He’s sitting in the car, cigarette in his hand hanging out the window.
“Timothy, need a word.”
His head jerks up, nobody was there, then I’m there, “Shit, scared the fuck out of me. If I had a gun, you could be dead.”
“If you had a gun you would be disarmed by now.”
“Who the fuck are you? Whaddya want?”
“You’re here to take pictures. But not pictures of anything happening around here. You’re here to follow one of our actors to wherever they’re staying and make a nuisance of yourself. Fishing for boyfriends, nudes, whatever titillates the celeb rag crowd.”
“So what? I gotta right to…”
I snatch his wrist, the palm heel of my hand comes down on his elbow, which is draped over the door. He drops the cigarette and makes a loud…something…painful anyway.
My owl claws wrap around his neck, my thumb deep in the crevice just above the sternum, the suprasternal notch. It’s really painful, press on it and find out.
“Gaack, gag,” Fedders is having difficulty with coherence, I let him go, he chokes out a few coughs.
“I could have…” gasp, cough, “you arrested,” cough.. “for assault.”
“Go for it. My version is you mentioned a gun and I feared for my life. Cops get away with that crap all the time. Who are they going to believe, a hot woman or a strung out loser still stupid enough to smoke. Maybe I’ll tell them I feared for my life because you threatened me with second hand smoke. It’s California, land of the PC.”
“You fuckin’ crazy.”
“Duh. And you are fuckin’ with the wrong crazy.”
Sarah comes alongside, “Are you threatening my friend?”
Her Glock is suddenly next to his eyeball, “Cause if you’re threatening my friend, I have a problem with that,” she cocks the hammer.
“Jesus fuck! I din’t do shit, sat out here hoping for a few pictures, now I’m facing two crazy broads, one with a gun?”
“Timothy, here’s what happens. You crank the Taurus and floor it. If I ever see your grubby ass again, I’m on you. Think about snapping photos with no fingers. Maybe you can get hooked up with the guys who figure out how to get quadriplegics to type with electrodes stuck on their heads.”
Sarah taps his temple with the Glock, “Why can’t I just shoot him and we don’t have to think about it anymore?”
“Good point, take him out.”
Fedders, “Fuck’s sake, hold up! Look, I am outta here. I can go stand around Mr. Chow’s in the Hills and wait on Paris or somebody to show up. Lemme split, gone and won’t be back.”
“First Timmy, who did you come here to follow?”
“Ah man, you know, catch a star, like that.”
I lean on his busted elbow, wow, what a screech, “Do better than that.”
“Twins, okay, twins. I was informed of a new set of twins, plus the other two babes in this movie. Have any idea what I could get for two sets of hot twins hanging out? It’s goddamn gold.”
“Last bit, who called?”
“Who…? Many, I can’t give up my sources, I’m like a fuckin’ journalist.”
“Uh huh, and I’m like a psychopath, Timmy. Who do you think is going to give up first?”
“Ahhh, fuck it, Angela, Angels Moses, flippin’ intern giving blow jobs to brass for her big break that ain’t comin’.”
“Get gone Timothy, my friend likes shooting assholes, and I feel her finger getting twitchy.”
I didn’t know a Taurus could lay rubber, but danged if he didn’t leave a short strip.
Sarah’s laughing, “I emptied the chamber and popped the magazine, the only way this thing would kill him is if I used the butt as a hammer.”
“Good call, you guys see any other curious onlookers, Eloise spot anything?”
“Nothing, why I came over here, couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
I check in with J as we walk to the lot, Tell Samuel to take Dmi and her mom home. The rest of us will go in our two SUVs and take different routes to the hotel.
Harry comes over, “Understand we had a pest.”
“Pest control handled it.”
Ellen, “How do these guys even know who’s here? Or when they’re going to be here?”
Harry, “Sometimes we’re our own worst enemy, announce the start of filming to try for early buzz. My policy is not to announce jack. But it’s a big lot, some intern can’t resist a hundred waved in her face and tells him who’s on the lot and who might be tomorrow or the next day. The photo guys aren’t getting in here, but they don’t want in here, they want to follow the actor to wherever she’s going. “
Amanda, “Best is a hookup with a new boy or girlfriend, second best is clubbing, but knowing the hotel, see if he can scope the room from some spot across the way.”
“Harry, an intern here, Angela Moses, is leaking names, and if you believe the guy we ran off, doing a fair amount of time on the casting couch.”
Amanda, “I know her, nodding acquaintance, yeah, that would be Angela. Sixteen, sexy and thinks she’s going to sleep her way to whatever.”
Ellen, “Where’s her damn parents?”
“Her mother is a personal assistant to one of the guys Angela entertains.”
Ellen, “Daphne said we’d learn a lot about Hollywood.”
“Fine young stuff offers itself up on a plate, very few men are going to suggest she talk to a counselor. This is a testosterone driven business and nothing spikes hormones like a willing young sylph. Some do get a shot, women have been fucking their way onscreen since there’ve been screens.”
Janah, “What could further boost a man’s ego than a young girl as a sex fling who he makes into a star? How long do you think it will be before the next girl comes sniffing around for her shot? Are there innocent girls who get pressured into it? Sure. There are also girls like Angela, spreading the joy with the encouragement of a mother who wants the big house, pool and servants.”
“Amaya, take one set of twins and Eloise, I’ll drive the other and Janah. We’ll wait ten and follow you on the GPS, I’ll take a different route.”
“Okay ladies, saddle up, the Ks can go with me, the Ds with Daphne, see everyone in a bit.”
After the first day incident, things get remarkably quiet. Even on location photographers were missing, word must have gotten around. Funny thing, we don’t care about pictures when the photos are straightforward, it’s the sneaky stuff that’s annoying. For instance, we’re a gaggle of lesbians and Dmi is just a little girl. You can imagine how that would be twisted.
Amaya, “I am preparing studio shots of the cast, both during filming and straight head shots. We can blanket the media and accomplish the same thing we do with Chloe, so many available pics, it isn’t worth paying a paparazzi.”
“Still have to think about the sneaky stuff, a little anyway. We don’t do lesbian in public, nobody is going to sit on the Shutters balcony nude and we don’t club.”
“And our policy is to be complimentary of everyone we work with, we don’t tweet, and if we did, it wouldn’t be anything snippy about another actor.”
“We only know Matt and some character actors, don’t know who we’d snipe, but it’s still a good policy.”
“Chloe doesn’t even tweet, too time consuming. Fan page is enough work. I am putting the stills from the filming on her site as we go along. The chatter is blooming. Dmi is thrilled, she’s a hot topic on a hugely followed fan page.”
“If the flick takes off, particularly if she becomes the next child thing, maybe her own fan page, wonder what mom thinks?”
“We will wait until release and see. Dmi will have stellar reviews, midget charmer may suck up all the attention. The twins are indifferent, they have no interest in attention.”
“Considering Katya and Katja’s sideline, attention is problematical.”
“They do not do their extracurricular work as themselves, all of us disguise for that. We lead double and triple lives.”
“You lead a dozen lives, I shouldn’t be surprised to discover you have to remind yourself you are when you wake up.”
Amaya smiles, “Chloe said something similar the other day, when she woke up I was Orson Wells as Harry Lime doing the cuckoo clock line from The Third Man.”
“He had a point, adversity frequently generates creativity.”
“Of course it does. Who troubles themselves with hard thinking when ripe fruit is low on the vine waiting to be picked?”
Perhaps America’s current turmoil, citizens cringing and hand wringing about terrorists while arming themselves to the teeth, will ultimately result in more rational approaches to the problem of religion, belief and nations. Or maybe it will just devolve into WW III. Neither the religious nor the flag wavers ever tire of slaughtering one another.
Matt Davos and his partner and manager Claudia arrived on time and ready, Matt is a total professional. He ‘Godfathered” his scenes with the double twins, and has a splendid on screen rapport with Chloe. Makeup had to age her, since she doesn’t and Matt does, to his eternal consternation.
He is granddad with a favored grandchild. Dmi’s finished her scenes, but is hanging around to soak up acting techniques from seasoned pros. And she is clearly relishing being the set darling.
Matt, “You know the young lady is going to chew up roles. I recall seeing Reese in Freeway, you knew she was going to make it big. Then Natalie did The Professional and it was obvious there was another star in the incubator.”
“Chloe Moretz did some TV and a couple of movies, then hit her stride with Hit Girl and Let Me In.”
“God, she’s so smooth, like Emma Watson, none of them have bullshit catfights for attention, no rap or baseball star boyfriends. One pro performance after another.”
“Everybody loves Emma, teenage boys have been wet dreaming about Hermione since Harry rode a broomstick. I wonder if it occurs to people, the phallic image of wizards and witches riding broomsticks.”
Matt laughs, “You are a bizarre person.”
“Google some of the images of Quidditch, tell me I’m wrong.”
Matt diddles with his android, “That’s too funny, I wasn’t into Potter, watched the movies for the obvious, check out the actors. I never thought of the phallic thing. Wonder if Rowling did?”
“Maybe, Janah looked up witches+broomsticks+phallic, there are more than a few references.”
“I got to get out more, broomsticks as penis symbols never crossed my mind, Claudia, you ever heard of it?”
“No, but if you think about a straight rod between an actor’s legs, it doesn’t take a leap of imagination. I never got into the witch thing, why I never read the Potter books. We watched a couple of the movies, Harry Potter was the late twentieth century version of Star Wars.”
“What do you mean?”
Claudia, “Like Wiki says, the main story arc concerns Harry's struggle to kill the Dark wizard Lord Voldemort, who aims to become immortal, overthrow the Ministry of Magic, subjugate non-magic people and destroy anyone who stands in his way. Star Wars is a futuristic version of essentially the same story, bad guys use magical skills to subjugate people and destroy their enemies, good guys use magical skills to keep them from doing it. The only differences are the machines involved. Other than that, it’s the same story. But then, tons of books and movies are the same story told in slightly different ways. Since Shakespeare, every plotline has been plagiarized.”
“I take your point, still, Amaya’s work feels original.”
“Yes, but it’s original in characterization, original in dialogue, the plotline is the familiar bad guy-good guy, grey bad-good guy, action and more action. Her scripts are tight, no fluff, no long drives and scenery as a cheap way to fill screen time. Overdone chase scenes are near non-existent, very few cars screeching around corners. Nobody ever says MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!!”
I laugh, “Amaya has a conniption whenever the guy, it’s always a guy, starts yelling move it. It’s always in a scene where doing anything but moving it would be to invite death. She calls it lazy, a failure of imagination.”
Matt, “Ever read any of the Reacher novels? You know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes, Lee Child, I read a couple, Amaya more than I, we have a similar take.”
“The explanations of weapons and fighting techniques are good. There’s limited action, but when it happens it’s generally pretty well done. The parts in between, which are long and tedious, are skip-able.”
Matt, “I know what you mean, where Reacher and his current temp babe or temp war buddies are having a maybe this, or what if that roundtable. All hypotheticals, many of which don’t make much sense.”
“Exactly. And it appears formulaic, it happens in every book, many times. Like Child is sitting at his word processor having a mental conversation about possibilities and dumping that on the page. Occasionally, some of Reacher’s conclusions are a stretch, a big stretch, like he knows the unknowable. I do like it that he occasionally misses his guess and acknowledges it. The whole premise, a tough former MP who lives off the grid with a toothbrush and his thumb out, is interesting, and Child doesn’t make such a big deal out of it, that the improbability of anyone actually living that way becomes ridiculous. Homeless people do, but they don’t roam around the country seeing the sights, saving the oppressed or extracting justice.”
Matt, “I was disappointed that he let Cruise play Reacher. A five seven Scientologist pretending to be a six four former MP.”
“Sold out for box office one presumes. Maybe, despite Child’s book selling success, he was insecure about how it played out on screen. Instead of giving the part to a relative unknown, he got talked into the safe bet.”
What a zoo. Two sets of idents to make up, hairstyle and clothe, Dasha and Daria are taller, five eight, Katja and Katya are five six-ish, neither pair dresses identically. Although one scene calls for Katja and Katya to confuse a target, so they dress alike. Their target thinks there is only one girl. He thinks he’s scored at the bar with Katya, she agrees to join him in his room in twenty minutes. Imagine his surprise a minute later when he finds the same girl in his room pointing a Glock at him. He’s only surprised for an eyeblink, then he’s dead.
Since the target is dead anyway, why do the identical bit? Would it matter if his assassin looked nothing like his pickup? No, but it’s more fun for the audience.
We’re nearing the end of filming, three more days. It’s been fun, Dmi let go of her character and became a charming young girl. She couldn’t come to the locations all day every day, dance and gymnastics classes to attend, but she made about half. During breaks five Russian girls in a circle, four listening to Dmi’s stories and observations on movie making.
Sloane calls, “Mom, Oceane is staring off in wherever-ville, talking about a red truck, an explosion and a warehouse where a movie is being made, does that mean anything to you?”
“Too much, she just start?”
“Like five minutes ago, she said a mummy blows up a truck, well she said a man wrapped in a cloth, I made it into mummy.”
“Okay, let me get off the phone give the others a heads up, take care of her and Cassie, I’ll check in later but call immediately if she coughs up more information.”
I click off, it’s the final day, we’re on a blocked off section of industrial space near San Bernardino. About a three block area of warehouse and equipment rental places, a body shop in one corner. A few curious workers ring the area, glad for something besides the daily grind.
I’m on our wireless communications network, “Listen up, I can’t do details of why, but there may be an attempt on the set, we’re looking for a truck, probably red, and a driver wrapped up in a headscarf. I don’t need to tell you what that means. Janah, you and Eloise back off the SUV to a far corner, Eloise, keep the drone up and look for suspicious behavior, particularly a truck. Amaya, this may be nothing, but I have my doubts. Enough to think you make sure, if there is any trouble, the cast and crew are all the way to the back of the warehouse, behind all the stacks of inventory. Everyone got it?”
The expected replies, all we can do is move forward, I can’t stop production because my prescient weirdo has a vision, I can’t ignore it either.
Movie bad guys are holed up in one warehouse, holding Dasha as a hostage. They don’t know about telepathy. Dasha is able to communicate the layout and where the men are straight to Daria’s brain, who passes along the details to Katya and Katja. They split up, Katja is going to drive a forklift right through the roll down door, Katja and Daria will follow her in and start picking off the enemy.
Just as the door is crushed open and the girls go inside, a red pickup comes hard through the barrier to the south. It’s only a common wooden barricade, until it’s smashed into flying bits of busted wood. That’s not in the script.
I’m on our wireless, “Problem, stop the truck, it’s headed to the warehouse and the guy driving looks jihadist. Eloise, the drone.”
I can see with my eagle eyes, his head wrapped in a keffiyeh, the more military style shemagh, which wraps over the nose and lower face. He’s wearing dark sunglasses.
Ellen steps in front of the truck, pistol in firing position, the truck picks up speed, he’s maybe thirty feet from her. Sounds like a string of firecrackers, they empty the magazines, Sarah left, Mani right, Ellen dead on. Windshield shatters, the truck is under ten feet from Ellen, she leaps to her left, bumper clips the toe of her boot.
The target’s shemgah isn’t camo anymore, more like scarlet, and shredded, blood spatters the rear window of the pickup.
“Clear out, he’s got to have a bomb in there.”
The three women scatter in the opposite direction, I see the forklift come out of the warehouse, halfway out the door it stops. Katja hops off and goes back inside. If a bomb goes off, the lift will take some of the hit.
The truck is within fifty feet of the warehouse door, slowing, can’t see if the target is dead or badly hurt. Considering his face, if he’s alive he’s not for much longer. The drone drops down directly in front, I hear the pop of a dart, then a second and third, three red tails poke out of the driver’s face. The truck explodes, the drone with it. The smash of multiple bits of shrapnel bashing against the warehouse walls, but higher up, the engine block and the truck interior took most of the pieces.
We race to the warehouse, it isn’t a smoky explosion, a big flash and a lot of noise. The actors and crew are lined up on the floor in back, there are rows of shelving stacked with boxes between them and the door. Some of the first row boxes have taken shrapnel, appears to be like the Boston Marathon bomb designed to shred body parts.
Everyone is shaken, but not physically injured. Pushing the crowd to the rear of the warehouse saved serious injuries or worse.
The place swarms with SWAT, cops, EMTs and soon enough the FBI.
Janah’s been on the phone.
“Sylk, Daphne Sylk.”
“I’m Special Agent Rosario, what happened?”
I wonder, if they’re all special agents, how is anyone special? But I’ll ponder that another day. I give him the play by play, his phone rings.
“Excuse me,” he listens, a couple of ‘buts’ then a ‘yes ma’am.’
Agent Rosario clicks his phone off, “Um, would it be okay for me to interview the shooters? Just to cover my butt, ma’am.”
“We are licensed security for Murakami Sylk Enterprises, which includes Murakami Sylk Films, the producer of this movie. I’ll have my people give you their information and arms permits of course. They will be happy to tell you what happened and their role in it. We aren’t pulling rank Agent Rosario, just expediting things. If you wait here, I’ll send the others along, you want them together or one by one?”
“One at a time please.”
He’s being sensible, if they had conflicting stories, he would want to know and they aren’t going to tell conflicting stories in a group.
My mike is still on, they’ve heard the conversation, “Ellen, come over please and tell Agent Rosario what you saw and did. Then Mani, then Sarah.”
Ellen, “On the way, people inside are good, shaken, but good. Thank whoever that Dmi didn’t come today. And thanks for steel toe sneakers, truck would have busted my toes without them.”
While my three shooters are being interviewed, Janah and I talk with crew members and cast. They’re actually rather sanguine, but we don’t presume they’re all just dandy. Right now, they’re happy to be alive and uninjured. Once the reality kicks in, there may be psychological repercussions.
Janah talks to the group, “You may feel okay now, but when family and friends hear about it, the natural inclination is to ask for details, then recoil in horror at imagined worse outcomes. That can trigger a spiraling sequence of ‘what might have been’ in your mind. It may not be possible for you to control those thoughts and a series of conversations revisiting the event reinforces those what ifs.
Anyone who wants personal counseling should get it. My dad is a psychiatrist and has experience with trauma. He’s going to give me names in Los Angeles of people he knows to be competent and caring. I’ll give the names to Amanda, she will pass them along to you. Costs will be covered by Murakami Sylk, if you feel the need, go, now or six weeks from now, doesn’t matter. And just so you know, who goes and who doesn’t is not something we are privy to. We pay the therapist’s bill, but your name isn’t on it.”
Harry, “As a practical matter, this scene is only partially useable. The warehouse is likely to be off limits for a while. Amanda, Amaya and I are going to be busy tonight restructuring the final days of filming. Some of you, the twins for instance, are in the final scenes. A few of you are in them as well. Are you up to filming tomorrow? I’m not being insensitive, but if we wait for a week or two, crew and actors have other commitments, then we have a scheduling mess.”
Dasha, “Tweens will feenish moovey. Nobody died, Katja protects everyone wiz lifting machine, Ellen faced down speeding truck. Sarah and Mani also shot bomb asshole wiz prospect of getting blown up right in front of them. To feenish moovey is to tell terrorist peerson fuck you.”
Jackson Jones, one of the bad guys in the film says, “Damn straight. We should finish this thing because that dickhead tried to end it. People stood up, risked their lives for us. Whaddya say?”
Hard to argue, to slink home and hide is to admit defeat, the crew and cast rallies. It may be a bit of faux courage, but courage starts someplace.
I add, “And we won’t have any problem bulking up security for the last couple of days, the locations will look like a SWAT exercise. Barricades will be concrete, not wooden, and every access point will have armed personnel behind fat SUVs that will have to be moved before anyone goes in or out.”
Jackson, “Hell, be safer working on the set than walking around LA.”
Matt and Claudia had to take off two weeks ago after Matt’s sequences, some project overseas. We have dinner with Dmi and her mom on our last evening. She’s a little sad, her Russian pals are leaving. Katja and Dasha give her phone numbers, she can call or text. Amaya assures her that she or Chloe will call when they’re in LA and Dmi and her parents should plan to come to New York for the film’s premiere.
That brings a huge smile, she hadn’t thought of attending a premiere. Amaya asks if she’s comfortable going on talk shows, that brings another smile, appears we have a natural. While the girl is occupied with the twins, mom casually asks Amaya if she would consider representing Dmi.
Amaya, “I do not do talent marketing, I represent Chloe but never put her up for roles, roles come to her. I suggest we let the movie come out and see what happens. If offers come along, we can revisit formal representation.”
“You don’t think she needs an agent?”
“You can try it, keep in mind that agents tend not to turn down work, they do not get paid if the actor is not performing. You may get opportunities, the quality might be dubious. She is just getting lift off, and she is a child, not going to know what projects just sound fun, but are duds. The agent is not going to read the script, not going to decide if it is right for Dmi. With me, it will likely mean more offers are rejected than accepted. I am persnickety about Chloe’s work.”
“What do you charge?”
“I do not.”
Mom is nonplussed, “Free?”
Amaya, “Sure, Dmi is a delight, and if she trickles out her screen time, it leaves audiences looking for more. If she does talk shows and interviews I will coach her on how to handle it, we’ll think of some cute lines, I do it with Chloe all the time.”
“I’ve seen Chloe on TV, she seems so spontaneous.”
“If shows were completely spontaneous, they would descend into a nightmarish mess of cross talk, people would change the channel. Not every line is scripted of course, but much of the structure of the appearances are laid out with a producer in advance.”
“I didn’t know, so many things to think about. On the matter of wardrobe, Chloe always looks so elegant. Might she offer some tips for Dmi?”
Amaya laughs, “Chloe’s idea of fashion is ragged jeans and a t-shirt. I am responsible for seeing she never appears anywhere, including at home, in such a state. I also dress Daria and Dasha, Daria has good fashion sense, Dasha likes to look nice but does not care to think about it.”
“So you are the source of their elegance.”
“You may say so.”
In the end, mom wants to talk it over with her husband and Dmi, they leave it there.
Amaya hugs Dmi, “When it is time for talk shows, we will work on what you do and say. Each host has different interests and I know what they are. You will not so much memorize a script as have a few cues in mind. And I will play the host so you learn to pay close attention to what you are asked and how to respond. They will play a bit of the movie, which is the entire point of going on the show, get the buzz going.”
Dmi’s all smiles, “Just more acting then.”
“Exactly, partly scripted, partly improvisation. Some shows might include the twins, some Chloe, Katja and Katya have no interest in being interviewed, it will be with Dasha and Daria. I want you to do at least one alone so the focus is on you. Ellen DeGeneres loves to bring on talented girls. ”
“But won’t they wonder about the twins I am playing?”
“Yes, part of the mystique, a movie mystery, who are these other twins?”
Dmi, “Cool, that’s sneaky.”
“You can only be curious about what you don’t know. We want people to line up just to see who the second set of twins are.”
We see them off, we ate at One Pico, which is part of Shutters and thankfully don’t have to navigate LA to get home.
We gather at the bar for cocktails, they only had wine with dinner, saved the harder stuff for the postscript.
Amaya, “Christ, I am exhausted. After I knock back a couple of cocktails, you can find me dead in our room. Ellen, Sarah, Mani, you were splendid. Was there a lot of blowback about the dead guy? They did not ask you to stick around for more questions.”
“Janah was on the phone before the failed jihadist went to collect his virgins. Do they get the virgins if they only blow themselves up? I’m not clear on the specifics. With the movie wrap, I failed to mention that the parents called along with Sloane, Nikko, and Zi. I gave them essentially what they already knew, it was national news.”
“No mention of a drone?”
Eloise, “My drone was the only victim besides the bad guy. It was evaporated to the point that searching through exploded parts won’t turn up anything like a drone. Besides Daphne and Janah, I don’t think anyone else even saw it. I have the video, it feeds back to the tablet automatically and is recorded, I think the jihadist was already dead. I only had tranq darts, they would have paralyzed, not killed him.”
Amaya, “If he was dead, why did the bomb go off? Doesn’t he have to press a button?”
Janah, “It could have been on a delayed timer, he clicks, but the thing doesn’t explode for five or ten seconds. Or he could have had a reverse switch, pressing it activates the bomb, but you have to release it for it to explode. A version of a hand grenade, pulling the pin doesn’t make it go off, releasing the strike lever does, on a five second delay while the fuse burns down to the explosive. If you think you might get killed before you can press a button, the hold and release method is the way to go.”
“I see, something to use in my next book.”
“Have any ideas, or just collecting death and destruction methods?”
”Depends in part on the reception to Twice as Dead 2. Katya and Katja are indifferent to being in a movie, but they have taken to our ingénue Dmi. If she gets the accolades I anticipate, and I am never wrong on these things, then I may provide a vehicle for her. It is guesswork for now, for instance, she may get good offers to play other parts. At the moment, nothing comes to mind interesting enough to pursue Twice as Dead 3. But that is likely due to my brain being flamed.”
Dasha, “Eemaya ees always to come up with ideas, she cannot anyway help herself.”
“Thank you angel, now for a final vodka and temporary death of consciousness.”
Everyone is tired, early calls, some late evening shoots, the strain of nearly being blown off the planet, these things have a way of tiring one. I can’t verify it, but I suspect that, like Janah and I, sex is off the menu for this evening.