by T. C. Clover
how they are – out in traffic. There is so much warmth, and not a hint of hubris among them. They’re so caring and full of life. One man even offered to take me home the other night. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Yeah, I’ve found that ample-chested women usually have a hard time finding their way home,” Oslo confirmed with a nod. “There are always twenty or thirty men that insist on getting you safely to your door, whether you like it or not. It's like that rap music they play late at night about women like you. They’re always talking about your personality and intelligence – in complex metaphors, of course.”
“It’s all far too complicated for us to understand,” Litz expressed with a smile.
“Yes, we’ll never get the lonely nuances of the aggressive orange collar male.” The bearded man added with a slight chuckle as he stood up from the river and walked toward his shoes.
Litz jumped down from the picnic table and snatched the brown paper bag from its surface. She was careful to remove a sandwich wrapped in cellophane from within the bag, which she presented to her friend.
“I told you not to feed me!” Oslo argued as he slapped the sandwich out of her hand and watched it land near the edge of the river. “You know that I need to stay strong to survive. I can’t be depending on anyone.”
“It’s just one sandwich,” the idealistic woman conveyed with apologetic eyes, appearing heartbroken by this rejection. “I wanted to show my gratitude.”
“Well, don’t show your gratitude to me!” He growled with a callous expression, turned on his heel, took a few steps and began to put on his shoes. “Look, Litz, I think you’re a dynamite gal, but don’t cheapen our friendship with gestures. You and I…are better than that.”
“Yes, we are,” she agreed with tears streaming down her face. “But I thought that-“
Oslo got to his feet and began to stomp away, but stopped after a few steps and turned back toward the erratic woman. He then sighed with fatherly exasperation and approached Litz with his arms outstretched, giving her a loving hug. Litz could smell his foul body odor, and his beard scratched her face, yet the television star enjoyed the embrace like a spiritual awakening. She started to weep in the midst of their closeness, but Oslo shook the diva to make her stop.
“Your mother would be proud of you, Litz Rack.” Oslo foretold with a righteous tone of voice. “And I’m proud of you.”
Litz became lost in this embrace despite the snickers that echoed from her security detail. She felt that Kevin and William were remiss in their prejudices, and asserted that men like Oslo were invisible to them.
V. Deviled and Overeasy
“Have you seen CKB?” Stoney asked the key grip on his way to the formal area of the set.
The bewildered employee responded with a shrug as though refusing to claim guardianship of the criminal. He clutched a camera rigging tight in his left hand and departed from the desperate police officer toward the living room. Stoney saw the dietician moving along the hardwood flooring of the hallway toward the kitchen and pointed his right index finger at her, preparing to ask a question.
“No, man, I haven’t seen CKB!” The tall, blonde woman blurted out before Stoney began to speak.
Stoney grimaced and patted down the tufts of hair that were sticking up from the back of his head. He glanced down at his white long underwear and gathered that his results may have been better if he had freshened up and gotten dressed.
“I saw CKB earlier this morning,” an eighteen-year-old intern declared as he stood with his left shoulder against the hallway wall in a forced pose, attempting to be mysterious.
“Did he say where he was going?” Stoney assimilated with reluctance and took the bait. “Do you know where he went?”
“He was headed to...” The young man paused and sighed at his coworker, displaying an expression of longing. “You know, I always help you guys with all of these crappy tasks, and you never pay attention to me, and rarely say thank you.”
“Well, what do you want?” The officer asked in an irritated tone, biting his lip and resisting the urge to make a fist with his right hand.
“I want you to put in a good word with the director for me,” the teenager requested with a snarky smile. “It’s time for me to move up in the world.”
“Fine, fine,” the Japanese man agreed in a hesitant manner, showing off a disgusted gaze. “Where did he go?”
“He went down to the park to stretch out his sprained ankle,” the intern touted in a coy manner, nodding at the floor like a rock star.
“And…you’re fired,” Mike chimed in with an aggressive handshake to the intern as he darted between the youthful man and Stoney. “What are you waiting for? You’re done. Get your stuff. Get out!” The director reprimanded in an elite manner, delivering his messages before the teenager could speak. “Security, please escort this young man – I don’t know his name. Just get him out of the building. He tried to extort one of my actors.” Mike turned to a security guard on the set and bid farewell to the intern before pivoting back to Stoney. “So talk to me, big daddy, I thought we had this all worked out.” His posture became friendlier as he put his arm around the policeman and began walking him toward the kitchen. “I told you that I took care of the video situation, so why are you trying to track down CKB?”
“I can’t trust you on this one, and I sure as hell can’t trust CKB,” Stoney protested with aggression, pointing his right index finger at the director’s chest.
The director paused and looked down at the sleek black jacket of his pinstripe suit to wipe away some dust from the right sleeve. He took a bit longer to straighten his gold tie and seemed to be considering what Stoney had said.
“Yeah, but if you did get the camera from CKB, there’s no way you’d know if he had another copy of the video somewhere.” Mike confided with a sober smile, trying to help his talent cool off and relax. “Look, I’ve got a big announcement today, and NASA has sent a group of caterers to surprise us with an amazing meal…or allegedly an amazing meal. It probably sucks; I won’t lie.”
“That’s a first,” Stoney grumbled with his arms folded in a disenchanted pose. “Look, dude, I won’t let this drop until I get to talk with CKB, okay? So get us in a room together, and I’ll stop poking around your little…whatever you call it here.”
“Is that what you’re wearing for the show tonight?” The director critiqued with a pouty exhale from his lips. “This is New York, and you’re in television now, officer. Let’s put on some clothing that doesn’t scream poverty to the world.”
“I want my meeting,” the Japanese man reiterated in a forceful manner, breathing heavily through his nose.
“Okay, done. Just get out of those…rags.” Mike accepted with a perturbed glare and shook his head in disgust. “Please get a shower too, the NASA people will be here soon. I’ll call CKB and get your meeting. That video is not going on the Internet.”
“Jazzy’s in the shower…again,” Stoney said with a chuckle as he departed from the kitchen toward his bedroom.
“I’m gonna’ have to add our water bill to her contract.” The director muttered to no one in particular, gripping the back of his head with malcontent.
“Give it back to me, Richard!” Litz cried out from the hallway as cameraman Doug filmed her from the right. “My mother gave that to me! It’s all I have left!” The tormented plumber shouted through the thick wood of her co-star’s bedroom door. “Don’t barricade yourself in there like a coward. Come out and be a man!” She pleaded with building rage as tears streamed down her face.
‘What’s going on?’ Jennifer Priest mouthed to Doug from off camera, gesturing toward Litz with her right hand. The cameraman shook his head and shrugged with caution as if to avoid shaking the camera. ‘It’s good TV; just keep filming.’ The producer cheered in silence with a thumbs-up from her right hand, inspiring expressions of disbelief from her team members.
She then made her way to the kitchen for a scheduled announcement.
“Richard, I’ll give you a gold coin for that frog; I swear to God,” Litz submitted with a defeated expression.
“Oh, look, I just accidentally ripped the head off,” Richard teased in a callous voice, “and the little Styrofoam pellets inside are spilling all over the place.”
“Richard! If you don’t give that frog back to me right now, I’m going to rip this door down and use it to crush you!” Litz screeched in an operatic tone, hitting notes that were audible throughout the complex.
Members of the camera crew shook their heads when she screamed, showing genuine concern for her mental state.
“Do you know what I’ll do to you if you destroy that?” She threatened in an almost demonic voice with her mouth next to the doorframe, feeling ashamed when some spittle dripped to the floor. “Do you have to film me right now?” Litz turned and interrogated the camera crew with a shameful demeanor. “Seriously, right now?”
Richard opened the door a few inches and was amazed when Litz slammed her right shoulder into it several times. He backed away and let the door come open to avoid injuring her body. She moved toward him like an enraged spirit in a horror movie, and the camera crew followed behind her in a religious fashion. The bashful conservative felt shocked by her ferocious attitude