
What was Part 3C has now morphed into Part 4. Enjoy!
(Also note: Some of the suggestiveness may well have crossed into nsfw territory, although there's still no full frontal nudity or anything. In any case, you are forewarned.)

Valentine found his mark and assumed the position behind his leading lady for the day.
FM never explained to the room what the hell happened to his shoe, but hey, he wasn't the only one here workin' barefoot. Let's do it.

Val closed his arms around her tighter and gently tilted his head in behind her ear,
primed to whisper sweet nothings...if this were for real. But it wasn't.
And what he actually ended up saying was "Mmph. My breath tastes kinda hot."
Cat did her best not to collapse in a fit of giggles.

"Yeah, Hart, it's your profile we need to see, remember."
FM signalled with a twist of his two fingers for them to swap the position of their heads.

"That's it. Rolling."
Val cleared his throat—ahm, mm-mm, nope.
"Hold up a minute, darlin'."

"Y'all think I can get some water or some'n? Before we get too deep in this next part."

"Uh, sure, sure. Hey—" FM turned and remembered his guys weren't there, except for Rem and Rem was
a gaffer, not nobody's gofer, but the kid, yeah. "Kid, hey, run grab one of those mineral waters for Mr. Hart."
"Oh, uh, 'k. 10-4."
Val followed the kid's wandering line of sight to the craft table, but he could grab one himself
since they were right there. Maybe there was a mint or somethin' back there, too. Before he
knew it, though, the kid had dashed off downstairs. What the hell? He just wanted some water.
But Johnny noticed those bottles back there weren't mineral water and FM had specifically said mineral water.
He remembered seeing some on their kitchen counter. Better yet, he could grab one cold from the fridge
for Val Hart. It was right there, he'd be back in a flash. Johnny was a team player. And he was super fast.

So, like, here was the guy sent to pick up the shoe Frankie
Mashuga threw...but then it's not like she had a lotta options.
It didn't look like Goopy was coming back for her—that asshole—and Stella
couldn't just wait, standing around on the street corner all day like some hooker.
It was loser, fetch-the-shoe guy or nobody.

Yikes. Definitely him or nobody, Stella confirmed with herself as she watched another white tee go by,
punching into his hand and grunting some kinda mantra to himself. Yeah, you stay over there, dude.
If it had to come down to Nobody One or Nobody Two, she'll stick with the nobody she could control.
Stella took one last draw off her Slim and flicked it as far as she could make it go.

"Hey, you! Hey, wait!"

Stella stepped out into the street, daring the driver of that car
to not come to a halt for her. Like, excuse you! She was walking here.
Plus, there was totally a stop sign. She mostly ignored them herself, but she fully
expected everyone else to defer to them, especially when she was the one Ped Xing.

That idiot honked the horn at her when she was already across the street just to make her jump,
but Stella didn't have time to get into it with that guy. Not while she had this guy to convince to let her
back inside after his co-worker or supervisor or whatever had personally thrown her out on her ass.
"Think you can do me a favour? I really need your help."
"Um...if I can help—"
"You can. I just need to use the telephone. It'll only take a minute, I swear."

"Um, you're not allowed inside. But I think there's a payphone a few blocks—"
"I don't have any change," she cut him off. "I'm, like, stranded," she said.
"Completely stranded. I don't have any money on me at all."
"I can lend you a quarter."
Stella huffed and turned away from him to cover her annoyance as though she were really looking for
where the fucking payphone could be. She was getting nowhere fast with him. Wait, did he say 'lend'?

"Thanks, kid," Valentine said, handing back the half-emptied bottle.
That hit the spot, but he still felt like he could do with a mint or a hit o' binaca or some...

...thing. Or something. Ha-ha, cutie pie read his mind.
Flo jiggled a box of tictacs at Val and popped them open.
That girl was so on the ball.

"Just had to lure me over here, huh."

"Busted. I'm seducing you with tictacs." She rolled her eyes but kept on smiling.
"It's workin'," he said. "Whatever you're doin'," he added before she could fix that pert l'il mouth to call him out
on the cheap-o flattery. "Like a moth to a flame. And when I'm s'posed to be over there. Concentrating."
"Well, this'll help your concentration."
"Oh yeah? Whatcha got in there, uppers?"
"Um, no. I'm not as Starrywood as all that," she said, tapping out a few mints into his palm. "But I do
know a thing or two about doing a—shooting a love scene with a stranger. Breath confidence is
a must when you're all up in somebody's face like that," she said holding back a laugh, lookin' like
she was rememberin' one of them scenes. "Especially someone you don't know. For me, anyway."
"Like to think that goes for everybody."
"You'd hope so, but sometimes folks are oblivious," Flo said, popping a tictac into her own mouth
and clicking the box closed, "and sometimes your scene partner's just got a wicked sense of humour."
With that Flo put her hands on her hips and nodded at him to
get going, time to get back to work, she seemed to be tellin' him.
"Yes, ma'am. Wait, gimme one more, hon...Two more. Whoo yeah! Got a fresh mouth an' a
dirty mind, let's do this." Val winked at Flo and strutted off back to his mark, ready to work.

"Didn't mean to keep you waitin', darlin', just needed a refresh mint. But I'm good to go now. You good? Ya look good."

"Any chance those of us who aren't Valentine Hart can maybe also
get a tictac or two?" Remington teased and Flo smirked back.
"You can have as many as you like," she said, tossing them over for him to catch.

"Thanks. Us guys below-the-line like to keep things minty fresh, too."
He popped a small handful into his mouth and set them down.
"And me, too," Bo added.
"See, and your sister, too." He shook his head at Flo in mock disapproval before passing
the pack along to Lilly-Bo. "How you neglect your own flesh and blood like that?"
"I know! No manners."
"What do you think we can do to get on sis's radar and stay there?"
"Who knows? It may be too late for me, I'm getting used to the neglect," Bo said, happily ignoring
whatever sound that was that Fluffer was making in protest. "And as long as Valentine is there running
around shirtless he's probably got the edge. Unless you and your buds wanna even the odds."
"Ha-ha-ha! It's like that? Gotta drop trou to get some attention?"
"I dunno, maybe. Worked for them."
Remington followed her gaze to the trouser-less couple in front of the
camera and around to everybody else zooming in. "Ya got me there."

"Quiet on the set."

Okay, let's try this again. Stella did not need any lousy loaner quarter from this guy to go search for the
nearest freaking payphone that might be, like, 3 or even 4 blocks away since this area was mainly residential
and wind up standing around waiting on yet another street corner. All she needed was to get back inside.
"Please, Mister. I'm a long way from home," she lied, but it was all relative, right? On foot it was a long
freaking way, okay. "I'll be in and out, quiet as a mouse. Please, just let me use your phone. Please."
"But you're not allowed."
"Me specifically?"

"Not, not specifically, no, but—"
"Okay then. Can't you look the other way? For a minute? Only a minute. Frankie doesn't know I'm here, and
he doesn't have to know I'm here since Goopy made such a big stink, but he would want you to help me."

"I don't know."
"Please. Pretty please..."
"No one is allowed without one of these."

"With sugar on—Oh? I need to have one of those access doodads to get in?"
"Yes, that is the rule for today. I, er, *ahem*, I wish that I could help you."
"But you can."

Well, that was easy.
Like taking candy from a baby. Or coaxing an access pass off a horny dork.

Flo was determined to resist the urge to cue Valentine—well, she might cue his line again if he looked lost and,
y'know, didn't have his back turned to her—but she would not be engaging in any backseat directing no matter what.
It was just not done—she was hair and makeup! Basically. So that was a no go, but she kinda wanted to signal to Cat
because the way she was standing, with her legs crossed like that, was forcing him to have to lean from too far back
and giving him such an awkward line. Undermining his sexy to model hers, but honey, you're not the point...

Turned out Flo wasn't half-bad at channelling FM.
"Hon, hon, hon—aha, you got it, that's better. Stay with him. Coy, yes, but stay with him."

"You with me?" Val whispered.

"Hundred percent."

So they got back to work...

Stella really did it—she was on Frankie Mashuga's set, like 2 feet away from him! And holy shit, that was Valentine Hart.
Wearing practically nothing and looking sexy as shit. This was so ridiculously freaking awesome, and she was
oh, so ready for all of it! Who even needed Goopy? That fucking hillbilly had been nothing but a damn liability,
but now she was here! Pretty soon she'd be the one up there getting frisky with her own leading man!
Stealing the scene—stealing every scene...the name Stella Swank* in all the headlines, especially the tabloids
because, oh, was she going to be shameless, but what could they do about it when she was box office gold!
Oh yeah, she could see it already...

But, uh, better back up before she got too carried away. She couldn't risk another
run-in with Red before she had a chance to plead her case with Frankie.

Stella slinked off to the back of the room and was about to start poking around, making herself
at home with a plate of assorted goodies exactly as though she really were one of the cast
on standby, but she couldn't risk making any noises that might draw attention her way just yet.

So tempting, though.
Not that she was hungry or anything but she wanted to partake of, like, the experience.

Oh, well. Time enough for that later.

Valentine pushed off from leaning, leaning, leaning in the same damn
position and rotated his shoulder a few times to get the kinks out.
It wasn't her fault FM wanted so many takes with minor adjustments probably only his
eagle eye would notice...though he did wish she'd at least land the damn line each time.
"I'm s' sorry, I flubbed again. Your arms must be gettin' tired, huh?"
Naw, his shoulder was just a l'il sore after he had to step up to the plate and hit home a few lessons in respect at their
exhibition game the other day. He wasn't no southpaw, everybody knew, so it sent a good buzz through the crowd when
Val made a show of batting lefty every time he was up after a coupla no-name rookies gonna try to test him on his own turf.
He let 'em know, let 'em see, that 'past his prime' or not, he was Valentine Hart, baby.
Don't come for the crown if you ain't equipped to take it!

Val took his time stretching it out. They could wait.
"I'll get it right for sure this time. I swear."
He shook the last l'il bit of tension out through his fingertips and down through his toes and shrugged his shoulders a few good times.
Okay.
He was ready.
He chucked her lightly under the chin to get that unsure look off her face and turned to signal to FM that they were good to keep it going.
"Ready?"
"Yeah," Val said, eyes fixed on Cat, waitin' on a smile. "We're good."

"Cool, cool." Frankie propped his foot back up on the trunk and hunkered
into position as Valentine also resumed his. "And we are rolling..."

When Johnny first met Flo, he recognised her immediately from the music video for that song 'Knees Deep'
even though his mom kinda waved him away when he told her. But in a way she was right because Flo
did seem like a totally different person, in person, and it was easy to forget about her and Bo's other life.
Seeing her on the set today, she was, well, she was still Flo, but...like, okay, like with him and being an official
honorary crew member and everything it was still obvious that he was an outsider pitching in; he was 'the kid'.
With Flo, though, it kinda felt like she had one foot planted across in their world and one in the regular one.
She'd grabbed up Mr. Hart's robe and eased forward like she knew FM was about to call—

"Cut!"
Johnny had no clue how Flo knew Cat was going to get it right that time.
FM sprang up from his camera again. "Okay, we're good, we're good, we're golden. Gonna move on to the
next so, Cat, let's get changed, and don't dawdle, babe. Hart, you can take 10—15 at the max," he directed at Cat.

Didn't have to tell Val twice.


"Hey-hey, cutie pie."
"Mm? Oh." Cat realised he wasn't talkin' to her and continued struttin' on by.

Turning other heads as she went.
Bo twisted her neck away and sneered at Cat, at herself, and finally at Remington as his head dipped
down slowly, trying to sneak a peek underneath at what was already pretty much in plain freaking view.
No need to try so hard, buddy. But also no need to pretend to be discreet; she wanted everyone to see.
Bo pursed her lips and fixed her gaze on him, waiting to catch his eye...Gotcha.

Even with all the moving around, Stella still went unnoticed.
Time to see what she could do about that.

She hadn't paid much attention to the short guy, but now she realised it was actually some kid, like, high school.
He had to be a 'quid pro quo', somebody or other's son—who really fucking lucked out on this deal now
she thought about it—and as she didn't know whose son, Stella was going to keep it cool and cordial.
Anyway, he looked confused, so Stella smiled and pointed to her pass.
Johnny looked confused because he was confused.
She was the same one from before and Rem made her leave.
But now she had a pass? Does that mean she was supposed to be there?
"Uh...did Remington give that to you?"
"Who?"
Ye-a-ah. Where was Rem? It sounded like they had a 'situation' again.

"That for me?"
"It's got your name on it," Flo said. There was a lot going on so he probably didn't even notice when she
went and got it. "I took the liberty of tipping off to your dressing room before while FM was, uh, busy with
his...old friend. Just in case. Oh, and there were some flip-flops but I figured you left them there for a reason."
"Don't like nothin' between my toes."
"Okay, well, there are some socks I stuck in the pocket in case your feet get cold. Here you go."
"Nah, no cold feet for me, Sweetness," he said, leaving her holding onto his robe cuz he didn't need it.
"But good lookin' out, good lookin'. I love how you stay so on top o' everythang, taking real good care of me.
I know, I know, just doin' my job, Mr. Hart," he teased and got her laughing, "but you do do it so well."

Frankie caught a glimpse of blonde in the corner of his eye and something told him it wasn't the stiff Miz Tiff. He started to ignore it but
suspicion was colouring in some off details and Frankie spun around just as his mental vision had filled her all in—and there she fucking was!
"Don't worry, FM, I got this," Rem told him.

No, no, no. She was All Access now, Red.

"What the hell are you doing back here—where's Goopy?" Rem demanded in an undertone. "He got past Gordo? And where
did you get that?" He pointed at the badge she kept brandishing like it marked her out as something more than a sneak and
a thief—quickly patting around his chest to double-check he still had his. Yeah...yeah, he had it when he locked her out.

"Never you mind."
Now that she'd caught Frankie's attention and was within speaking distance,
she wasn't about to waste her opportunity, squabbling with the help.
"Frankie, I—"
"Answer me. Is he in this house?"

"No." She swatted at his automatic barricade-arm and then tried to push it out of her way
when he didn't obey, but it barely budged. So fine. Whatever. She could talk just as easily
from behind the invisible line. For now. "If you call off your guard, I can explain. You see, I—"

"Don't even think about it."
"I'm Stella Swank," she talked over him.
"That ain't the name you gave before."
"You probably know my aunt. Veronica Swank."
"But I don't want a scene. Just back off and tell me where GG is."
"Wouldya get a load o' this, Syl. Veronica who? Guess again, toots."
"But you do! Veronica Swank. She's been in Starrywood for, like, ever. I know you know her."
"Get 'er outta here, Rem. C'mon."
"But..."
"On it."
"No, wait. Red? No, don't."

"You got 3 seconds to tell me where Goop's hiding before I haul
your ass outta here kicking and screaming. Again. Count 'em. 3..."
"He's not here."
"2..."
"Really, he's not. I don't know where he is. He didn't send me or anything.
It's not some elaborate plan to get back at them, I swear. I swear."
"1."

"He's not here! He just...left me, okay! Is that what you wanted to hear me say?
He never came back for me. He got in his stupid truck and he left me!"

"Hey, who is this anyway, Rem?"
"Just one of Goopy's groupies."
At that FM scanned her up and down through narrowed eyes. That old pervert sure did like 'em barely ripe.
"She was with him when we held him off at the door," Rem said. "But I guess he took off without her."

"Left you high and dry, did he?"
Frankie shuffled through the visuals from his face-off with that no-talent prick in freeze-frame and, sure enough, there was
a blur of a girl coloured in like her standing there. He'd paid her no mind, but she was there. Sidelined on the sidewalk.
"So whaddya want from me?"
"He was my ride, but—"
"But what? I don't know where Goop dragged you from, but you're
in the middle of the city now. Bus. Cab. Train. Work it out."
"Can we please talk privately?"
"No."
"But I can't just leave."
"Sure you can. If you walk down that block, down that hill right there—right
there, look—at the bottom there's a sign with a map of the whole city."
"No, I know where I am, that's not the problem," she said, slipping into a whine. "But I
don't have any money. Not even for a phone call. My bag, it was in the truck."

Flo's gaze drifted over that way again, tracking the crowd that was gathering around the set crasher.
Pass or no pass, it was obvious she wasn't supposed to be up here.
"Problem?"
"Mm...Maybe. But don't worry, Mr. Hart, everybody and their mama is on it."
"Oh, I ain't worried." Not even enough to bother turning to check it out for himself. "Lotta fuss over one l'il lady," he
said, eyes steadily fixed on Flo's face and forcing her attention back his way. "But that's the way it always is."
"I don't think she's one of yours, that's the funny thing. She's not trying to force her way over."
"Stranger things have happened. But I will say she was takin' in all the sights when she snuck up in here."
"Oh really. You saw where she came from, I mean when?"
"Aw Sweetness...I don't miss a trick."

"Now why does that sound like it's got a double meaning?"

"So now it's Chesterton, eh?"
"It was always Chesterton. Stella Swank Chesterton," she said.
While Swank was no part of her given legal name, she had just as much right to it as to Chesterton.
"Yeah and what branch of the family do you come in on?"
"The one that matters. I am James's daughter."

"Tell the truth, Flo, how's it going so far? How'm I doin'?"
"It's going pretty great, I think. You've got good instincts. And you look good. Together—the two of you.
I still wouldn't say skipping the screen test is the best idea but you did luck out with Miss Sutter."
"Uh...okay, right on, gonna trust your eye on that one, cutie pie. I do want it to look good."
"One note, if you don't mind?" Flo said, offering his robe to him again, but Val just took it and slung it over his shoulder.

"Mind? Hell no. I want you to keep me on point."
"Okay, well, my main tip is don't cut as soon as FM says. You want to ease out of the scene, not fall out of it.
Or jump out of it...like you kinda just did. If you turn off as soon as he gives the word then you miss out and
we all miss out on any magic that might happen in the transition. Like before, remember, when it was just you
doing your thing and FM caught you when you weren't even thinking about it and kept it going. That was gold."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. And moments like that, like, well, they happen in the moment. So—"
"Stay in the moment."
"Exactly. Even when you're really ready to be done. Especially when you're feeling done
and just, like, over it. That's what you don't want coming through on camera."

"Ah, you saw that, huh?"
"Well, I saw, I mean it was obvious she was having some trouble cheating out to the camera for her line while
keeping it, y'know, natural—I wonder if she needs glasses? She didn't seem to have any problem connecting when
the camera was close up. Or maybe you're just that irresistible, she couldn't tear her eyes away, y'know, she was
too busy feeling the power to say it—But anyway she did nail that last take. It's going to look really good with y'all."

Tiffany had sprung up from her chair the moment she heard the name Chesterton, yet she still felt too far out of the loop.
She pulled Johnny aside to find out what he might have gleaned from earlier in the conversation.

"Why would I lie? My father is the one who told me he met you. It was at some fundraiser
or another. Two, three years ago, I don't know. But he was, like, bragging about it."
"So you're one of J.T. Chesterton's kids..."
"Ye-es," she said to the same tune as what she really meant: 'Duh.'
"...running around with Goopy GilsCarbo."
"Well..."
"How old are you anyway?"
"Old enough."
"Yeah. Right. And which one are you s'posed to be again?"
"I'm Stella."
"No, I mean you're not the one who was fronting that Save the Llamas
thing a while back. That was Chesterton's daughter, wasn't it, Syl?"
"One of," Stella intercepted. "And it was really about, like, getting people to pay attention
to where their clothes come from, or whatever. I don't know. But that wasn't me."
"Brunette, brunette...yeah, aren't all o' his brunette?"
"That was Mallory. I am Stella. And I look more like my aunt. I'm more like her in a lot of ways,
so if you didn't know Veronica Swank was one of us, she is. Real name Vera, so it's, like, not a
big leap. I personally don't see why the big secret, but she is one of us. Dance with the Devil...
The Lady Goes Poof!...Agnes, Darling. That's her—remember those, that's her, that's my aunt."

The corner of Frankie's mouth turned up as he tsked and said, "Nope, sorry, those are a little
before my time, kid. What's she done recent—past 10, 15 years? Anything I'd know?"
"I...don't know. There's, like, no love lost, if you catch my drift, but that's why,
now that I can, I'm trying everything to reach her. I think she's been producing."

Sylvia Marie butted in for the first time with an emphatic, "No, no. Zis is not so."
"How do you know?"
"Because is not so."
Stella couldn't snap back again with what she really wanted to say to his wife, she had to stay on Frankie's good
side, so she put on a smile. "Like I said, I don't know. But Starrywood's a big place and if it's anything like here,
the movers and shakers aren't always the flashy, in-your-face, tack-your-name on every project types. Not always."
"Okay, okay, shit to do," FM jumped in, "let's wrap this up. Whaddya need, whaddya want?"
"If you definitely need me gone...? then I need to call my driver. Or you can do it
if you don't trust me," she said, rattling off a phone number. "His name is Harry."
That smelled like a setup but Frankie didn't give a shit who was really on the other end of that number,
she had to go. But she had said enough that sounded almost legit to buy her a coupla extra minutes.

"Hey, Rem, take 'er down to my office, will ya. And I'll get you all straightened out, sweetheart."
Remington dropped his crossed arms and gaped in disbelief from them to this crazy chick who was getting
over on this bullshit act. But whatever, boss. He didn't say anything, just turned on his heels and led her off.

Johnny pulled away from his nosy mother just in time to miss what happened.

Stella felt like gloating but Red wouldn't look at her.

He stopped when they got to the bottom of the stairs. She tried to
act like she knew where she was going without him, but she didn't.
"Okay, what?"
"What'd you do with Lew?"
"What's lew?"
"Cut it out. The guy you conned this off of—and hand it over—" Rem gestured at the pass draped around her neck. "Where is he?"
She clamped it down against her chest like she was afraid he might rip it off and show her the door again.
"What do you think I did with him?"
Hmph. What he thought and what he could say now there was a chance she might be jailbait...Anyway.
"Look, you got what you wanted, you're here. With the big man's permission for the time being. Just gimme. And tell me where Lew is."

"How on earth should I know?...Fine, whatever. Last I saw of him he was being a good boy and waiting
outside until he got this back. So here. With my deepest gratitude," she added as she dropped it into
Rem's hand, like he was her damn errand boy—but he wasn't even about to get into that game with her.
"Outside?"
"Outside, yes. Dude's a real stickler for the rules."
Yeah, those weren't the rules. Rem's best guess was that the dude was hiding out from
the first wave of FM's wrath after falling for her shit and letting this Miss Stella Whoever in.

Remington wasn't entirely wrong about that.
Lew was good with rules, but...but...she was so pretty.
He had seen a lot of pretty girls today alone, but none of them had leaned in so close and looked up at him with big
green eyes asking for his help. And when she got so close, she smelled so good. So good and so bad—in a good way.
Like minty cigarettes and orange blossoms, which possibly didn't sound all that great put like that but, boy, was it intoxicating.
She was like, she was like Chaotic Neutral in the flesh and it was more attractive than he would have imagined.
He knew that she was manipulating him—he wanted to be...manipulated. He had fed her the pretext to make it okay.
Okay with the rules. Technically. But he didn't want to face the consequences of his actions, so what did that make him?

Um, not like him. That much was sure.
Gordon seemed to relish Chaos. For the sake of chaos! It was not as attractive on him.
"What're you lookin' at?"
She flirted and frowned and pushed and pouted and teased
to get her way, to get men out of her way. Men like him.
On the other hand, the man that was Gordo jumped at the chance to go
beat up on a stranger for no other reason than that the boss said it was okay.
"I said what're you lookin' at, runt?"
What if he were a pretty girl?
What if she had looked like him, like Gordo?
How much would that change? Would it tip the scales? Would it topple them?
"Ay! Eh, forget it..."

"I guess you probably would've left me stranded."
"Damn skippy," Remington said.
It wasn't true, but at that moment he felt like it shoulda been true. Or at least she should think that it coulda been true, instead
of believing she could barge in any damn where and get what she wanted by flinging her name around or flippin' her hair.

"Keep keepin' me on point, cutie pie. I'll be lookin' for that smile to
guide me, let me know when I'm doin' right," Val said. "Yep, that's the one."
Flo-Flo pressed her lips tight to try to keep her smile from broadening, but it wasn't helping, not when he was looking at her
like that. This guy...he could probably turn any girl into a grinning idiot. And he knew it. Of course, he knew it. But somehow
managed to not be obnoxious about it. And that was worse. She broke eye contact and swivelled around. What the...?

"Bo! What are you doing? We've got an outfit change. I thought you were—argh. Never mind."
"Fluffer—"
"No, never mind. I'm on it."

So, okay, she did say she'd see to wardrobe, but Bo didn't figure that
Cat person really needed any help with this one. Flo was just being...Flo.
And she was missing the big picture, like always.
No, Bo didn't know what it was herself, but she knew it was happening in here.


"Think she's a l'il bit ticked off with you."
"Eh, that's okay," Bo said and Valentine laughed. "No, really, as soon as she gets to the room she'll forget about it."
"Oh yeah? Not good at holding a grudge, huh?"
"HA!" Bo vocalised. "My sister? No, she is fantastic at holding a grudge, believe you me. But she picks her battles."
"Ah. Makes it easy for you to get over on the little things."
Bo's eyes twinkled at his hint at her sisterly mischief and for the first time Val noticed they were blue. Hmm.
"For me, yeah," she said. "For anybody else? I wouldn't try it."

Largely obvlivious to the man himself stomping by, Lew continued
to fixate on Gordo's brand of caveman chaos, as he saw it.
He grunted and hooted at girls and flexed his power for show, but, come to think of it, Gordon had
only embarked on his mission to break faces with permission. In response to a direct order, in fact.
Was it possible that he wasn't as authentic a case of the chaos instinct as he seemed?
Not nearly as pure as the green-eyed girl, that was Lew's conclusion.

Lew scrambled to his feet when he heard Rem call his name.
"Look, nephew or no nephew, you can't be doing shit like this. So what she showed up with Goopy, you don't
know who she is or what she wants. Maybe she's just a fan and a silly girl, with no thought 'bout how her
disruptions are costing us time and money—although I gotta say that the fact that she kept coming back
even after I physically put her out is a big freaking clue that she's not totally harmless—but what if she was
a psycho fan with a grudge? You wanna be accountable for that? Didn't think so. When in doubt, kick 'em out."
"She was lost," Lewis said feebly. "She needed to use the phone."
Rem stared at him, not willing to dignify that BS with words. They both knew he could have easily escorted
her to any number of phones downstairs and without any need for letting her get her mitts on his access pass.
"Here," Rem said, dangling it from his unclenched fist. "Put that back on. And do me a favour and make sure
it's your brain to do the thinking from here on when we're on the clock, or you're never gonna last in this biz."

That was a lesson they'd all had to learn. Some of 'em learned it the hard way but whatever, it stuck. Look but don't touch.
Gordo couldn't see what R.E.M. was holding on to this one for. He acted like he was gonna get rid o' her before but
looky-looky who was still hangin' around. None o' his business, but he wouldn't stick his neck out for a piece o' that if he
was him, with his pick of the litter waitin' upstairs for whenever he was ready to make that move on one or more or all of 'em.

"So...Miss Bo, Miss Lilly-Bo..."

Val flopped his robe back over his chair and slid down into it.
"Y'all do this type o' thang all the time, huh, you and Flo? Ain't as easy as it looks."
"You mean acting?" Did Flo-Flo actually tell Valentine that she was an actress? A legit
and for real working actress? Wow. But yes! Little Sister was finally getting back on track.
"Uh, no, no it's not. Easy, that is. But you're making it look like it is. That's the trick."
"One scene—basically one scene done a hundred different ways I guess
I can handle," Val said. "Wouldn't press my luck just yet with nothin' more."
"I dunno, I think sooner or later the acting bug takes a bite out of everyone. Aren't you having fun?"
"Uh...I'm not sure. Ask me again when it's over."

"Deal," Bo said. "But sometimes...sometimes, a lotta times, it comes down to chemistry." She couldn't resist, but she
promptly covered over the dig. "Not with your co-stars only but, like, the chemistry on the whole set. I've been on a few
sets that were un-fun environments. Un-fun in the extreme. But when the chemistry is right, it's like the best time ever."
"Heh. I'll have to take your word on that. Is this the kinda thing you woulda normally gone in for yourself or
are you only into the stuff you can really sink your teeth into, y'know, prove you got the chops, acting-wise?"
"Me? Er, no. I don't, I dunno...I mean this, well, it is more like a modelling gig but with words, but it's not like...the...kinda
thing...I do—But I'm not, like definitely not looking down on it or anything, cuz, like, as a gig, this is huge. You don't even
know, because you're already Valentine Hart, but trust me, this is a big freaking deal. I would've jumped up and down and
done backflips if anybody named Chique were about to get this kinda exposure. And I don't even know how to do backflips."

When they headed in, Lew saw that there was a conflict brewing between Chaotic Neutral: Female and...Gordon.
Alas, his alignment Lew could not pin down.
All the same, he held back a bit, maintained a healthy distance.

"That's enough, Gordo."
"Really," she chimed in with her haughtiest accent.
"And you, blondie. Follow me."

'Ay, ain't no skin off my dick.' Gordo shrugged and headed on upstairs.
But R.E.M. might wanna watch hisself with that chick if he wanted to keep his shit intact.

"What's the word? Any sign of him?"
"Nah, I did a sweep around the whole square. That punk's long gone."
"Better stay that way," FM said. "Now where the hell—what's the hold up with my goddamn shoe?"
"I don't know nuttin' 'bout that, boss."
"Lew. Seen him?
"Oh yeah, think he did have a extra shoe wit' him. Maybe he was out there givin' it a good spit polish for ya."

"Hey, wait a minute," Val cut Bo off mid-sentence, "I know where I've seen you before."
"Me?"
"Yeah you. You were in that horror flick—slasher, whatever ya wanna call it, about them college girls. Buncha different
schools or different groups competin' over...some'n, hell if I remember, but it was from a while back, I think, with
all them valley girl-types soundin' off. That was you in the mix, wasn't it? C'mon, you can tell me. I know it was."

"Ugh, that thing..." Bo clapped her hand to her face but just like one of her stupid clichéd lines from that thing warned:
you can run but you can't hide. "I can't believe it's still haunting me. How, how do you even know about that thing?"
"I watched it."
"No, nobody's seen that movie. I can't believe you know it. You of all people."
"Hey, I may not be a film buff—"
"Funny."
"—but I still enjoy a good flick."
"Or a bad one. A ridiculously, ferociously bad one."
"Yep, especially them."
And especially when he happened to be awake in the middle of the night and alone in a hotel room.**
"Besides, wasn't it called 'PantyRaiders 2' or somethin' crazy like that? Think I mighta gone into it expecting a different kinda flick."

"Not that there wasn't plenty of skin, but I like my—what'sa matter? Bo?"
"I...this is so embarrassing."
Val tried to think back, he didn't remember her from none of those scenes but was she ever nekkid that thing?
It didn't ring a bell, but that's not a line he woulda wanted to cross without realising, puttin' poor Bo on the spot. "Hey, I—"
"I'm sorry. I know I'm being kinda petty; it should feel like the awesomest thing, I mean it is, to have YOU actually recognise me from
a movie, but I wish it didn't have to be from that one. The suckiest of sucky—Omigod, please, don't mention it to anybody else!
Anyone here...y'know. Geez, why couldn't you have found something I was good in to see? Give me some bragging rights."

"But you were good. Cuz I remember you. I don't remember none of them other girls. But you, yeah.
You were so cute and scary at the same time. I remember for a while I thought maybe you were the killer."
"I wish I was," Bo told him. "That is the perfect example of a set that was un-fun."
"Hm. Comes with the territory, though, don't it?"
"Oh for sure. And everyone in this biz," she said, eyeing her distance from both Mashugas, "ends up with some really sucktastic
stuff in their credits, and it's fine, nobody holds it against you once you're a superstar, super successful director, writer,
whatever, cuz you're obviously better than that so you can laugh about it...then. But for the rest of us every gig is still make
or break or, like, what league are you in," she said, trying on her one and only sports metaphor. "Considering where we are
I don't want to be known as the PantyRaiders girl," Bo mumbled the title. "Even though I was one of the ones who kept mine on."

When Remington agreed to take on extra responsibilities on this shoot,
he never in his wildest expected babysitting would be one of them.

"A'right, look, FM is letting you wait here, but if you wanna split before he checks up on you, there's the phone."
"You think I'm really going to pass up my one-on-one with Frankie Mashuga?"
"Listen, we are busy. Nobody's got time for this. It might look like all fun and games to you, but right now this
is a workplace. It also happens to be a private residence you barged your way into, in case you didn't notice. What
are you expecting to happen—c'mon, what would happen if you snuck into some business office or other—"
"Depends on the office."
"—let alone somebody's house. Because if you are or if you aren't this Chester whoever—"
"Not whoever. Stella."
"AKA Star—"
"That's a nickname—"
"AKA—"
"But it does have a great ring to it. Ooh! Phone."
"What?"
"Phone's ringing. Soon as I said ri—See. Aren't you gonna answer it?"
"Not my job."
"But what if it's Frankie?"

She had a point there; it could be FM ringing down with new info or orders for him. Better get it.

Damn it, Goopy! Was he obsessed or what? Why the hell was calling back
here—on FM's personal line, no less—and asking for Sylvia Marie? Still! Again!
What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he pressed or what?
"No. No...What? No!"

"So....that was young Stella? Young Stella Chesterton?"
"Possibly so. Possibly not so. Posh Tiffany knows Chestertons?"
"Well, not personally, but—"
"I see."
Oh no she didn't, Tiffany was not about to be snubbed or out-snobbed by the nouveau riche nutcase.
Money was not everything. "But I do know that James is known to be excessively fond of his daughter.
And he is a bit of a wild card himself so the apple of daddy's eye does not fall far from the family tree..."

After chewing Lew out about taking so long retrieving his goddamn shoe, Frankie finally got the friggin' thing back on his foot.

Frankie jerked his head at Tiff for her to beat it, go away, as he
walked over to talk to Syl. This broad never took a hint, did she?
"Think maybe we can have a minute?"
"No, wait, Frankl. Posh-Posh-M'Gosh, she knows of Chestertons."
"Oh, she does, eh? You wanna get him on the horn for me? No? Then excuse us for a minute."

While Red was growling on the phone, Stella sneaked over to the door—and locked it.
She had a score to settle with the 'big, bad wolf'. She meant to find out exactly how big
and how bad he was now that they were both on the same side of a locked door.

"Hey—where do you think you're going?"
"Nowhere."
"Good. Because you're not about to go traipsing around the house, that's not
the deal. You're gonna stay put in here, outta the way. Anyway, listen—"
"Fine by me." Stella stifled a snort.
"Listen. It's GG. It's Goop on the phone." He raised the receiver in
her direction with his hand still firmly clamped down over the mic.
"For me?"
"Uh, no. But, I mean, he's on the line if you wanna..."
"Oh. Um, thanks, yeah. Yeah, I do want to."

Stella took the phone from him and immediately smashed down on one of the number keys, filling the air with
an obnoxious, prolonged 'beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep', which would've been even louder in GG's ear on his end.
'Beep-beep-beep-BEEP-BEEEEEP' she kept jamming down, hard as she could, on different buttons.
Then she yelled at the mouthpiece like the handset was a walkie talkie.
"You left me standing in the street with no money and no ID, you fucking jerk!
Don't even think about leaving the city until I get my shit!" she said without bothering
to lift it up near her ear and hear what he might have to say for himself in response.

And SLAM went the receiver.
Well, if Goop was still on the line to hear that, Rem couldn't say he didn't deserve it.
Bringing her here of all places and then running out on her was foul. No two ways about it.

"Feel better?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"Okay...I mean, you got a right to be pissed. But was that better
than guilting him into swinging back around to pick you up?"
"Way."
Rem shook his head because no, no it wasn't.
"And you're not worried about burning that bridge, huh?"
"Not even a little," she said. "He'll rebuild it."
Right, cuz she was the only young blonde wannabe willing to give it up to a movie star?
Even a faded one like Goop is bound to stay knee-deep in all the action he can handle.
"If you say so."

"I know so. Wanna know how I know?"

"So this Chesterton chickadee—you believe that? One minute she's throwing around some
nobody's name from a buncha B-movies from the fucking '70s. Veronica Swank? Gimme a break.
Then when that don't work she drops this bomb that she's a Chesterton. You buying it? It's a
weird-ass lie to tell us. They're not even industry players, but if they wanna be, now that's a whole
different thing," Frankie said. "I don't remember ever meeting him or the wife. Do you know 'em?"
"I have heard tales of der grand-pattern Swank, so is true that much
about die Mutter's maiden name, but so far we swim in different oceans."
"Eh, not that different, Syl. Sharpe's kinda chummy uptown, so I wanna
see how it all shakes out before I bounce the kid out on her ear."

"Right so. If she is true intruder or if imposter name-drop, is good for us, is good for Chestertons. Both ways we connect,
we help protect family name. No more degrees of separation," she said. "Goopy did us the favour by accident."
"Don't push it, Syl."
"Is true. Much better deal for us than for discarded girlie that this is name she use, Frankl. Make the call."

Lew crept over as soon as he saw Frankie heading off. He figured he'd have more luck explaining himself
to Sylvia Marie, but as she told him: "It is no thing. Nothing! Nothing! No need to dwell on bygones."

"Where are you going?" Stella asked as she propped herself up on the
desk and Red walked away. "Thought I wasn't supposed to be left alone."
Aha, that stopped him in his tracks. "No telling what I may get up to in here on my own."
Stella quit thumping the heavy heels of her boots together and leaned back. "Well?"

"Well..." Rem snapped and swung around. Whoa.
He, uh, he didn't really need to know that she was a natural blonde. Not like this.
But no wonder GG'd had that look when he'd grabbed her up trying to sneak past him.
All that wiggling around and bending over to break his grip with her weight was just part of the show.
"Come on, gimme a break," he said, not making eye contact...anywhere, "this isn't Basic Instinct."
"Oh-my-goodness, do you have any idea how much I love that movie!
The first time I saw it, I knew that was supposed to be me."
"Uh..." Rem wasn't even gonna get into how nuts that was, whether she was
talking a role, real life, or what; he was just gonna leave it at two words, "Ice pick."
She threw her head back and laughed. "Nobody's perfect."
Too bad her skirt was too tight to do 'the move' because she had it down to a...V.
Ha-ha-ha! What man would ever resist?
Rem motioned for her to bring those knees together, please.

"Oh, c'mon, you don't expect me to buy that you're some kinda prude, do you? Listen, I was raised by 'romance' sims.
Quote. Unquote," she said. "*Snerk* 'Raised'..." Stella gave a hollow laugh at hitting on a word even more ironic
than 'romance'. "I was conceived by romance sims, who were conceived by romance sims, so on and so forth;
we are a legacy corporation, after all—I was 'raised' by a bunch of fortune sims paid to act like family sims so
my parents wouldn't have to. Point is, you can't fool me. There aren't many who can. Definitely not many men."
"Don't flatter yourself too much there. If you think you got me figured out,
you should know I like my women full grown, in mind as much as body."
"So you do like the look of my body?" Ha-ha, she kinda liked it when he scowled at her like that, but it'd be more fun
if he'd just go with it already. "Take a joke, Red, come on. Look, I heard you; you're insinuating that I'm immature.
I'm not immature. I am...what's a good word?—Expressive. Yes. I'm expressive. While everyone else is busy
repressing how they really feel all the time, an actress has to be always in touch with herself. Mind and body."

"Like, right now I'm in touch with the fact that my body wants to be in touch with your body. But I'm not gonna, like, pressure you
or anything. Unless you don't give in because then I am totally gonna go for broke," Stella said, laughing at herself while she pulled
out a Vitality Slim and lit up. Then she remembered her manners and retrieved the pack from her inside pocket to offer him a cig.
"Nah, no thanks, I quit."
"Yi-i-ikes," Stella drawled unsympathetically. "But good for you. I guess."
She curved a stream of smoke out through the side of her mouth. It was only polite, right?
"Probably for the best for your, like, stamina" she said. "In the long haul, you know. Nothing more
pathetic than a wheezing old geezer running out of steam, believe me. Except maybe a young one.
That's just...wrong. Women, we don't hafta worry about that so much, we're always ready."
"Always able, maybe. Not always ready."
"Really? Must just be me then."
Rem wasn't even going there. Nuh-uh, nope.
"Tell me the truth. How old are you really?"
"Not this again—Wait, you're not one of those 'my body is my temple guys,' are you?"
"No, not exactly. But what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing...nothing. I mean, it's a good body," she said, "not a lot
of girls wouldn't want to kneel down and pay their respects."

Uh...what?
Rem had been thinking for a while that she might be a better actress than he initially gave her
credit for, but he didn't know what to think when she said that with a straight face. Or even what it
was okay to think...but whatever, he wasn't trying to get sucked into...uh, well, uh—into whatever
scene she was spinning. He wasn't here to run lines with her while she polished her act.
"You think I'm all talk, don't you? I'm not, though. Maybe we didn't get off to the
best of starts—completely your fault, by the way—but, what can I say, you're hot."

Stella puckered her lips around her cig and took 3 or 4 short puffs, like practice kisses,
before aiming a smooth stream of smoke his way that only dissipated inches from his face.
"Life's too short not to jump at your opportunities whenever and wherever you find 'em."
Red took another step back, but she'd caught him inhaling on the sly. Oh yeah, she saw that.
"If these walls could talk..."
Because Stella knew all about the 'casting couch', okay, and she knew all about the Mashugas' reputation.
It wasn't so much of a stretch to wonder and wonder she did: "what would they say about you, Red? Hmm?"

Bo and Valentine both noticed John Boy hovering around the same time. Val nodded him on over.

"I was just, I was thinking about what you said before. Like you know, I've been working
more on my changeup, but with, like, especially with the power hitters, what tips you off?"

Baseball.
Of course baseball.
Blech.
"Cuz like, most batters go for it, they do, and coach never got on me for my form, but with the guys I'm really
trying to get off swing, it's like they see it coming. Or if they don't, they still find a way to adjust fast enough."
"Look, you gotta—wait, first, tell me how's your slider?"

"Not as on as my cutter," Johnny admitted.
Yeah, Bo had nothing whatever to contribute to that conversation and no notion of faking like John Boy's baseball blather
was suddenly interesting because of who he was blathering to, so she got the hell outta there while the getting was good.

"Would you stop flinging your ashes on the floor? Where the hell were you raised, anyway, a barn?" Rem scolded
as he stomp-smoothed her scattered ash piles into the rug. (Clean-up also wasn't his job.) "There's a tray
over there with the cigars. Use that. Ugh, nev—Here." He reached over himself and shifted it closer.
She gaped at him for a few seconds, took one last half-hearted puff, and put it out.
"I'm not a child, you know. So that, that tone...you can cut it out. It was bad enough I had to show
Goopy my ID, but then that asshole ran off with it. I mean, my license is suspended but I still need it.
If only to prove to you guys that I'm legit all legal. I mean, shit, I never had to prove that I was
fuckable when I was underage, but now, all of a sudden, it's all you 'boy scouts' seem to care about."

Stella twitched her fingers and wished she hadn't prematurely ditched her cig, but she kept ranting all the same.
"At least with Goopy it made sense. Chestertons are notoriously litigious...Fucking hypocrites.
So your GG is not as dumb as he looks. I don't know what the hell your deal is."
She didn't want to piss him off again so she didn't spell out that he wasn't worth taking legal action against; it's just not how a
Chesterton would handle someone like him—y'know, someone not like them, but she honestly could not figure what his deal was.
Just accept that she was over 18, perfectly legal to fornicate in every state, so what would be the point in getting hung up
on a number? Here they were, both young and hot and horny—guys are always horny—and they were alone. He was wasting time.
They didn't know when Frankie would be calling for her, although Stella suspected there'd be no rush; she could see the Mashugas
both were intrigued by her. So she didn't even mind waiting for Frankie to finish up with Valentine Hart. But while she was waiting,
why not have some fun? It wasn't even a business-cum-pleasure arrangement that she had in mind because she already had her
foot in the door. And that was damn near unheard of for her but Red was red-hot, full-stop. When was he going to give in already?

"Okay, I'll bite."
Stella perked up. "About time!"
"Who are the Chestertons?"
She responded with an irritated snort.
"You're kidding, right?"
"You keep trying to trade on that name." He shrugged. "So who are they?"
"You must not be from around here."
"I'm not."
She was skeptical, but outside of the state, yeah, it was possible to not know of them, at least if
you weren't part of their circle—like he definitely wasn't. But no one who lived here, in the city especially,
could get away with acting like they never heard of the Chestertons. If they lived under a rock, the
Chesterton name was etched on top. So she wasn't sure if she believed him, but she could roll with it.
"Don't worry about them, then. Stella is the only one worth knowing."
"Oh yeah? What's she like?"
"Come closer and I'll show you."

"Back already? And what, nothing for me?" Val asked when Bo turned up as soon
as the kid ran off and he noticed she was chewing a mouthful o' somethin'.
"Whuh?"
"Must be some'n good left to nibble on over there."
"Oh." Bo gulped down the last of her pilfered morsel. "Uh no, not really. Why, are you hungry?"
"Nah."

"But Flo woulda brought me something," Val kept up the joke.
"Little Sister's good like that," Bo said, and with a barely visible
grin told him, "I've got the rest of those tictacs if you want 'em."

Syl's phone was ringing off the hook from the second FM stepped into her office, but he let it go on
and ring while he flipped through the rolodex in her side drawer until he found the number he wanted.
Yet the ringing didn't stop, one call coming in right after another.
"Yeah, who's this?....No. Yeah, it's FM...No...I said no. Call back later."

"Hey, Sharpe, you degenerate sonuvabitch, how's it doin'?...Yeah, yeah, it's me....Ha-ha! Not us! But how is that new
baby o' yours? Girl, right?...Cool, cool. Look, Ed, you know Chesterton, right?...Bingo, J.T., that's the one. I need you to
get me a direct line to him, ASAP. I'm in the middle of a shoot...Uh, yeah, do that then. Wherever he is, I gotta talk to him."
While Frankie held the line, that snap of the dollface on Syl's desk caught his eye.

They were a pair o' lookers, they were. Exotic, quirky...he couldn't put his finger on the right word but there
was an 'it' there. Absolutely. Even in regular life, not done up for nothing...he'd still noticed 'em, and he was FM.
The dollface in particular. She was out there covered up and quiet and she was interfering with Cat's meow! And doing
it without that vain little kitty knowing what got her tongue. FM could see why the sister was pushing for this one.
Be interesting to get her in front of his camera.
"Yeah, Sharpe?" Frankie said when he heard a click on the line, but on the second one realised it was the
call waiting, and on the third thought better of ignoring it. "Y'ello? This is FM...Ah, Chesterton, good, thanks for
taking a minute. As Sharpe probably told you, I'm in the middle of a shoot right now...Today, it's all about this
Valentine Hart spot...The ballplayer, yeah. But he's not gonna be available at all for post so we gotta get everything we
need to-day." These money guys always liked to hear those kinda little nothing details to feel like they were in on shit.

"So, listen, J.T., the reason I wanted to touch base is I got this girl came in and crashed
my set, but the kicker: says she's your daughter. Thought you might wanna know about it.
Normally, I'd've just tossed her outta here, but it did sound like she might be for real."
"A grifter? Throwing my name around in this city? That's cheeky."
"So you don't think it's a possibility that..."
"Of course not."
"Stella. That's the name she gave."
"Oh, I know that. No grifter worth her salt would've tried to pass herself off as
my eldest on a stunt like this. The problem for her is that both my girls are abroad."

"That's not closer. Okay, fine. 'Stella' really is the best of the bunch, though.
Jury's still out on the little brother cuz he's still in high school, but the rest of them all suck."
Red cracked a smile but he kept his distance.
"I mean, do you have any idea how many people my father—not to mention my grandfather—has screwed over? Literally! In the
boardroom and the bedroom. A Chesterton never hesitates to take your money and your wife. Except only one gets the fun but we
all get the consequences. I mean, try to keep friends when they are always one step ahead of you diddling someone's mother.
Or sister. Or au pair who doesn't even work for us. You can't. Not even my mother can keep up with the menfolk and she's
got one hell of an impressive tally all her own. Or you can try to go in the opposite direction like my prude sister—so smart...so
they say, but she's the idiot who turned down a Wright Fellowship to tag along with her dull-as-dirt boyfriend, Morty—what a
stupid name—on his grad school research thing in, like, the jungle cuz can't let that Roth money get away! It's pathetic."
"Wha-a-at?" he drawled with mock outrage. Not that she was paying attention.
"You wanna know who the Chestertons are? They're the reason why when I'm famous I'll be going by a totally different name.
The only good thing about it is that til then it opens doors. Or stops them being shut in my face." Stella grinned at him.
"But it's not what I'm banking on, Red. I am way too smart to leave my future to depend on them. I've got my own talents."

"I, uh, I believe you."
"And not just at the horizontal hokey-pokey."
"That's not what I meant," he said but then burst out laughing. "Hokey-pokey?"
"Yep. You put your—"
"Okay, okay, I get it," he talked over her improvised lyrics in between tapered laughs.
But Stella was irrepressible. "...In, out. In, out. Shake it all about," she sing-songed, reverting to the old Brit version
she heard once cuz it got straight to the point. Finally his guard was down; he didn't stop her when one of her casually
swinging legs found its way in between his and she was ready to hook him around with the other and pull him in. "You do
the hokey-pokey and you turn me all around..." Stella stopped singing and he stopped laughing. "That's what it's all about."

Song and dance time was over but playtime was just gettin' started.
Stella swooped forward, jamming her hands into his jeans pockets to yank him closer.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?" Rem unhooked her grip. There were bad ideas and there were Bad Ideas.
"Whoa yourself, stud," she said as she slipped his hold on her arm and tugged him over and the more he pulled away and
tried to wriggle out of her clutches the more excited she got. "Ooh, nice butt! Wonder what's going on around down here..."

"Ay, calm yourself...I said Stop."
He snatched her crawling fingers away and jumped back out of reach.
"Oh, come on, Red, I just wanna feel how big it is," she said, and he laughed at her while still holding her at bay,
but that only confirmed her suspicions. "Okay, tell me this, is it bigger than 8 inches? Ooh, it is! Bigger than 9?!"
"Would you get a grip."
"That's what I'm trying to do," Stella retorted as he pushed her back through her arm and let it fall. "C'mere."
"Uh, no. And you need to get down off that desk. Now."
Instead, she readjusted her seat, un-subtly letting her skirt hitch up even higher. "C'mere," she said softer.

"Oh, you think you know what you're tryin' to get into, do you?"
In response Stella puckered up to steal a kiss but he dodged it.
"Ai-yi-yi—You! You are a big tease, Red. That was such a chick move, too, you know that, right?"
"Bob and weave," he said, rotating his head side-to-side with that smug smile on his face. "Bob and weave."
"Not funny. C'mon, when are you gonna stop teasing me?"
"Is that what you want? Cuz, see, I think you like the tease."

Val had to laugh when his co-star re-emerged in a pair of matching drawers. So far as he knew,
they weren't branching out into the women's market at the launch, so gettin' her in his soon-to-be
signature skivvies wasn't nothin' but a gimmick. But, had to hand it to 'em, he thought it was real cute.

"See, that wasn't so bad. You didn't need my help."
"Shut up, Bo."
"You hear how she talks to me? You should be minding your manners in front of Mr. Hart, Fluffer," Bo teased.
"Ouch!" She jumped as her sister pinched the back of her arm. "What'd I say?"
"More like what didn't you do," Flo said under her breath as it wasn't anything
to interest or concern Valentine, so she thought. "Recognise that tank?"
"Wait. That's not mine?"
"Yeup."
"But—"

"I can't believe you did the fitting but yet neither one of you
noticed the top was so tight it was smooshing down her boobs."
"Oh."
"Uh-huh. Oh."
"Okay, but I had to prioritise; she's so tiny, I was more focused on
making sure the undies didn't bunch or sag. And they don't. See."
"Not all of her is tiny," Flo said.

"As I'm sure Mr. Hart can attest to."
Whoa-ho-ho...oh, she was funny, thinking he was about to step in that trap—that's what he got for
listenin' in on the girl talk—but he had her number all right. "I wouldn't know nothin' about that, cutie pie."
Yeah. Right. Flo had no doubt that at a glance he could tell her Cat's exact cup size and who knows what else!

Tiffany made a valiant effort to align strands of Cat's hair strategically, but to no avail. Ah well. The tank top wasn't
transparent in the light, at least, although apparently she was like a lot of the girls on her own roster. They simply would
not be dissuaded from, well, tweaking before a shoot and pretending it was the fault of a chill in the air at the studio.
Chills that seemed disproportionately to affect only the women on camera; never, say, herself, but then they believed
that she was made of ice already and she was happy to have them believe it. There now, that was a bit better.

Sylvia Marie put on her arty eyes to double check Frankl's set for him. Nothing was out of place,
but the bedsheets needed more crumpling to represent wild abandon of the lover Valentino.

Rem, oh man, he played himself lovely. Got too close and let his senses overwhelm his common sense.
She breathed in his ear that she was 19, legal to do, uh, all sortsa things, everything, she said.
And that just set him loose like not illegal was the same thing as not wrong.
Maybe age ain't nuthin' but a number but she...but...
Stella moaned and Rem went deaf to everything else, including the
voice inside his head trying to remind him that he didn't even want her.

Stella, on the other hand, was fully alert. She popped open her eyes at the sound
of the doorknob jiggling, afraid that he would stop, but Red didn't seem to notice.

Frankie wasn't about to knock politely—who the hell dared to lock him out of his own goddamn office!
He repeatedly slammed the flat of his open palm against the door, demanding to be acknowledged. Now, dammit!

"Oh—"
"No, don't. Don't stop."
"That's FM."
"So?"

Red yanked her down off the desk and Stella pivoted and flopped into the first
available chair as yet another guy was just walking away from her like it was nothing.
This day was, like, a freaking roller coaster ride and she was really fed up—like, really—with being able to get so close
to what she wanted and then getting shafted at the last minure. Or not getting shafted, as the case may be...Red.
And it really was all his fault. If he hadn't wasted time playing hard to get at first he
would've already 'got' her! And she didn't believe for a second that he would've stopped
in the middle of getting his rocks off just because someone was knocking on the fucking door.

Remington held the door open for FM, but he wasn't about to volunteer any excuses for why
it was locked. He didn't lock it. Although, in hindsight, he wasn't mad at all that she did.
"Ah. Aha."
But that was all FM said as he stepped in and she had the
nerve to glare at him like he was the one with no right to be there.
That kinda caught Rem by surprise after all that 'Frankie this' and 'Frankie that' like he was gonna
be her personal saviour from her damned silver spoon existence since that obviously wasn't special
enough for the likes o' her. If it was true, anyway. But he'd seen her flip modes on a dime more than a
coupla times, so either she was just that short-sighted or she was really jonesin' for her piece of R.E.M.!

Frankie sat down in the chair next to Stella instead of at his desk.
"Close your legs, child, this ain't an audition."

Stella actually blushed!
To have Frankie Mashuga—Frankie Mashuga, of all people, call her out like that? Mor-ti-fy-ing!
Meanwhile the muscles in Rem's neck tightened at that word 'child' so that he could barely swallow.
All that time he didn't believe a word she said, but then he went and let her convince him that she was, well, old enough to be that bold.
The idea that maybe she wasn't was...was...shit.
"So, I made a coupla calls and a car is being sent to pick you up. You can keep waiting here 'til it comes."
"Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Mashuga. I forgot today was
Harry's day off so I don't know what I'd have done if you didn't reach him."
"Buh-buh-buh. No. I'm Frankie Mashuga," he said, "I wasn't calling up
nobody's chauffeur, but I did go ahead and touch base with your father."

"You what? You didn't!"
"He made the arrangements to have you picked up."
"But that's not what I—I gave you the number to call!"
"Hey-hey-hey!" Frankie snapped. "Nobody comes in here and dictates to FM. You'd better be glad I did call him
and press the issue or your ass woulda been thrown out on the street you crawled in from and maybe—maybe
I woulda let Rem toss you a token for the bus if anybody even had one. Otherwise you, missy, were shit outta
luck. I don't take kindly to nobody crashing my set, so you'd better be real glad that J.T. vouched for you."
Stella slouched down. "You really told my father I was here? Fuck. They didn't know I was in town."
She tried to catch Red's eye, but he wouldn't look at her. Back to no sympathy for the poor little rich girl then.
"They do now," FM put a point on it and that was all he had to say on the matter.

Cat hopped over with a giggle and a wiggle as she displayed herself before Sylvia Marie. "Good?"
"Ach, PussyCat goes fishing for her praises, but if you 'vant, I say."
"Naw, its not like that, S—"
"Zhes, I 'vill say, PussyCat, you look purr-fect-o," Sylvia Marie told her. "You are ready to match Valentino?"
"Uh..."
"On camera. You wear the logo, zhes, and now you must match to him in every'zing."

"Valentine," Tiffany gushed as she cut him off at the pass, "let's have a gander, see if
you need any touching up. My, my, you do hold up remarkably well under the spotlight."
"That's good."
"And who knew you were such a natural actor! We've all seen what usually
happens when athletes try to act. But you, my dear, are an all-around performer!"
Flo-Flo could barely disguise the roll of her eyes.

Stella was steamed.
She couldn't believe that after everything this day was going to end even worse with her having to crawl back home
to her fucking family with her tail tucked between her legs. Well, she wasn't going to, that's all there was to it, she just
wouldn't do it. She didn't have any money on her or any options but she knew she wasn't fucking going back there!

She didn't want to go there.

"You're, uh, you're sure that's her? She's thrown around a lotta stories today."

"Yeah, Chesterton wasn't too keen on the idea there might be a con artist makin'
free with his and his daughter's name so he faxed me a picture. It's her, all right."
"Okay. I mean, if you're sure. But, uh, did he confirm the rest, like how old is this Stella, his Stella supposed to be? Did he say?"
"About 20," FM said, doing a quick calculation from the birthdate*** he was given. "You're in the clear."
"Whoa, pump the brakes, FM. I never—"
"In my goddamn office, you better never. But the girl is fair game, at least. Anywhere else. You
make sure you get her all packed off when her car comes. We're handling the thing with kid gloves
for Old Money Chesterton's sake, but I do not want her poppin' up around here again. Capisce?"

Frankie was ready to get this show back on the road.
When he got back upstairs, he found Cat was on set, good, good, and Hart was ready, cool.
"Last looks!" he called out, "And then we're back in."

"Where is London? Is still with imposter girl?"
"Get this, she wasn't lying, not about that. Rem's hanging around to see her off on her way back uptown. And you've
gotta call up Sally Chesterton tomorrow or something, set up a lunch for the four of us. Number's on your desk."

The tensions were a little too thick in that room for Rem to willingly turn around and close himself
in with her again. So despite FM's invitation to stay in his office, Rem was leading Stella over
to the small sitting room, out in the open, to wait for her ride, but looks like he's already here.
"That you?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, that's Harry. Got here fast, huh. Must, um, must be no traffic."

Red started to walk her out but she stopped him and snatched up his hand to scribble
her number into his palm with the pen she swiped from Frankie's desk for the purpose.
"Uh..."
"I like to finish what I start." It wasn't true in any sense other than
what she meant by it, but whatever, she did mean it. "Call me."

For all the friction and the frustration she caused putting herself squarely in the way, and staying there, well, Rem was tempted.
She did have some elements of his type: the good, bad, and the crazy...but, nah, nah, it wasn't...nah. The sure thing
wasn't always the best. Plenty of women in this town, hell, in this house, for him to have a go at! Especially when
lately he'd been finding himself wanting more than a go, or 2 or 3 or 4. Doesn't have to be anything serious, just...more.
Rem watched Miss Stella Chesterton stride out to meet her fate, head held high, despite how much she
didn't want to go where she was summoned. She greeted her driver and stood aside for him to open her door.
She didn't look at the guy or say thanks when he closed it behind her. Cuz why would she, right?
Eh. Whatever. Rem figured he should go bring around the truck now and can't forget to
disengage the locks, it was getting late in the day. But before he did any of that and definitely
before he went back, he should probably, yeah, he should absolutely...go wash his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was really meant to be together, so if (or when) you've got the stamina, the rest is under the next cut.
There's also this bit forking off directly from this midpoint to go along with the departing character.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Cat clambered her way around Val and into position behind him.
"M'kay, so this is gonna be the part where I start with his line from the scene without me?"
"Yep. Ready?"
"Yessiree."

"We all know a little something about the power of attraction..." she began, winding her
arms tighter around him while sliding down into the satiny sheets until her chin was
resting on his shoulder and all the V A L E N C E on her shorts had eased into view.
"Cut! Cut!"
Cat slumped and dropped her head against Valentine's shoulder blade.
How did she not nail that—she felt like she'd nailed it.
"Energy up, Hart! Energy up! Cat, that was...YES," FM said, signalling to her. "Perfection. Let's do it
exactly like that again. Okay. Back up. C'mon, up, up, up. Take the line from the top. And...Action."

Rem quietly rejoined the scene-in-progress after discharging his, uh, errands.
Tiffany had planted herself beside the producer-wife and there she intended to remain rather than relegated to the background.
"Cut. Good. All right now, lose the top, Cat."
'What?!' Tiffany's head snapped up.

And she watched in horror as the girl casually whipped the white tank up
and over her head and jammed it out of sight under the sheets behind her.
No one had mentioned anything to her about a topless scene—Good gravy on a country biscuit—Johnny!

Tiffany swung around to check on her son and separate him from the swineherd, pronto—just look at that one gawking—but she was
also mindful not to embarrass him too much. She pointed to him, demanding his attention, and mouthed at him 'You, yes you, Mister. No.'
Lew obeyed a similar internal command and slipped away unnoticed to scavenge the crafty table because he had
already, in Remington's words, 'played himself' that day, drooling over the unobtainable. Once was enough humiliation.

Tiffany looked to her assistants to assist. Please!
No teenage boy, not even her Johnny, was going to willingly walk away from a naked woman,
fully in the flesh. And if his mother was the one to drag him out of there he might never forgive her.

They got the message.
"No, I'll go. You stay and keep an eye on your guy."

"Heya. Come help me with a coupla things real quick."
"Love to, yo" Gordo jumped in. "But can it wait? Kinda in the middle o' the scene."
"Not you. But, uh, thanks. Come on, John Boy, you know I can't drive a stick."
Gordo grunted, which was as good as saying out loud that he could learn her on a stick any time she wanted.
It got the point across. Even the kid got up on his high horse like he could do somethin' about it.

Bo tugged Johnny's elbow and led him off.

And a minute too soon, too—poor l'il runt, missin' out on some primo nip action when
she reached back to fluff out 'er hair and really to flash them, who was she kiddin'?
"Don't do that!" Tiffany shrieked. "Your hair," she said, clearing her voice and stepping
toward the set, "your hair was arranged in a particular way and that is the way it must stay."

Val didn't steal too many glances at his designated acting coach this time
around, but when Bo got up he did make sure his cutie pie had stayed put.
He liked the idea of her sitting pretty over there, silently cheering him on.
Still, when Cat scooched up closer and pressed herself into his back,
he couldn't help aiming a smirk and a wink Flo's way. He had a feeling she
probably knew exactly what he was thinkin' about all this make-believe.

"Whoa, lotta traffic this time of day," Bo said as she led Johnny down and out the front door.
It wasn't all moving traffic, though, as they soon saw.

"Um, okay then. Guess we're not pulling the car around closer.
Too bad, kiddo. Missed out on getting in some underage driving."
"Geez. Are they all for here?"
"Looks like it. Party setup," Bo said, remembering that she had actually called up some of these guys for FM.
"Oh."
"I dunno if it's all for Valentine's sake, FM and Yes'm do love a good soirée. Usually, wrapping on a small project like this,
we get pizza and beer. But a full-on Mashuga party...better hope they keep it PG-13 so you can stick around for the fun."

"You're sure we can park here?"
"That's what the instructions said: Park on the side streets. This is a side street. Wanna see the message?"
"No, Clavier, I don't want to see your chickenscratch notes.
But I'm telling you now, if we get a ticket it's coming out of your pocket."

"Some of 'em are bound to be pulling off when they're done setting up, right," Johnny reasoned.
"You wanna wait and see? Think there's more coming?"
"I don't know. We can leave the rental where it is for now. I don't wanna chance it.
Looks like those guys already might have to move, at least if the mailman has his way."

As they headed inside they heard the guy from the piano car getting more amped up:
"Oh yeah? Go ahead, I dare you. I dare you! That's the wrong kinda blue uniform to be throwing
your weight around, friend. So go ahead. Go postal. I wanna see this. Oh no? Then I suggest
you get back in your stupid mail truck, back up—it's not hard, and drive a-round my ugly car."

So, that plan was a bust, but Bo was pretty sure it was still
a tad too R-rated on set to head back up there with John Boy.
Her next stall tactic was a detour to the kitchen.
"What's that face for? Are you really that bummed to be missing out on the boobage?"
"No."
"Trust me, you've got a whole lifetime ahead of you for getting
acquainted with your fair share of fun bags. There's no rush."
If anyone but Lilly-Bo had said that to him Johnny would've blushed out to his earlobes.

"I guess what I don't get is what's the big deal? Cuz it wasn't, like, any kinda deal
until you guys remembered that I was there. But it's not as if I was in the scene,
and it wasn't even a, you know, a sex scene. It was only, I dunno, more skin."
"Dude, that's never gonna fly. I saw your jaw hit the floor."
"But—"
"And do you have any idea how much some people pay to get their 'skin' to fill out like that? Sure isn't because
it's no big deal, those things are your most visible assets, so long as you can scoop together enough for
some cleavage, and making 'em bigger's an investment that always pays off in this business. At least at first."
"So, wait, you're saying that her, um, that they're...fake?"
Bo cocked her head in his direction, realising that she was talking to Johnny. Not that she'd forgotten
but...yeah. "We are not having this conversation," she said and threw back a gulp of Diet Coke.
"But, no, I don't think so. Not her. Unless she's got, like, the best surgeon ever...Y'know, now not only
is my tank gonna be stretched outta shape but it's gonna have so many freaking wrinkles the way
she bunched it up and sat on it instead of handing it over. I was going to wear that on the plane."
With Bo, either that was her way of changing the subject or she really was
PO'd about her tank top, but Johnny was not ready to forget and move on just yet.

"Okay, so, don't tell Mom this cuz I don't know if she knows, but my dad told me that my Grandma Sue went through
this, like, flower child phase, which really freaked Grandpa Ben out because he's always been such a straight arrow,
but he couldn't stop it, so for a while when Dad went home there'd sometimes be these naked people, just hangin' out in
the house he grew up in. I don't know if Grandma Sue ever joined in, I didn't wanna ask, but what my dad said was that
after the first surprise, it was all just, like, natural. He said that sexy isn't just a body by itself, it's gotta do with the mind."
"Maybe, but people have dirty minds. Always on and ready to be turned on. So, like, in regular, everyday
life without naked old people popping up to freakin' mindscrew you, you can't really tell the difference."
"But that—and most of 'em weren't old, that was my dad's point—but my point is that the commercial's
supposed to be, you know, sexy, right? And that's mostly on Val Hart. They didn't really care who the girl was, but
everybody wanted to make sure to get him with his shirt off. The way I see it now she matches Mr. Hart, that's all."

Bo stared at him.
"Wow. You didn't even blink or nothin', dude. But try telling that to your mother."
"She overreacted. It's what she does."
Bo shrugged.
"And it's not like, I mean, I don't think Cat's shy about her body."

"Uh, no. Not one tiny bit." That bitch.

"Yeah, let's really flare those claws, kitty girl."

Decisions, decisions.
There was Cat, in all her ample glory. And then there was Flo-Flo.
Cat had that thing, like a lot of models, where when you were looking at her, it was hard
to look away, you didn't want to. But the weird thing with her was that as soon as he wasn't
looking, he forgot about her. Like, *poof*, gone. Until the next time she crossed his path.
Not so with Flo-Flo. She didn't leave him with his mouth hanging open like a fool, but even without
Gordo's input, he had a feeling that she could. Her and her sister both could probably give most girls a run
for it when they chose, and yet she was so chill. She was the kinda girl he could take out. More than once!
They could go to the movies and discuss it on different levels, as fans, as insiders to the process.
And Rem couldn't help thinking that under all that chill she was a wild one in the sheets.
Damn he was horny.

It had been some 4 or 5 days since he got laid. That was the only explanation for him fucking around with Stella. Almost.
He wasn't the one for when some debutante wanted to go slummin' to piss off her folks. Nope, not him, not R.E.M..
But now the problem with Flo—the only problem with her—and with him going for it was that damn Valentine Hart.
Rem didn't like to lose, not to the fame game, especially not when that was all a dude had going for him. Maybe actor-dude
was all right looking but he'd have no clue how to talk to women and no chance of impressing one if his name wasn't
splashed across some opening credits somewhere. Celebrity was like catnip, man. But he could hold his own against a lotta
these actor-dudes cuz inevitably they were not the guy she saw on the screen and fell for. Sometimes they didn't even look
like the same guy in real life, which left plenty of room for a guy like Rem to come through and scoop up the remains of those
Starrywood fantasies. Unless she had her own angle and, uh, 'ambitions'—although that never ruled him out for some side action.
But these fucking athletes and rockstars! That was a different beast. These women acted like they were fucking gods, like
those horny gods from olden times, and they just flocked to the feast and whipped their panties off in offering. It was bananas.
He didn't see Flo-Flo being that kinda chick. She'd been on the scene for a minute and didn't seem like the type to go for the okey-doke...
But freaking Hart, man. Acting like he called dibs or something. And Rem couldn't tell if Flo was falling for it, but she seemed to like it.
If so, uh, more power to her. He wasn't heading down that road again for anyone.
"Hey! Rem! What the hell? I said I'm gonna need you to grab me a camera
for the stills. You know where I keep 'em. And don't forget the blimp."
Remington pointed to a box resting near his handheld. "Already got you covered."
"Eh? Ha. Good man! Thanks."
Flo looked over at Rem and smiled...Aw hell.

Bo couldn't think of any more delaying tactics, and she was getting antsy being out of
the loop, so they were about to head up and sneak Johnny into the back, parked right by the
stairs in case things got too risqué. But when they got up he found his own distraction.
"Whoa, hey, hi!" Johnny called out when he saw this girl his own age passing through.
"Eh?" She swung her head round to glance at him and a thick braid whipped against her back. "Oh.
Sa'k pase. Whassup," she said, her braid flying back over her shoulder as she kept pushing on. "Sa w ap fè la?"
"Uh, with me? Nothing," he responded (having interpreted what
he heard as something like 'so what'up, fella'). "Hang on—Wait!"

"What's your rush? The kitchen's this way, by the way," Johnny said, pointing behind him.
She tapped her wristwatch and peeked around him, saying, "You call that a kitchen? That is
not a kitchen. It's a place where they eat in a rush. The setup downstairs, that is a kitchen."
Bo was happy to leave John Boy down here with his new friend. It was probably for the best so ol' Tiffer wouldn't
completely lose her mind while he got an eyefull, but she wasn't about to miss out on any more of the action.

"Okay, okay. Don't think I've seen you before, so, go on, who are you?"
"Johnny," he said, "I'm Johnny."
"That's it? Just Johnny? Whatcha doin' down here, Johnny?"
"I work here. Well, for today I'm working here. With the crew."
"I see," she said, eyeing the badge around his neck and slowly accepting that it was a
genuine article, not a prop. "Only you looked kinda poster boy to me. Total TGIF, actually, so..."
"What does that mean?"
Johnny'd never heard that one before, but if it stood for something
like, um, This Guy Is Fine, or something, well, he could live with that.
"You know. TGIF. You flash your pearly whites with your TV fam and somebody or
everybody learns a 'neat-o' lesson by the end. Then you do it all over again on the next show."
"Wha-at? Pssh. Me? On TV? Get outta here."
"Why? If I ever saw a boy who looks the type to a T, you're him.
Can't blame me for seeing what I see. But it's cool that you're real people."
"Uh, thanks. Your turn, who are you?"

"Who, me? I am Zebeste."

"But my friends call me...Zebeste."
Johnny laughed.
"Well, they do. Because I am she," Zebeste* boasted with a straight
face but finally cracked and laughed at him and herself both.

"We are with the catering company," she said. "My father runs the
Scrumptious Nibbles midtown location and I am their secret weapon."
"I'm here helping out my mom, too. She's the designer and the stylist for the shoot."
"Fè yon bagay avek la vie, yah. Nou la. Take your kid to work day in full effect!"

"Yeah...until there's a naked woman on the set and then it's get this kid outta here."
"Whoa, yah? Man! That is not TGIF. Not TGIF at all."
"Told ya. But it's not a show, it's a commercial with Val Hart."
"With the Wings? I love him! Who's the naked lady?"
"Well, she's only topless, not, like, naked naked. Her name's Cat Sutter...you
probably don't know her, but the way they're talking everybody will after this. "

Frankie checked the gate and framed them just the way he wanted 'em and grabbed his stills cam. "All right,
you guys, we are still rolling so get ready to give me your lines again and remember to keep performing out to that
camera, not to me. Action," he said, ducking out of and around the shot as he approached from different angles.

Bo lingered with the guys, pushed herself right in between Gordo and Remington where they had stationed
themselves for maximum unobstructed boobage. Not that they needed to, she swung every which-a-way
getting into position, acting like she was all of a sudden so oblivious to the lurid gaze of the camera
and the crew alike. Yeah-Right. The guys, to Bo's complete surprise and sort of, like, disappointment,
were super professional about it. At least for the time while she had stuck herself in the middle of 'em.
Oh well. Bo knew at least one person in the room not fixated on Cat or her ta-tas.


Okay, so maybe Fluffer had to be a little bit fixated on them now since her new favourite guy went and grabbed himself a handful.
But now was so not the time for a 'coulda been you' joke.

"Since you'll be here for the party you'll get to meet Val Hart. He's even
cooler in person. You won't have to work the whole time, will you?"
Zebeste shook her head. "We'll be gone long before it starts,
soon as we finish setting up the spread for you guys."
"Aww. But can't you come back?"
"Can't," she said. "You want me to?"
"Yeah, tell your parents you're invited. I'm inviting you!"
"Really? As a date or as mates?"
"Mates?"
"Yah, y'know, mates, homies, chums, buds, friends. Mates."
"Oh, um..." Johnny wasn't sure how to answer. He hadn't really thought of it like that, but, like,
she was really pretty. His mind jumped to Jenny back home, though. Then again, it felt like she might
never get around to seeing him as anything more than a friend, so what's the problem. "Whatever," he said.

"Nah, man. Gotta tell me which one."
"Uh, mates, then."
"Cool-cool-coolio. N'ap banboche aswè a! Maybe. I'll have to see what I can do. My father's head might explode if I ask
to come back for a party at the Mashugas, but ya never know. Here." She handed him a kinda business card, except
it only had a handwritten number on it and the initials ZQ in the bottom corner. "That's my beeper #. Just in case."
"You got a beeper?"
"Yah, don't you? Gotta move with the times, Johnny Suburbia."
Johnny resented that dig. Especially since it felt accurate. And too close to his actual name when she didn't
even know it! He'd lived in the city all his life until not even a whole year ago, not exactly one like here but still.
"Look at your face. That wasn't a diss. And if we're gonna be mates you gotta be able to take a joke.
Me and my friends snap on each other all the time. Like—I don't know your mama, right—but, for reals,
yo momma is so dumb...she tripped over a cordless phone. Yo momma so dumb she spent an hour
lookin' at a box of orange juice because it said 'concentrate'. Yo momma is so old that her memory is in
black and white. Yo momma so fat she left the house in high heels and came back in wearing flip flops."
Johnny cracked at that one and snickered. And decided to 'snap' back with one of the few he knew.
"Your mama is so fat she jumped in the air and got stuck."
"Well, yo momma so dumb she put paper on the TV and called it paper view."
"Your mama is so old she knew Burger King when he was only a prince."

"Oh, okay, you do have jokes. But listen, yo momma so old she's older than your grandmama.
Yo momma so mean that the only letters of the alphabet she knows are FU. She is so mean
the devil gave her soul back! And yo momma stay so drunk she walks around the house
picking fights with her reflection. Yo momma so crazy she be tellin' yo momma jokes to you!"

"Zebeste!" A crisp baritone boomed through the air and knocked the wind out of
both their laughter. "This is as far as you have got to? I have been waiting for you to
reload and come back and this is where you are? With this boy—who is this boy?"

"Who are you, young man? Introduce us, Zezi."
"Sa se papa mwen—"
"English, Zezi, don't be rude. We all know by now that I am your father, but
we don't all know who is the young man monopolising your valuable time."
"His name is Johnny," she said and her dad raised his eyebrows awaiting a
surname...but she didn't know it. "Johnny, meet my father, Kalalou Quizine. Johnny's
working on the commercial upstairs, dad. Cool, yah? He's on a break now."
"Very well. But you are not on break. Good luck with your commercial, John. You'll have quite
the feast to look forward to to celebrate your success. Let's go, Zezi, and finish getting it ready."
"But—"
"Pa fè tèt di."

"What did he say?" Johnny asked under his breath but she only shook her head.
Although he didn't know what lots o' the words she'd said actually meant, this
was the first time he felt lost and out of the loop. Girls' dads'll do that to you.
"Come along, Zebeste. We must stick to our schedule."
She immediately fell in line behind her father. But before shoving off with her cart, Zebeste lifted up the
bottom flap of her cardigan to show Johnny the slim pager clipped to her waist. Out loud, she said "Don't forget.
The cassoulet, it is my specialty. You'll think you've never had real food before when you taste it."

Johnny wouldn't forget, but her dad seemed kinda strict. He hoped he would get to see her later.

When FM announced that this was the martini shot, there was a collective murmur and fidgeting
that Val picked up on and honestly a martini did sound like a pretty good start to him right about now.
"A-a-and...cut and print! All right, you two, that's a wrap!"

With those welcome words, Tiffany moved with a quick step, beating Valentine to his feet as she scurried onto the set.

Val was just ready to get out of there. Off this set. Away from
all the glare. He pivoted around the pink lady and kept on steppin'.
"Please," she said, motioning to Cat. "Stay where you are, dear. I've brought your wrap."
"My...? Oh."
Tiffany stretched open the dressing gown in her arms for maximum coverage
before the silly girl turned and unnecessarily exposed herself one last time.

"Good. There you are."
"Me?"
Flo hadn't budged from this seat—his seat, actually—so she wasn't sure he was talking to her.
"Socks are in the pocket, right?"
"Oh, in your robe, yes." Flo jumped up. "They're, uh...yep, right here."

Well, that was an improvement, at any rate, Tiffany thought. It was one thing to be 'unself-conscious'...but, of course, Tiffany
did not believe in genuine unself-consciousness. Certainly not of the young woman who chose being looked at for a career.

Cat did like being looked at. And she liked lookin'.
On her way past, she couldn't help but notice that this view was good from every angle.
Her eyes lit up as she grinned at the other girls and made underhand squeezing gestures for only them to see.
"Hubba-hubba," she said and giggled and skedaddled on outta there.

"Huh? Was that you?"
"Nope."
"Mm."
"Guess I'll have to retrieve my own shirt then," Bo said but Cat
kept going like she didn't know that was directed at her. "Ugh."
"Come on, here you go."

"Thanks, I—"
"No, no, I got it. You may not want the star treatment, but...tough," Flo said, unhooking
the loose sash with her pinky and holding it open for him to slip his arms into.
As no one would be offering Bo the star treatment any time soon, she swung her legs, ready to spring into motion. In a minute.
Because once she got up there was all the stuff to do. His work was done, his and the phoney-baloney's, but the rest of them
had to, like, clear a path back to the real world. Which was kind of a bummer sometimes. Anyway she could give it another minute.

"I see Poshy Pits is not so comfortable with body."
Tiffany glowered at her but bit back her first impulsive words, not sure whether she were referring
to that sly little nymph or her own body—she would have such a nerve! But this wasn't the first time
she'd held her tongue with Sylvia Marie Mashuga and why was she humouring this whackadoo?
"I am a fashion designer," Tiffany said. "I have the greatest appreciation for all the contours
of the human shape, but that does not mean that my teenage son needs to be exposed to the
excessive exposure of a woman whose only purpose in life is getting a rise out of the men."
Sylvia Marie clamped her teeth around that useless cigarette holder and looked askance at her.
"It is the power well worth having," she said. "Posh Tiffany cannot say no."

Valentine felt a vague sense of relief as he wrapped the Turkish cotton close
around him. He yanked his belt taut and secured it before he spun around.
He was intent on slipping away quiet while FM and everybody
were preoccupied. "Time for me to ease on down the road, cutie pie."
She nodded like she understood completely.
"Thank you," he said, clutching Flo's wrists in his hands. "For everything."
She'd been his go-to since he got there. Got him through his, uh, debut. Val wouldn't forget it.

"I'll see you later, Sweetness."

But for right now, he just wanted to get gone.

Okay, so Bo had been keeping a wayward eye on Fluffer and Mr. Valentine Hart all day because it was fun to watch
them play-flirt, but that, uh, that didn't look much like playing. Her mouth was still hanging open as she stared at her sister.
"What?"

Sylvia Marie swivelled when she noticed Val passing by. "Frankl, my love! Valentino is leaving set."
"Oh yeah? All right, listen up people, let's hear it for our star..." Frankie said, leading off a round of applause.

Val had to stop in his tracks to acknowledge all that damn clapping.
He tried to turn it around on them, thanking them, meaning it to be for all their hard work pulling
this thing off, but he felt like they weren't really tryna hear him. Maybe he'd taken centre stage for
too long and all that clapping drowning him out was a way of sayin' get the hell off the stage now.

Happy to oblige.
"Valentine Hart, everybody! Whoo!" FM egged them on to keep up the send off.

The sound followed him down the hall, practically until he got to the staircase that led up to the
private quarters and his dressing room, but he'd tuned them out. He was officially off the clock.

"All right, okay!" FM rallied their attention around him now. "Great job all around, people," he said.

"Everybody stepped up and we really pulled it off. On a four-man crew, no less," he said, granting Tiff's
kid a well-earned upgrade from half-man status. "But the job's not yet done! Wanna give an extra special
thanks to the ladies for goin' above and beyond. We're gonna have a lotta fun tonight. I promise you that.
But first, fellas, gotta break it all down and move it out. Let's get crackin'!" With that FM clicked his tongue
and aimed a finger Rem's way to take point. He'd see to it that everything, down to the last C47, got gone.


There were some deluxe new goodies waitin' on him that wasn't there earlier, including a l'il some'n-some'n in a gift box,
but Val'd made a beeline for what really caught his eye. He had to laugh at those three glasses they set out, thinkin' to keep him
covered for company, no doubt. It wasn't gon' be a triple-play kinda day but he appreciated the, uh, thoughtfulness of the gesture.

Broke out the Dom Perignon for him, eh? Right on. But for starters
he saw in the mirror that Frankie had hooked him up on the vodka front.

Or it coulda been Sylvia Marie lookin' out based on that bit o' conversation they had.
What's that she said? Every zing is better with vodka...

Yes'm, he sure was inclined to agree.

Sylvia Marie had not got so much of the work done narrowing down faces for pet project as der Frankfurter expected. It was
not like her eye to fail—she was like the Rain Man, if you threw stacks of headshots in the air she could not count in numbers
but she fixed always on exact right person for a part. The right faces spoke to her with no words. She told Frankl that they glowed.
More like auras than like ghosts because he didnt like ghosts, but she did know right faces when she saw them. Could be so that
because her eyes were so, so blurry before bloody mary cures she did not see the glow, but most probably there was not the
right face among them. Frankl had a curious proposition of his own but Sylvia Marie gave her eye one last chance to see gold first.

Tiffany braced herself for this next encounter since Mr. Mash-uga would speak to her.
"Hey, if you wanna sneak a peek at what we got, Tiff, I'm about to go up."
"Oh! The footage, yes. Absolutely, I would like to review it. Of course."
"Good, good," he said over a light laugh. "One o' the guys took it up already so you can
head on if you want. Third door at the end. Right in the corner. And I'll be right behind ya."

Flo was a bit wary when she heard Sylvia Marie calling to her as she was leaving. She had already gone
way beyond her actual job, happily, to keep things running smoothly, but she hoped they didn't forget she was
not the P.A. She might have to end up being the girl who said no to Yes'm if she made an unreasonable request.
"Ach, look at 'zat face—Frankl is so right-so on the money. There are the stars in your eyes. Twinkle. Twinkle." She fluttered a
forefinger at each of Flo's widening eyes as she said that, like she was cajoling them into sparkling for her. Metaphorically or whatever.
And it was still not the weirdest conversation Flo'd ever had with a producer. "Do you wonder how bright can 'zey shine?"

FM caught Bo being nosy and he gave her a sly thumbs up.
Yes!
"Bo!" What did you do? Little Sister mouthed at her but Bo shrugged as
innocently as she could and glided through the slide doors to the yellow room.
"Your wife will be joining us?" Tiffany turned back to confirm.
"Syl? Nope. She's got some stuff to take care of on her end so it's just you an' me, babe. Correction," he said,
commandeering her attention a few extra seconds to draw on the thaw, "it'll be just you and me, Tiffany."
"I, I see. That's the..." Tiffany cleared her throat, "that's the third door. In the corner?"
"Can't miss it. Right next to the bedroom."

"Nicht für dich."
Syl looked him straight in the eye as she was passing, tossed those sounds at him—words most likely, but who the hell
even knows sometimes—and made like she was gonna keep on going, too, but that sure as hell wasn't gonna cut it.
"What? No, no, no, c'mere, babe. What?"
"Lass das sein!" she said, "Schlecter hund." Clueing him in that she was speaking to 'the dog' in him...the dirty dog.***
"There is tension, yes. She makes no bones about it with you. Crackle, crackle. Crunch, crunch, crunch."
Frankie aimed a thumb backward in the direction Tiff went.
"You're a little late picking up on that one, Syl. But nothin' I can't handle."
"That is precisely no. No bone for doggie. Doggie can find better bone," she said. "Can't he?"

In no way did Bo do her fair share of the work today so Flo was content
to linger outside in the evening breeze and let her pack up their stuff.
She was a West Coast girl, through and through, but this city was really something at sunset and
it'd probably only get prettier with all the lights going at night. The Mashugas sure did have a helluva view.
Bo was the gossip maven but Flo knew it was true that Yes'm started out kinda like them, like every girl with
a dream, or guy, who picks up and lands in Starlettown expecting to run into their destiny, only she actually did.
But not in the way she planned. She sucked as an actress, like really, there was no other way to put it, but she
didn't call it quits. And one day, one probably very ordinary, boring day she met Frankie—he was on his way to
becoming FM but he wasn't FM yet, not then—and she found her real talents and they built this. It's the weirdest thing
to call them inspirational but, well, they kinda prove how y'never know what could be waiting just around the corner.

Val chugged down his first round and swiftly poured himself another small one.

He ambled back over to the mirror, not sure what to do with himself. There was a
surge of nervous energy that wouldn't settle but he had a feeling that once he sat down
he might crash. Hell, a nap might not be the worst idea. But he wasn't that kinda tired.
There was that whole party thing for the cast and crew later, and a Mashuga shindig wasn't usually one to miss out on but
this wasn't exactly that and he was tempted to blow the damn thing off, hop straight in the Trans Am once he got some
clothes on, and hit the road. He could do that. Give FM a call in a day or two, smooth it over, and send S some'n extra nice.
It was a thought.

Hmm. Let's see what it was she got for him. Might as well.

"Ahh." Val audibly drained his glass, punctuated with a tight-lipped smack.
It was a small room. Too small. But instead of stalking these four walls like a
caged animal, he went ahead and settled down into an inviting pair of red lips.
A nap wa'n't gonna happen. And leaving was out of the question. Not on account of that l'il trinket
or nothin' like that, but just...'cause. Oh, it was a nice gift, all right, definitely expensive and
kinda fun...ironic—he'd have to remember to put it on for later. But the thought itself, that was nicer.
He didnt have nowhere in particular he needed or wanted to be, anyhow. He just wanted to be.
In his element. In his skin.
The thing was done and he was jus' fine during the doing,
but this right here, right now, was the weirdest damn feelin'.**

Bo heard Flo come into the room as soon as she was finishing packing up.
"We're all clear here so I'm gonna go ahead and take this stuff down. Um, that's not ours."
"I know it's not ours," Flo said. "Come on, let's go, I'll help you."
"No, I got it, I'm just getting the stuff downstairs. I've got help to take it to the car.
Probably best they had to cut the 'before' scene if that's what they wanted her to wear."
"I know, right. Musta went over budget or something. It wasn't
a bad idea. This dress is a bad idea. Whose idea was it?"
"Dunno. Valence doesn't do women's wear. They probably sent over the colour scheme and let FM
and Yes'm work it out for themselves so they wouldn't have to come outta their pockets. Oh, Fluffer
grab our dress for me, the one for P&P, it's in the corner. Just throw it on top of the box. Y'know one
good thing about scrapping that scene is that we didn't have to watch dumb-dumb fuck up more lines."
"Bo..."
"It's true," Bo said on her way out. "And you know it."

Shame it was such an ugly dress. Bo and Tiffany could've whipped up
something to really wow 'em, like *POW!* if they'd only given them a heads up.
Hmm...

Flo-Flo scooted up closer to the mirror and angled the dress from side to side.
If it was picked out to fit Cat, she probably couldn't squeeze herself into it.
Well...maybe...if she determined not to breathe.
And it would probably clash so lovely with her hair!
But a proper slinky red dress...the crimson silk clinging to her every curve and his searching hands
hardly knowing where the supple fabric ended and her smooth skin began. Flo twirled around and
posed in profile, holding the dress taut to her shape as she made love to the camera, well, mirror.
She couldn't get her mind off the lost seduction scene. What a missed opportunity...with the right woman in the role.

Val wasn't reflecting so much on how he ended up here, puttin' himself out there like that (Money, money, money, money...Mon-ey!)
but why like this? Whose idea was that anyway? Strippin' him down to his drawers he didn't mind, can't exactly sell the goods if ya don't
show the goods, but who came up with this concept that he was going to act, act like somebody's idea of a Valentine Hart 'stead of standing
there sayin' "I. am. Valentine...Hart" in that off the damn beat monotone you sometimes get from your athlete spokesmen. "Valentine. Hart
wears...Valence...drawers. Valence. drawers. are. my. fav-ou-rite kinda drawers. Why, you ask? A'cause they cup my balls ju-u-s' right."
Now that woulda been an ad for the ages.

But he wasn't really in a laughing mood. And he should've been.
Enh, he'd really be ju-u-s' right soon as he relieved some o' this tension.
Then he could really Valentine Hart it up right. Go right on and Valentine Hart up the night.

The yellow room was a little exposed for Flo's liking but the urge to play 'what-if' got the better of her so she absconded
with her costume to the dressing room-slash-bathroom that was set aside for the lesser talent—glad Cat was apparently
long gone—and tiptoed back on bare feet to complete the look with the shoes before she took it all in at the mirror.****

Bo came back exactly in time to catch her in the act.
Not that she was the least bit surprised. Bo knows her little sister.

Fluffer is really good at being Miss All Business when she's on the clock or
on a mission for something she wants, but she wasn't made for assistancing.
She could act like she didn't want the part of Valentine Hart's leading lady—and maybe she didn't
want it, before, since she flat out refused to audition for it—but they both knew she woulda rocked it.
"You never told me, what did Yes'm say to you?"
"She likes my face."
"And?"
"And what?"
"That's all she said?"
"Pretty much."
"Ugh. You suck at schmoozing."
"Thank you."
Bo did a sweep of the room, made sure she had everything, and she
stepped back and watched Fluffer preening for her audience of one.
"You should totally wear that to the party."

"You're buggin'."
"Why not? It fits."
"No. Its not mine, it's not me, and no way in hell would I ever."
"So what were you going to wear?"
"I don't know. What I had on, probably."
"Oh no you won't," Bo muttered. "Are you crazy? Flo! This is not a pizza and beer wrap up. It's us hanging out with FM and
Yes'm and Valentine Hart. With no other competition to, like, outrank us. The least you can do is make an effort." Because she
had been busting her butt on Little Sister's behalf...behind her back. Plus she intended to get in some plugs for herself now, too.
"It's who you know."
"It's who you know!"
"We'll see."
"And c'mon, if you were really over it you wouldn't be prancing around in that ugly dress
fantasizing about 'feeling the power' with Valentine." Bo stuck her tongue out at Flo and made a
dash for the door. "Ohh, Mr. Hart. Oooh, Mr. H-h-hart!" she leaned her head back in and panted.
Flo pushed her the rest of the way out the door and kicked it closed behind her.

That guy Gordo was waiting for Bo at the bottom of the stairs just like he said he would be.
He was kinda in-your-face and cocky but she didn't mind stuff like that.

And now he was stone silent.
What was up with that?
It's not like the box was that heavy or anything so he wasn't, like, concentrating.
Him clamming up as soon as they were alone was about the last thing she expected.
It threw Bo off for a minute but it's not like she minded picking up the slack.
"Thanks for offering to help me get this stuff to the car. It's kinda empty out here now, think there'll
be a problem if we move the car around closer? That was you guys' truck we passed, right?"
"*Nnh*" he grunted.
"So we should be able to park there, too. Right?"
"Nn-hunh."
"Cool. I meant that about not being able to drive stick, though, so, like, do you mind? Will you pull the car around?"
"*Nnh*"
"And remind me to grab my sister's carry-on. I don't know who she thinks she's fooling but I know she's got at least one
outfit stashed in there ready to go hit the town in," she said, basically to herself since he obviously didn't feel like talking.
"Okay."

Well, Bo wasn't completely right about all the things she was saying about her.
But she wasn't totally wrong either.

*Tap*Tap*Tap*Tap*Tap*Tap*Tap*
Ah...
Val wasn't about to ignore her tapping on his door this time!

"Hold up o-o-ne second, hon," he whispered to himself as he shuffled over to dispose of that extra glass.
A bit o' bubbly might definitely be in order now and he didn't want her getting the wrong idea or worrying
he's the one that got it wrong, like he couldn't read a woman who was up for...whatever and one who wasn't.

Oh. Hmm...
"Surprise."

Flo finally stopped playing dress up and changed into her regular clothes.
The whole thing was too...no. Funny how fast a costume can go to your head.

"Oh, hey, Flo-Flo! Just the girl I've been looking for!"

"Yeah? Whassup?"
"Thought you guys were already moved over to the green room. It's a lot more comfy, room to spread out
and chill. Oh, and there's a shower in the bathroom in there, just so you know. You won't have to traipse back
and forth through here if you're gonna freshen up before the party or anything. Matter o' fact, I'm about to hit
the showers myself soon as we finish loading up the truck. But if there's anything you need help moving...?"
"No thanks, Rem, I'm good."
"Okay, cool. Offer stands for, y'know, anything you need," he said and let his eyes wander down
her bare legs without even trying to be slick about it because, uh, inquiring minds want to know.
"As you see, I'm already halfway to chill mode. Already kicked my shoes off."
"Chill mode looks good on you. Almost forgot what I was coming to say. Yes'm wants to see you. She's in her office."
"Oh...but I think Bo took my shoes—Don't ask."
He laughed and shrugged. "Hey, some people make you take 'em off in their home. And Yes'm might get a
kick outta you knocking around her house in chill mode like you own the place—I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Just go.
She's also got this soft fuzzy-like carpet in there that'll probably feel pretty sweet under those pretty toes."

"Don't tell me you're really surprised," Cat said.
Surprised? No. Not now that she was here, but she ain't the one he'd been...well. But this did make a helluva lot more sense.
He pushed back the door and Cat glided in.

Val gave a look up and down the hall, not sure why, but he'd given a pretty direct indirect invitation
to, uh, somebody else. That wasn't an option he intended to squander on a whim that wasn't his own.
Cat thought it was cute that he was making sure the coast was clear.
But whether it was or whether it wasn't, she wasn't going...

...anywhere.
"You already got a sneak preview of the girls. Thought you might like a crack at the whole shebang."

She lunged at him and landed on his lips.
But she didn't stop there, frantically kissing him all over. No chance for a slow build with this one. But damn, baby...


Heh-heh, damn, baby.
Groupies.
Gotta love 'em.
*
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading!!! And Happy Simming :-D
Notes for One:
*'Swank' is Stella's mother's maiden name, and particularly fitting as her stage name, or so she thought. It's also the one her aunt Vera went by.
And, in case you didn't know or didn't notice the Morty reference, 'Chesterton' is itself the maiden name of the future Mrs. Stella Roth. Choosing to include her presented me with a dilemma - that I got over in about a minute because it just had to be her - seeing as Cat is so young here (Cat Sutter being, of course, the future Catherine Viejo) and Riverblossom introduces them with a much wider age difference than the 3 years they've got between them now. But I've always meant for Catherine and her friends to be younger than their canon selves should I introduce them off on a bender and winding up in Widespot. Now that means in the 20-some-odd years or so that will have elapsed, Cat will still only be in her forties, but I'm fine with that. And it means that when/if she should show her face in the future you now know that she and Val already have a bit of history.
**Now, one reason Val might be alone in a hotel room is because all good guests get to steppin' when the party's over, if they know what is good for them.
***Frankie was off on Stella's age by some months because her birthday is later in the year, so she is 19, like she finally admitted Remington. While perfectly legal, like she said, she didn't want to say because that 'teen' on the end wouldn't exactly plead her case.
Notes for Two:
*Zebeste, well, first of all her sim is Strange Tomato's incarnation of Zebest Quizine. At some point, I decided I needed a caterer and wanted a peer for Johnny but had other plans for Julien Cooke that I didn't want to circumvent on a whim and luckily remembered having seen Zebeste. She's perfect. I aged her down but her aspiration and personality spread are unchanged. (Dad Kalalou is just Zebeste with possibly some minor adjustments.) Almost certainly because of the name, she was immediately of Haitian descent to me, and this is the point I wanted to make: Zebeste was born in the States; she only lapses into kreyòl because she can and she does it heedless of whether whomever she's talking to will fully understand her. Most get the gist. But anyway, encountering an age peer while conscripted into this adult world creates an instant comfort zone between her and Johnny that might not be there if they were on their own turfs. All I can say is that if he ends up spending more time around her he might actually go back home shouting "N'ap boule! N'ap boule!" at random intervals like all her other friends, who also don't speak a lick of kreyòl. Zebeste is kind of infectious that way. You can imagine how Tiffany would lose her mind the first time she heard him.
**One thing I wanted to convey is that, after the shoot, Val was feeling something that was like what he had no experience with, something like regret after sex. He felt exposed and kind of empty; not gratified, definitely not connected, and not sure it was worth his while to have put himself out there like that.
***Bad dog, dirty dog, it's all the same to Frankie. Proof that he's on the primrose path to some good, messy fun.
And this was not supposed to be the chapter where Quinn throws random untranslated phrases at you for kicks but, what can I say, Sylvia Marie's nuts and I was equally set on how Zebeste sounded to me and to Johnny. Of course, they're also both speaking to people who don't know what they're saying and could both as easily as not just speak English, but they have different reasons for when and why they don't. In any case, their limitations are my limitations so you may have inferred meaning far more easily than some of their interlocutors.
****Okay, so the photoskinning was fine by me for the flat object that it was, but trying to make a wearable outfit for Flo out of that dress on a hanger...yeesh.
But of course I couldn't resist the idea that Flo couldn't resist trying it on so, y'know, I did what I could. Let's blame its overall subpar-ness on the Mashugas, shall we; they are clearly not to be trusted with wardrobe decisions :-)
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