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couldn’t have. Even if she didn’t say anything, they must have felt that. The long and the short of it was that she hadn’t been in love with any of them, so she couldn’t expect them to be in love with her.
    But the trouble was, no one had been in love with her. In like with her, yes. In lust with her, even. But she just wasn’t the type—Valerie LeBlanc tossed her blond mane and smiled sweetly out of the monitor at her, the type in spades—to break anyone’s heart.
    She shut her eyes and immediately imagined Valerie’s blue-eyed, button-nosed face in a nun’s habit. She sighed. Valerie had really, really, missed her calling. She would have been a great mean nun at a parochial school. The greatest, meanest, uptight-est . . . now the incongruously naked nun was saying, “In other news, speculation is growing that Jared Vairy, star of erotic classics like Mile-High Club and Amsterdam Nights , could be suffering from—say it isn’t so!—erectile dysfunction. Is this the real story behind his much-publicized retirement from on-screen sex? More after this break.”
    Zaza’s eyes flew open. Jared Vairy. Erectile dysfunction. She met the eye of the frowning sound tech, who said, “Oh, man. Jared’s going to be here in a second with smoke coming out of his ears. Oh, man.” All the people in headphones were shaking their heads, and one woman groaned, “Val, no-o-o-o . . .”
    Zaza stared at the sound tech in utter confusion. Jared with erectile dysfunction? But it was just like Valerie to make a story like that up. And Jared, here? Zaza looked down with despair at her already comprehensively rumpled clothes, which had been the wrong thing in the first place and . . .
    She didn’t notice Valerie until the other woman was standing in front of her in a rage no less frightening for the fact that she was nude and only five foot two.
    “Miss Jeresky,” she said in a voice that was pure ice, “I assume you know that you’re fired.”
    Zaza gulped and stumbled to her feet, praying that the aroma of sex wasn’t too strong or that virgin Valerie wouldn’t know what it was. “I—I’m sorry. It was just so far to go, and I was—Honestly, I ran so fast.” In her heels, she towered over Valerie by nearly a foot. It felt especially awkward and absurd to be abject downward to this pocket-sized Venus.
    Valerie, however, was not the least discomfited. “Go tell Babylona that she’ll have to find a replacement for you. I have to be back on air in five minutes, and I’ll need a replacement by tomorrow at six. Let her know. Tomorrow at six.” She raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes. “Do you think you can remember that?”
    “But I’m sorry. I mean, it’s just makeup! I mean, you really look great. I mean, you—” It was on the tip of her tongue to say that Valerie was covered in makeup, which was true. Zaza herself had had to rub the foundation into her back.
    Valerie said with condescending fury, “You can’t see my nipples on camera without that rouge. I looked like a freak. ”
    Zaza opened her mouth, but shut it again. It was no good arguing that it was only a matter of Valerie thinking that she’d rubbed some off on her robe when nobody else could see the red spot on the robe, and . . . it was no good arguing. Of course, she had been away too long. If only she was the assistant to a real porn star, who would have understood why it was vitally necessary to fuck a total stranger in the middle of an errand.
    “Please . . . give me a second chance. Please?”
    “I don’t have time for this.” Valerie put a hand to her own temple, miming the headache that Zaza was giving her. “Babylona’s office is one floor up. If you get lost, please have the presence of mind to ask someone. I’d appreciate it if you could be out of the building before the show finishes. I do not want to see you again, Miss Jeresky.”
    Zaza bit her lip, trying to think of something more abject to say. But Valerie had already