Janice asked as she arranged a huge bouquet of white lilies in a vase, picking off leaves here and there and inhaling the overpowering aroma that was floating about my upstairs living room. Flowers arrived all the time from fans, or actor friends just wanting to say hi, or agents trying to poach me, or producers trying to woo me with a project. Janice was clucking about organizing my day—she was my assistant—my right arm as well as one of my most trusted friends, although she was older than me by eight years—used to be my babysitter, when Mom was too out of it to deal with me. Janice was womanly; always had been, even when she was just thirteen. Tall and confident, high cheekbones and feline-shaped eyes that glinted flinty-dark and made people respect her. I felt handicapped without Janice. She did everything for me. I’d once even had a car accident and both my wrists ended up in plaster. I won’t get into the nitty-gritty details but you can imagine how much she helped me out.
What do You think about Shooting Star (Beautiful Chaos)?
