Part 228 (1/2)

unconscious, stolen the diamond off her finger, and had gone off to look

for sunnier climes and more sympathetic company.

But he'd left her the drugs. Hitch, in his way, was a humanitarian.

Jane hadn't had s.e.x in over two months. It didn't particularly bother

her. If she wanted an o.r.g.a.s.m, she only had to pop the needle under her

skin and cruise. She didn't care that no one came to see her, no one

called. Except during that brief time after the drug started to wear

off and before she craved another fix. Then she would become weepy and

full of self-pity. And anger. Most of what she felt was anger.

The movie hadn't done nearly as well as predicted. It had jumped,

with almost rude haste, from theater to video. She had been in such a

hurry to see the movie made, she had all but signed over the video

rights. Her agent had been unhappy with the deal, but Jane had fired

him and gone her own way.

The movie hadn't made her rich. A lousy hundred thousand pounds didn't

last long with someone of her taste-and appet.i.tes. Her new book was

being rewritten, again. She wouldn't see the bulk of her advance until

the stupid ghost writer had completed the job.

Her oldest source had dried up. There were no more checks from Brian.

She'd depended on them. Not only for the money, Jane thought, but

because she'd known that as long as he'd been paying, he'd been thinking

of her.

She was glad he'd never found real happiness. She was proud that she'd

had some part in seeing him denied. If she couldn't have him, she at

least had the pleasure of knowing no other woman had held him for very

long.