“My apologies,” Mick said, leaning back. “I have a mean sweet tooth.”

“Well, so do I, so I guess we’ll have to compromise.”

Mick smiled at her and pushed the plate to her side of the table, giving her the rest of dessert. June took it.

“Thank you for finally being a gentleman,” she said.

“Oh, I see,” Mick said. “You just wanted me to say that I would split the dessert but then let you eat it all.”

June nodded as she continued to eat.

“Well, I’m not that kind of guy. I want in on the desserts. I want my half. And if this thing has legs, you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

If this thing has legs. June tried her best not to blush.

“All right,” she said, handing the rest back to him, content to give it up. “Fair’s fair.”

When the waiter put the check down on the table, Mick picked it up immediately.

“Do you want to freshen up before we go?” he asked her.

“Yes,” June said, hopping up from the table. “Thank you. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

She went into the bathroom, where she reapplied her light pink lipstick, powdered her face, and checked her teeth. Was he going to kiss her? She opened up the bathroom door to find Mick waiting for her.

“Ready to roll?” he said, putting his arm out for her to grab.

As they hastily made their way back to the car, June got a sense that Mick might have skipped out on the bill. But she put the thought out of her mind just as quick as it had come in.

That night, after they left the restaurant, they parked on the side of the road by the beach. Mick took June’s hand and pulled her out into the cool evening air, the two of them running their bare feet through the chilled sand.

“I like you, June,” Mick said as he held her close, wrapping her tight in his arms. He wanted a woman he could make happy. “You’re one in a million.”

He began to sway with her, as if they could hear music.

June wasn’t quite sure what Mick thought was so exceptional about her. She hadn’t played it as cool as she’d meant to. She was sure she’d made it obvious how charmed by him she was. She was sure he could sense how naïve she felt about all of this—about love, about sex. But if he believed she was special, then maybe she could dare to believe she was, too.

“Can I sing to you?” Mick said.

June grinned and said, “I get to hear this great voice?”

Mick laughed. “I was talking a big game back there. Maybe it’s not so great.”

“Either way, I’d love to hear it.”

There, just off the Pacific Coast Highway, they were miles away from the nightclubs of Hollywood, isolated from the movie studios farther inland, far up the coast from the hustle and bustle of Santa Monica. The lands of Malibu back then were only half-tamed, all ocean and desert, navigated by half-paved roads. Everything could still feel quiet and wild.

June pushed her body up against his and pressed her cheek to his chest and Mick starting singing a quiet song on a quiet beach with his beautiful voice to a beautiful girl.

I’m gonna love you, like nobody’s loved you, come rain or come shine.

His voice was buttery and gentle. She couldn’t detect even an ounce of effort. The notes left his throat like breath out of lungs, and June marveled at how easy it all was, how easy the world felt when she was near him.

She understood then that she’d been right, back at dinner, when she said she believed he could do it. The man in her arms right now was a star. June was sure of it. And it thrilled her.

I’m with you always, I’m with you rain or shine.

When the song was over, June didn’t lift her cheek or stop swaying. She simply said, “Will you sing Cole Porter next?” She had loved Cole Porter from the time she was a baby.

“Cole Porter is my favorite,” Mick said. He pulled away from her for a moment and looked her in the eye. “A beautiful woman who will fight me over the bananas Foster and who has great taste in music, too?” he asked. “Where did you come from, June Costas?”

Mick didn’t want to go through the world alone. He had one of those hearts that stick to things. And he wanted to stick to her. She seemed like such a good one to stick to.

“I’ve been right here,” June said. “In Malibu. This whole time.”

“Well, thank God I finally came to Malibu,” he said before he started singing again.

Mick wanted a woman with an entirely tender heart, not an edge in sight. A woman who could never yell, never raise her hand. Who would radiate warmth and love. Who would believe in him and encourage his career.

He was starting to think June could be that woman. And so, in a way, you could say that this is when Mick fell in love with June, if falling in love is a choice. He chose her.

But for June it wasn’t a choice at all. For June it was a free fall.

And after Mick took her face in his hands and kissed her that night on the beach, June Costas was a goner.

9:00 A.M.

Nina’s hair was wavy and wet. Sand clung to the edges of her feet, settled in the pockets behind her knees and the roots of her hair.

She put her board back in the shed and fastened the lock. She did not want to get out of the water, but there was so much to be done.

As she started up the long, steep path to her house, her legs felt wobbly, her back and chest just as tired and sore as they were every time she came out of the ocean. Still, she made it easily up the hillside to her yard.

She headed directly for the outdoor shower. It was made of teak panels and a faucet along the side of the house. As she pulled off her dark green halter bikini, she didn’t even need to shut the shower door. There was no one and nothing to see her naked body but the ocean and the bougainvillea.

She let the water warm her iced skin, washing away the brine, rendering her once again a clean slate. Then she turned off the faucet, grabbed a fresh towel, and walked into her house.

Her huge, quiet, echoing house. Full of space and light.

The home was all open hallways, glass walls, ivory couches, and ecru carpets. It was intimidatingly casual, as if its excellence was entirely without effort. Paintings Brandon had collected—a Warhol, a Haring, a Lichtenstein—hung on the walls, adding a scribble of red or a dash of orange to an otherwise aggressively pale home.

Nina dried her hair as she walked toward the stairs to her bedroom. But as she passed the kitchen, she saw the red light blinking on her answering machine. Worried that Jay, Hud, or Kit needed her, she pushed the button and started listening.

“Hey, Nina, it’s Chris. Travertine. Looking forward to the big party tonight. Wanted to give you the heads-up before I see you: There’s nothing we can do about them releasing extra photos from your calendar shoot. They own them. And you are technically not nude, you are wearing a bikini. Anyway, look, you look hot, all right? Onward and upward. And let’s talk tonight about Playboy! All right, buh-bye, love. See you soon.”

Nina erased the message and walked up the steps to her bedroom.

She looked at herself in the sliding mirrors that covered her closets. She looked like her mother. She could see June in her eyes and eyebrows, the way her cheekbones rounded her face. She could see her mother in her body, could feel her in her heart, could sense her in everything she did, sometimes. The older she got, the more obvious it became.