(See Cover)
At an unpretentious restaurant in Manhattan's theater district, an unpretentious woman tucked a napkin in her dress and wolfed a hamburger lunch. Not that the dress was worth protecting; it was just another tent. After finishing, she wiped the napkin across her mouth. No need to freshen her lipstick; she wore no makeup. Then she strode out in her beat-up pumps—and as if on cue, heads turned, cars slowed, and a sailor rushed up at flank speed. "You're in the movies, aren't you?" he asked. "But I can't remember your name."...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
