For a while the Lexington murder is a cause célèbre. As details leak out, they are pored over by newspapers, pontificated on by columnists, speculated about in bars and offices all over New York. Then a major soap star is photographed in a bondage club, the Lincoln Tunnel is closed for repairs and the president sends American troops into Antigua. People move on. Bessie, whose dad turns out to be something big in oil, gives Claire a little leeway on the rent. She waits tables, sometimes, in bars where they need help over the summer holiday season. Marcie gives her the number of someone who manages exotic dancers. Somehow Claire has managed not to call it yet. She's scraping by — just. But soon the acting classes will have to go. ===OO=OOO=OO=== The room is filled with sunshine. They're lying on the floor in a starfish pattern. The whole group, their heads touching, staring up at the ceiling. From somewhere near by she hears Paul's voice. 'This is a very old game. A ritual, almost. It's called The Story Tells Itself.
