“Okay, okay.” Tanya put up a hand to stop her. “Tell the musicians to take lunch now. I'll be there in half an hour. Tell Tom to wait and we'll go over the arrangements.” And how in hell was she supposed to sing, and decide about Japan, a new film, another tour, and whether or not to pay a settlement to the blackmailer who had told his story in the morning paper? As Jean left the room again, she looked up at her husband. “I guess you're right. None of this is much fun, is it?”

“Sometimes it's lots of fun,” he said, “but most of the time it isn't. There's too high a price to pay for it,” he said honestly as he stood up. He felt like hell, but secretly he was relieved, as far as he was concerned, her life was an absolute nightmare. “Go do your recording, Tan. I'm sorry I made you late. We'll talk another time. There's nothing to resolve now. I'm sorry I took so much time.” No problem. An hour. Three years. It was great fun. Hell, who can blame you for wanting to bail out now? She watched him leave the room, torn between sorrow and hatred.

“Everything all right?” Jean was back in with a stack of messages for her, and a reminder that she had to leave for the studio in the next five minutes.

“Okay, okay, I'm going, and yes, I'm fine.” Fine. Everything was always fine, even when it wasn't. And she couldn't help wondering how long it would take the press to find out, if Tony left her. It shouldn't have been a consideration, but it was. The prospect of another round of stories on her seemed exhausting.

She washed her face before she left, and tried not to cry. She put on dark glasses, and Jean drove the car. She returned some of her calls from the car, and told her agent she'd do the concert tour, including Japan. She would be on the road the following year for nearly four months, but she could fly home from time to time, and she knew how important the concert tour was.