Rhapsody In Ink and Glue
I’m going to need an exclusive. Three weeks. No, three weeks from now. That’s right. No, don’t call, don’t write. I’ll get back to you. Hold your questions until I call. Speak to no one. Don’t leave your house. Okay, you can go out for food. This project has possibilities; I love the undertone of postmodern angst. It captures the zeitgeist. Ciao.
And, so the Duchess waits. The Earl’s secret mission is a success. For his part, the Earl takes an early breakfast at a Denny’s on Doheny. Lars is having pancakes; Natasha is smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. After a job the adrenalin reverb is tough. The morning sun stains greasy windows; the Earl is gripped by an unexpected melancholy. Sure, it was great to help the Duchess, but what about me? What about my fading aspirations? A paperback stand taunts him. The Nanny Diaries…what cursed luck that his former nanny couldn’t write. Since the earl has no children, all she had to do was write…
“Bittersweet, isn’t it?” Lars asks. “Like the time I sold a 76 Volvo to Danielle Steele’s neighbor’s nephew. I was this close to greatness.”
Natasha’s back. She has tradecraft issues. “We left the extension ladder behind. That ladder is clearly labeled as property of the Earl…it has your contact information and the promise of a reward.”
“Make my Grand Slam to go,” The Earl cries. “We must recover that ladder.”