.”

  “The sound is a detail?” Sophie said, but Amy shushed her.

  “But mostly you need more sex,” Leo said. “A lot more nudity.”

  “Leo,” Clea said. “Don’t forget what I told you. This is women’s porn—”

  “Oh, no,” Sophie said, and Amy kicked her ankle.

  “Don’t get in Clea’s way,” she whispered to Sophie. “This is my chance.”

  “—so it’s not going to be vile like the other stuff you do,” Clea finished.

  Leo sighed. “I need skin.”

  Sophie winced, and Amy whispered, “He’s a real producer, Sophie, please.”

  “Jesus,” Davy said. “The Dempsey morals at work again.”

  Leo smiled at Clea, which didn’t look natural at all on him. “Now about Coming Cleaner—”

  “Later, Leo,” Clea said. “We’re making Cherished now.”

  “Cherished,” Leo said, and looked more depressed than ever.

  Rachel was out in the front yard watering what little grass there was when Leo came down the porch steps. He didn’t look like a big Hollywood producer. He was only a couple of inches taller than she was, and even though he was good-looking in a Hollywood kind of way, he looked tired and depressed. So when he said, “Are you the gofer around here?” she squeezed the water out of the front of her T-shirt and said, “That’s me,” without trying to be anything special.

  “I need a place to stay,” he said.

  “Sure.” She dropped the hose and started for the car. “Get in the car. I’ll take you to Larry’s Motel out by the Tavern.”

  “Larry’s Motel.”

  She turned back and saw his look of pain. “It’s all we’ve got.” Rachel opened the car door for him. “Just be grateful you’ve got me for a driver because we don’t have a taxi, either. You could be, like, walking.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” Leo said, and got in.

  “So you know Clea from L.A.?” Rachel said when they were on the road.

  “Yes.” Leo peered out the window.

  “Cool. I want to be the next Clea.”

  “No you don’t,” Leo said.

  Rachel flipped the neck of her damp T-shirt back and forth to get some breeze going there, too. “Why not? She’s rich and successful and she got out. Sounds good to me.”

  Leo didn’t answer, and she looked over in time to catch him staring at where her T-shirt was stuck to her chest.

  He caught her eye and said, “Sorry,” and she shrugged and said, “Hey, I was the one flapping the wet T-shirt.”

  “I still shouldn’t be leering. Sexual harassment.” Leo sounded mournful. “Life’s no fun anymore.”

  “Tell you what,” Rachel said. “You can sexually harass me if you want. I’m having a slow summer anyway. Want to look down my shirt?”

  Leo sighed. “So this is what it’s come to, teeny-boppers doing me favors. Middle age is hell.”

  “I’m not a teeny-bopper,” Rachel said. “I’m twenty.”

  “Oh, shit.” Leo put his head in his hands. “Contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

  “I’m not a minor,” Rachel said. “I’m twenty. You can sleep with me and not go to jail. Of course, you have to, like, take me to L.A. first. I’ve had all the lousy sex in Temptation I can stand.”

  “But lousy sex in L.A. is okay?” Leo shook his head. “Lousy sex is lousy anyplace, kid.” He stopped and considered. “I don’t think I’ve ever had lousy sex.”

  “That’s ‘cause you’re a guy.” Rachel turned into the motel driveway.

  Leo stared at the motel with distaste as she parked in front of the lobby door. “So who runs this, Norman Bates?”

  “It’s okay, the showers don’t work anyway. Think of it as an adventure.”

  “I don’t want an adventure,” Leo said. “Adventures are for the young. Comfort is for the old.”

  “What time do you want me to pick you up, old guy?” Rachel said.

  “Soon,” Leo said as he got out. “Very, very soon.”

  “I’ll pick you up at five, then,” Rachel said. “Dinnertime.”

  Leo poked his head through the window. “Five is dinnertime here?”

  Rachel sighed. “When is it dinner in L.A.?”

  “No, no,” Leo said. “Five is fine. I missed lunch anyway.” His face changed suddenly from vaguely worried to downright apprehensive. “You do have restaurants here, right?”

  “Sure,” Rachel said. “There’s a restaurant in town and a diner, too. The food’s pretty good. It’s not fancy but it’s good.”

  “Okay.”

  He still looked doubtful, so she smiled at him and said, “And if you promise to buy, I’ll come have dinner with you in a blouse with the top button undone and you can harass me until dessert.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Leo nodded as he straightened away from the car. “That’ll go over great at Granny’s Home-Cooked Restaurant. Forget it, Lolita. I’ll eat alone.”

  For some reason, that hurt. “Okay.”

  She put the car in gear just as he put his head down next to the window again.

  “Hey,” he said. “I was kidding. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  His eyes were kind, and she was so surprised she let the car die. “You didn’t. Really. I just wanted to eat dinner with you. And hear about Hollywood.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Pick me up at five with all your buttons buttoned.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “At five, kid. I’ll tell you what a big shot I am. You’re the only one who’ll believe it anyway.”

  Rachel nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Leo waved her off, and she watched as he headed for the motel door, shaking his head as he checked out the turquoise panels near the entrance. He wasn’t really upset, she realized as she pulled back onto the road. It was just his way. Like Eeyore. She should tell him that at dinner. “You’re the Eeyore of L.A.,” she’d tell him, and he’d have to laugh. Getting a laugh out of him wouldn’t be easy, but she’d do it before dessert. He should take her back to L.A. with him just for the laughs—

  She slowed the car. There