The wedding, a gala event, was held in the ballroom of the Morocco Hotel. It seemed that half of Las Vegas was there. There were entertainers and owners from all the other hotels and showgirls and, in the center of it all, Al Caruso and a couple dozen of his friends, quiet, conservatively dressed men, most of whom did not drink. There were lavish arrangements of flowers everywhere, strolling musicians, a gargantuan buffet and two fountains that flowed champagne. Al Caruso had taken care of everything.

Everyone sympathized with the groom, whose arm was in a cast as a result of an accidental fall down some stairs. But they all commented on what a marvelous-looking couple the bride and groom made and what a wonderful wedding it was.

Toby had been in such a daze from the opiates that the doctor had given him that he had walked through the ceremony almost oblivious of what was going on. Then, as the drugs began to wear off and the pain began to take hold again, the anger and hate flooded back into him. He wanted to scream out to everyone in the room the unspeakable humiliation that had been forced upon him.

Toby turned to look at his bride across the room. He remembered Millie now. She was a pretty girl in her twenties, with honey-blond hair and a good figure. Toby recalled that she had laughed louder than the others at his stories and had followed him around. Something else came back to him, too. She was one of the few who had refused to go to bed with him, which had only served to whet Toby's appetite. It was all coming back to him now.

"I'm crazy about you," he had said. "Don't you like me?"

"Of course I do," she had replied. "But I have a boyfriend."

Why hadn't he listened to her! Instead, he had coaxed her up to his room for a drink and then had started telling her funny stories. Millie was laughing so hard that she hardly noticed what Toby was doing until he had her undressed and in bed.

"Please, Toby," she had begged. "Don't. My boyfriend will be angry."

"Forget about him. I'll take care of the jerk later," Toby had said. "I'm going to take care of you, now."

They had had a wild night of lovemaking. In the morning, when Toby had awakened, Millie was lying beside him, crying. In a benevolent mood, Toby had taken her in his arms and said, "Hey, baby, what's the matter? Didn't you enjoy it?"

"You know I did. But - "

"Come on, stop that," Toby had said. "I love you."

She had propped herself up on her elbows, looked into his eyes and said, "Do you really, Toby? I mean really?"

"Damned right I do." All she needed was what he would give her right now. It proved to be a real cheerer-upper.

She had watched him return from the shower, toweling his still wet hair and humming snatches of his theme song. Happy, she had smiled and said, "I think I loved you from the first moment I saw you, Toby."

"Hey, that's wonderful. Let's order breakfast."

And that had been the end of that.... Until now. Because of a stupid broad he had fucked only one night, his whole life was turned topsy-turvy.

Now, Toby stood there, watching Millie coming toward him in her long, white wedding gown, smiling at him, and he cursed himself and he cursed his cock and he cursed the day he was born.

In the limousine, the man in the front seat chuckled and said admiringly, "I sure gotta hand it to you, boss. The poor bastard never knew what hit him."

Caruso smiled benignly. It had worked out well. Ever since his wife, who had the temper of a virago, had found out about his affair with Millie, Caruso had known that he would have to find a way to get rid of the blond showgirl.

"Remind me to see that he treats Millie good," Caruso said softly.

Toby and Millie moved into a small home in Benedict Canyon. In the beginning, Toby spent hours scheming about ways to get out of his marriage. He would make Millie so miserable that she would ask for a divorce. Or he would frame her with another guy and then demand a divorce. Or he would simply leave her and defy Caruso to do something about it. But he changed his mind after a talk with Dick Landry, the director.

They were having lunch at the Bel Air Hotel a few weeks after the wedding, and Landry asked, "How well do you really know Al Caruso?"

Toby looked at him. "Why?"

"Don't get mixed up with him, Toby. He's a killer. I'll tell you something I know for a fact. Caruso's kid brother married a nineteen-year-old girl fresh out of a convent. A year later, the kid caught his wife in bed with some guy. He told Al about it."

Toby was listening, his eyes fastened on Landry. "What happened."

"Caruso's goons took a meat cleaver and cut off the guy's prick. They soaked it in gasoline and set it on fire while the guy watched. Then they left him to bleed to death."

Toby remembered Caruso saying, Open up his pants, and the hard hands fumbling at his zipper, and Toby broke out in a cold sweat. He felt suddenly sick to his stomach. He knew now with an awful certainty that there was no escape.

Josephine found an escape when she was ten. It was a door to another world where she could hide from her mother's punishments and the constant threat of Hell-fire and Damnation. It was a world filled with magic and beauty. She would sit in the darkened movie house hour after hour and watch the glamorous people on the screen. They all lived in beautiful houses and wore lovely clothes, and they were all so happy. And Josephine thought, I will go to Hollywood one day and live like that. She hoped that her mother would understand.

Her mother believed that movies were the thoughts of the Devil, so Josephine had to sneak away to the theater, using money she earned by baby-sitting. The picture that was playing today was a love story, and Josephine leaned forward in joyous anticipation as it began. The credits came on first. They read, "Produced by Sam Winters."