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take her true self and put it away, protect it. But she didn’t have inside her this other person like Lille did, a persona that would protect her, make her fearless.
    â€œBambi,” Lille ordered, her body perfectly still, one eyebrow raised.
    Bambi dropped it and sat back, her tongue lolling happily.
    â€œGood girl,” Lille praised her.
    Carl’s giggles continued until she turned the look on him; then he managed to tamp it down to a brief chuckle every now and then.
    When he was quiet enough for her liking, she turned her attention once more to Jordan. “All right. Let’s try this again.”

CHAPTER Sixteen

    When they were done recording, Lille took a moment to cool off in front of the window air-conditioner in the office. Whipping was hard work.
    Mary stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind her.
    Lille closed her eyes. She’d known Mary wouldn’t let her get away with not telling, not when she’d heard something was wrong.
    The chair squeaked as Mary sat down. Lille stayed in front of the air-conditioner.
    â€œSo.” Mary tapped her fingers on the arms of the chair. “Tell me.”
    Lille gave a deep sigh. “It sounds so dramatic, so stupid, when I say it out loud. You know?”
    Mary made an affirmative noise. “So tell it like it’s a story. Like it happened to someone else.”
    Laughing lightly, Lille turned away from the air-conditioner and faced her oldest friend. “In a way, it did.”
    Mary’s brows rose curiously. “Now that is interesting.”
    â€œIndeed.”
    â€œSo who did this ‘it’ happen to?”
    Lille walked around the room, rolling her shoulders a little, distracting herself from her memories by looking at the poster of Casablanca .
    â€œHer name—my name—used to be Sarah Wells.”
    Mary blinked. “Sarah?” She sounded doubtful. “I don’t see you as a Sarah.”
    â€œI don’t, either.” Lille shrugged. “Not anymore.”
    Mary stopped tapping the chair. “You really changed your name?”
    Lille nodded. “I really did.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Lille smoothed her hands down her costume, fingering one of the buckles. “My father was a gangster”—she paused, then amended—“the son of a Russian gangster. Before he was sent to prison, my father would beat the crap out of my mother on occasion. That’s not why he was arrested.” She gave a sour look in Mary’s direction. “He would never have been arrested for that, not being who he was, but he did kill a man and left enough evidence that they put him away for it.”
    â€œDamn,” Mary whispered, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees. “You’re serious?”
    Lille shrugged her shoulders delicately, her mouth turned down at one corner. “I’m afraid so.”
    â€œWhat happened? Why did you change your name?”
    Lille walked over to the window, pulling back the curtain. She’d cooled off, and the cold air from the AC made goose bumps rise on her arms.
    â€œMy mom had terrible taste in men, but she was a good mother, more or less. She came up with a plan to protect me in case my father was ever released from prison. We made up a name, and she had the documents created.”
    â€œMust’ve cost her a fortune,” Mary commented.
    Lille managed to smile at her. “What would you know about forged documents?”
    Grinning back, Mary shrugged. “It always costs a fortune in the movies.”
    Lille laughed. “As it happens, you’re right. I don’t know how much she spent, but the documents she purchased helped save my life after I ran away.”
    â€œHow old were you?” Mary asked softly, her voice careful, as if she knew she was treading on delicate ground.
    â€œFourteen,” Lille said simply, but really, nothing more needed to be said. A fourteen-year-old girl out on her