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"I was thinking," said Mary Beth sadly, "why should we go?" It was early Saturday morning. She and Linda Kate had just enjoyed a continental breakfast at their Beverly Hills hotel. Now they were getting ready to drive down to the southside of LA and stand in line for bleacher seats at the Shrine Auditorium.

"We were never coming just to see Stannie," said Linda Kate in a cool voice.

"We weren't?"

"No."

"I think I was."

"Well maybe you were. I wasn't."

"What did you come for?"

"I wanted a fun road trip."

Mary Beth reflected for a second and decided that the road trip hadn't been that fun. She thought of their afternoon at the world's largest cowboy supply store in Houston, looking for Arabian riding boots to match the rest of Linda Kate's designer tack (Linda didn't even ride—just collected). Afterwards, Linda refused to eat barbecue even though it was Mary Beth's favorite and she'd been so patient with the boot shopping and hadn't even complained about doing all the driving. Her neck and shoulders ached from day after day at the wheel of the minivan. But would Linda Kate give her even a tiny backrub? No. She said she thought it was gross to touch other women, even her own sister.

"Stay here if you want," said Linda. "It doesn't matter."

"Aren't you worried about Stannie?" Mary Beth's voice trembled a little. "What if he's hurt somewhere?"

"Or dead."

"Oh God! I hope not!"

Linda Kate turned down the corners of her mouth. "Surely you've considered the possibility."

"I wouldn't let myself."

"Don't start crying, Mary Beth. He's probably not dead."

"But what if he is?"

"No. He'll show up. I feel it."

"You think?"

"Yes. But you should stay here if you want. Maybe it's better."

"But maybe I'll go. I want to see Benjamin Bratt. And Brett Bordley-Young. Even if she was bad to Stannie."

"I want to see her gown," said Linda in a bored voice. "I read in People it's a Roberto Napoli."

Mary Beth let out a little gasp. "Oh, I know it's beautiful." She paused. "Maybe she's sorry now."

"Who?"

"Brett. For being bad to him."

Linda Kate sat quietly for a moment, and then gave a long, long sigh.

"You don't like Stannie anymore," said Mary Beth.

"Why should I? Has he ever said anything nice to me, my whole life?"

"He lets us hang around him."

"You're pathetic."

"What if he doesn't come back? Won't you be sorry?"

"He's just laughing at us somewhere."

"I don't understand what makes you angry all the time, Linda. Why do you stay so mad at everybody?"

Linda Kate looked up at her sister, amazed. "Aren't you mad?"

"No." She smiled blankly. "What's to be mad about?"

Linda Kate looked furious. "Everything! Everybody! I hate everybody!"

"Do you hate me?"

"Sometimes."

"I don't hate you," said Mary Beth. "I don't hate anybody." And she really didn't. All that anger, over what? What good did it do? She'd gone out yesterday afternoon to have her hair and nails done and her brows tinted and a facial; now she put on the gorgeous Iulio Andrei black wrap and illusion gown she'd bought for just two thousand dollars (what a steal). She sat down on the side of her bed and decided what she'd bring with her to the Shrine: an energy bar and a bottle of spring water to sustain her until the evening; her mother's diamond tiara in case she worked up the courage to wear it; the video camera from Ed (at least she could make a few memories, even if Stannie didn't show up to take it from her), her beautiful new string purse (just five hundred dollars, and it matched the gown), an autograph book, and a small digital camera of her own. She'd heard there was no guarantee that they'd get a seat: it was first come, first serve in the red carpet bleacher area, and yet so often their famous name helped. In fact, she had no doubt she'd get a seat.

"We're the Colfax sisters," she'd say, and somebody would push them to the front of the line and whisk them in. There'd be a flutter of attention, an effort to find them a comfortable spot. Some reporter from People or Entertainment Weekly would want a photo of the millionaire debutante sisters of columnist Stannie Colfax (not to mention nieces of a famous senator) making a surprise appearance in Los Angeles—sitting, of all the amazing things, just like normal girls, in the bleachers.

She couldn't help but be excited. She loved celebrities, she loved grand occasions and nice clothes. Still, though, she hoped above everything else that Stannie would show up. If he did, she would dare to throw her arms around him and give him a kiss on the cheek. He would make fun of her, but she would do it anyway.

It was ten o'clock now and really time to go—seating stopped at 12:30. Linda Kate had locked herself in the bathroom and was taking forever. Mary Beth listened to hear what she might be doing in there: taking a shower? Using the toilet?

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