"It's very nice," she said.
"Bernie is yelling for his dinner.
I’ll call you at home tonight and we'll make the arrangements."
"Thanks, Rosa.
'By."
There was a strange car parked in the driveway when she got home from the studio that night.
She drove into the garage and entered the house through the back door.
If it was another reporter, she didn't want to see him.
The Mexican woman was in the kitchen.
"A Senor Pierce is in the living room, senorita.
What could he want, she wondered.
Perhaps he hadn't received the script yet and had dropped by for it.
Pierce was seated in a deep chair, a copy of the script open on his lap.
He got to his feet and nodded.
"Miss Denton."
"Mr. Pierce. Did you get the script?
I sent it out several days ago."
He smiled.
"I got it.
But I thought perhaps we might discuss it further.
I'm hoping I can talk you into changing your mind."
She shook her head.
"I don't think so."
"Before we talk about it," he said quickly, "may I offer my congratulations on your engagement?"
"Thank you.
But now I must ask you to excuse me. I do have an appointment."
"I'll only take a few minutes of your time." He bent over and picked up a small carrying case that had been lying on the floor behind the chair.
"But; really, Mr. Pierce- "
"I'll only be a few minutes." There was a peculiar sureness in his voice. It was as if he knew she would not dare to refuse him.
He pressed a button and the top of the carrying case popped open. "Do you know what this is, Miss Denton?" he asked.
She didn't answer. She was beginning to get angry.
If this was his idea of a joke, she wasn't going to like it.
"It's an eight-millimeter projector," he said in a conversational tone, as he snapped on a lens. "The kind ordinarily used for the showing of home movies."
"Very interesting. But I hardly see what it has to do with me."
"You will," he promised, looking up. His eyes were cold.
He turned, looking for an electrical outlet.
He found one against the wall behind the chair and swiftly plugged the cord from the projector into it. "I think that white wall across from you will do very well for a screen, don't you?"
He turned the projector toward it and flicked a switch.
"I took the liberty of putting on the reel of film before I came here."
The whir of film sounded and Jennie turned to watch the picture being thrown against the wall.
The scene showed two naked girls on a couch, their arms around each other, their faces hidden. A warning bell echoed in her mind. There was something curiously familiar about the scene. "I got this film from a friend of mine in New Orleans." Pierce's voice came casually from behind her as a man walked into the scene.
He, too, was nude and one of the girls turned toward him, facing directly into the camera.
Unconsciously Jennie let out a gasp.
The girl was herself.
Then she remembered. It had been that time in New Orleans.
She turned to stare at Dan Pierce, her face white.
"You were photogenic even then.
You should have made sure there was no camera."
"There wasn't any," she gasped. "Aida would never have permitted it." She stared at him silently, her mouth and throat suddenly dry.
He pressed a switch and as the film stopped, the light faded.