"That's right, bitch!" I exulted in smug triumph. "On your fucking knees! It's time you did some fucking work around here for me."The tinkle of breaki...g glass was not normally a sound I associated with lawn care. I turned around very slowly, mortified that somebody might have heard me heaping transferred abuse onto a defenseless set of lawn machinery. Laura Stone was ten feet away, amid the small puddles of lemonade and shards of drinking glass that now littered the concrete floor. She was. Marsha and I had had our moments of fighting, but could I handle this level of upset if it ever happened? I suspected / hoped that much of Mel’s screaming was acting, but if she ever tried that with me, we might be in for trouble. The staged conflict was absent from her later work; there were a few scenes where there was some scripted disagreement, but most of the time she was calm and businesslike. I guess she’d matured. There had certainly never been any of that when I’d been with her, even. More

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