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least Tanya understood that she couldn't. She had her own worries now. The tabloids weren't right about the affair, but they weren't far off the mark that she and Tony were having problems. Despite the fact that he had thought it was fun for a while, he was no longer enjoying the spotlight placed on them by the press, or the lies, the threats, the stalkers, the lawsuits, the people constantly trying to take advantage of her, and either embarrass or use her, whatever it cost them. It was utterly exhausting, and impossible to have any kind of decent private life. How could you even find the real woman amidst all the nonsense? Lately, Tony had complained about it constantly, and she sympathized with him, but other than retire, which she didn't want to do, and he didn't expect it of her, there was really nothing she could do to change it. All they could do was get away from time to time, and that helped, but a trip to Hawaii, or even Africa, or the south of France, did nothing to solve the problems. It provided a brief, pleasurable escape, but no real solution. As insane as it sounded even to him, despite her phenomenal success, her vast fame, and millions of adoring fans, in fact the very life she led made her a victim. And little by little, Tony had come to hate it. For the moment, all she could do was promise him to keep as low a profile as she could. She hadn't even gone to Texas to see her mother the week before, as planned, because she was afraid that if she left town, she'd fuel the rumors. Lately, he said constantly that it was all getting to be too hard on him, and on his kids, and just the way he said it, made Tanya feel panicked. Particularly since she knew there was nothing she could do to change the situation. Their torments all came from outside sources.
    “I'm coming to New York next week, that's why I called,” Tanya explained. “I figured in your busy life I'd better make a date with you, or you'd be having dinner with the governor and hitting him up for money for one of your causes.” Over the years, Tanya had been incredibly generous with the groups Mary Stuart cared about most, and twice she had donated her time and given a performance, but not in a while. Lately, she was just too busy. She never seemed to have a moment for herself now. And her current agent and manager were tougher than the ones she'd had before, who had cut her a little slack, but the new ones were pushing her to do more concerts. There were fortunes to be made, from albums made from the concerts, licensing deals for dolls and perfume and cutting new CD's and tapes and Tanya was hotter than she ever had been. They wanted her to capitalize on it, but at the moment she was leaning more toward making another movie. “I'm doing a TV show in New York,” she told Mary Stuart, “but actually I'm talking to some agent about writing a book. I got a call from a publisher, and I don't think I'm interested, but I'll listen to them. What's left to say about me?” There had already been four unauthorized biographies about her, all of them cruel, and mostly inaccurate, but she was generally good-natured about them. After the first one, which had come as a terrible blow, she had called Mary Stuart in the middle of the night in hysterics. They had been there for each other a lot over the years, and by now they both felt certain that they always would be. It was the kind of friendship you don't reproduce in later life. It begins, it grows, you nurture it from sapling to oak tree. Later on, the roots don't form the same way. Theirs had taken hold long since, and were there, buried in solid ground, for the duration.
    “When are you coming in? I'll meet you at the airport,” Mary Stuart offered.
    “I'll pick you up on the way into town, and we can go to the hotel and talk. I'll be in on Tuesday.” Tanya was flying in on the recording company's plane, as she always did. It was just like hopping in a car for her, and the casual way she flew around