Chocolates for Breakfast by Pamela Moore

all by herself, so she had a cup of coffee and picked up a novel by Evelyn Waugh.
    When she heard her mother come in, she was pleased; and excited. The champagne was iced and the potato chips were in a bowl on the cocktail table. Everything was ready.
    When Courtney saw her mother as she opened the door, she knew something was wrong. Sondra looked older and tired as she always did when she was upset. Courtney could tell that she had been crying. Immediately she decided against the champagne. She took her mother’s coat.
    â€œMay I get you a drink, Mummy?” That was all she said.
    â€œYes, please, dear.”
    Courtney made a Scotch and water, putting in two full jiggers of Scotch and only enough water to disguise the liquor. Then she looked at the color and decided it was safe to put in another splash of Scotch. She muddled the drink with her fingers and sucked the finger, checked the color again and brought her mother the drink.
    Then she went back to the kitchen and made herself a Scotch on the rocks because her mother didn’t like to drink alone. She came back to the living room and sat down, not saying anything.
    â€œCourtney,” Sondra said finally.
    â€œWhom did he give the part to?” Courtney asked.
    â€œThe studio is about to drop him. Because of those two flops, the ones that I was in—and the TV scare, it’s the same at every studio. So they gave him this one picture, with a very powerful book, as a final test. He can’t take another chance.”
    â€œStop excusing him.”
    â€œNo, really, Courtney. He needs a star with a big following, box-office insurance. He can’t take a chance.”
    â€œDid he give it to that bitch he’s been sleeping with?”
    â€œCourtney! Don’t say things like that!”
    â€œWell, did he?”
    â€œThat doesn’t make any difference. The point is, I didn’t get it.”
    â€œThe son of a bitch.”
    â€œCourtney,” she said, “Hollywood is a tough town. Nick said that to me when I came out here the first time. He was right. It’s a struggle for survival, and everyone must look out for himself. There’s no room for sentiment. You can’t ask a man whose own career is in jeopardy to destroy himself to help an actress who is hitting the skids.”
    â€œYou’re not, Mummy!”
    â€œI can’t fool myself any longer,” she said wearily. “I didn’t tell you this before, because I thought I would get this part and everything would be all right. We’re in debt to the Garden for over a thousand dollars. We’ve got to move out.”
    Courtney didn’t say anything, because she didn’t want to upset her mother any more. Move out of the Garden! She wouldn’t see Al any more around the pool, she wouldn’t be able to swim and sun-bathe on the roof . . . there wouldn’t be any chance of her seeing Barry Cabot even at Schwab’s or on the street.
    â€œWhere are we going to go, Mummy?”
    â€œThere’s an apartment building on the outskirts of Beverly Hills that a girl of Al’s used to live in. He told me about it. It’s very cheap, and rather nice. We can get a studio apartment there. It’s near the Fox lot.”
    Near the Fox lot. On that great, cold, broad street with all the gas stations! How horrible.
    â€œWhen are we going,” Courtney said quietly.
    â€œOur week at the Garden ends this Wednesday.”
    â€œWednesday.” Wednesday! Only two more days!
    â€œWe’ll still be near Beverly Hills,” her mother said hurriedly, “near enough so that you can go to Beverly Hills High. And we won’t have to stay there long, only until I get some TV work, you know, there’s such a demand in TV, only I didn’t want to get committed before, thinking I’d be going into Nick’s picture, but now I’ll really look into it. I have some good connections with NBC, you