Actress

Stacy eagrealy asked for the store's phone book. She looked up Stacy Jones. The name was not there but there were thirteen S. Joneses.

The clerk gallantly let her use the store's phone, as all thirteen numbers were local calls.

The first five numbers were unfamilar answering machines. The sixth was a drunken, angry man. The seventh, though, was her number. Stacy wrote out the address in a shaky hand. She didn't have her keys...but the place was an apartment so maybe the super would let her in. Or something.

Stacy thanked the clerk again and headed for the door the of the shop.

1. She got to her place. The door was unlocked, thank goodness. (A door key was taped to the fridge. Whew!)
2. She got to her place just in time to see the wrecking ball smash the last wall down.
3. As she pushed the door open her fan got up. "Hey, Miss Jones! I know it's only an hour to your 'Romeo' show, but can I get some tickets anyway? I can pay."

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