"I am an actress who once played a great role. Juliet in the best film adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, which no one remembers anymore. A great role may not sound like much, but in this city, you should know, it’s something most people never achieve. I have been married three times, twice to wealthy film producers whom I left with extremely favorable settlements—something else most people never achieve—and the third time to the only man I ever loved. A beautiful, young actor, like Adonis, penniless, unruly, and reckless. He took all my money and then left me. I still want him, but I hope he rots in Hell." She emptied her glass, set it on the counter, and signaled Ben to pour another. "And because I always fall in love with what I can’t have, I invested money I didn’t have in a film project based on a central, major role for an older female actress. Smart script, actors who really know how to act, and a director who makes you think—in other words, a work that every serious person knows is doomed to fail. So that’s who I am: a dreamer, a loser, and a typical Anjelena."

The man with the scar smiled. "Ah, we understand self-deprecating humor," said Lucille. "What’s your name?" "Harry." "You don’t talk much, Harry." "Hmm." "Swedish?" "Norwegian." "Are you on the run from somewhere?" "Do I look like it?" "Yes. I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. From your wife?" "She died." "Ah, so you’re trying to run away from grief then." Lucille raised her glass in a toast. "You know what my favorite place is? Laurel Canyon, just up the road. Not now, but the way it was in the late 1960s. I’m telling you, you would have loved it. If you’d been born, of course." "I was definitely born."