glass table in front of her.
"Coffee?" said Terry.
"No, really—"
"No trouble." Terry’s peremptory tone made it clear it would be rude to leave. She was already moving as she spoke, crossing to a counter near the doorway where a small refrigerator and coffeemaker sat, giving Nina a chance to look around the studio.
The single, long room had white walls and picture windows covering one long side, interrupted only by the doorway and counter. On the other side a long counter held a clutter of built-in tape decks, a laser disc player, a double cassette deck, a CD player, a computer, a video player and large monitor, and, among other machinery, some film editing equipment Nina couldn’t name. Wires, neatly labeled, were plugged into rows of surge protectors built along the back edge of the counter.
"What is all this equipment here? Do you really need so many speakers?" Nina said, seeking a neutral topic until she could make her escape.
"Well, let’s see," Terry said, slapping the coffeepot in place and punching the on button. "Two custom VIFA speakers, two custom subwoofers, two custom UIFA speakers," she said. "All necessary if you want to keep your slander audible. Then there’s the three-quarter-inch video equipment for making easy rough cuts from film I’ve dubbed to video.
"The tape decks I use for sound editing and creating a track. Some smaller format, to play rental movies and help me plan shots in advance. Oh, and things like dubbing the Tamara Sweet film down to VHS so that her folks can have a nervous breakdown watching on home equipment.
"That’s a bad way to see a film. Video’s a poor cousin to film, even if you’ve got an eighty-inch screen and the best possible quality dub. Two hundred watt per channel power amp for the subwoofer. The Steenbeck, of course-"
Nina put up a hand. "Enough. I’m assuming you have a decent alarm system."
"I don’t worry too much. I have a solid storage closet to lock cameras in when I’m gone. I leave only the big equipment out. The portable stuff goes in there if it’s valuable. So Jerry and his bonehead son, Ralph, don’t get any ideas."
"Quite a setup."
"I’ve been doing this for a long time. You accumulate equipment, and you always need more. And you always need something newer. Naturally, that takes cash." She took a chamois cloth and polished the lens on a video camera. "You know I went into debt to make this thing. I just couldn’t resist. What a topic. It spoke to me. Plus, of course, I plan to make my money back, and more."
"Listen, Terry—"
"Bob should come see it sometime. He likes movies. He wishes you had a video camera. He told me when we talked in the conference room."
"I wanted to ask you about that...." Nina started, and then changed her mind. She would talk to Bobby.
Enough coffee had dripped into the pot. Terry poured two cups, and Nina drank hers swiftly, intending to leave at her first opportunity. She didn’t like the feeling being on Terry’s territory gave her, of being ensnared, trapped and out of control of the situation. She gave a series of uninformative answers to what eventually became a heavy barrage of questions about her and about Bobby. What a strange mix the woman was, with her expensive equipment and her notions and her nosiness!
Then Terry picked up a camcorder and pointed it at Nina.
"Don’t do that!"
"You’re very photogenic," Terry remarked from behind the black box. "Small people look bigger onscreen. The camera gives them presence they lack in real life."
"I don’t like this," said Nina. "Please, turn it off."
"Where’s his father?" Terry asked, the camera in front of her implacably humming. "He doesn’t seem to know."
"What?" Nina, struck by the question, forgot the camera.
"He said he doesn’t even know who his father is. How about it? Tell Terry. Was his daddy a bad man? Did he leave you or did you leave him?" Her voice had a cajoling, teasing tone.
"You talked with my son about his
"Coffee?" said Terry.
"No, really—"
"No trouble." Terry’s peremptory tone made it clear it would be rude to leave. She was already moving as she spoke, crossing to a counter near the doorway where a small refrigerator and coffeemaker sat, giving Nina a chance to look around the studio.
The single, long room had white walls and picture windows covering one long side, interrupted only by the doorway and counter. On the other side a long counter held a clutter of built-in tape decks, a laser disc player, a double cassette deck, a CD player, a computer, a video player and large monitor, and, among other machinery, some film editing equipment Nina couldn’t name. Wires, neatly labeled, were plugged into rows of surge protectors built along the back edge of the counter.
"What is all this equipment here? Do you really need so many speakers?" Nina said, seeking a neutral topic until she could make her escape.
"Well, let’s see," Terry said, slapping the coffeepot in place and punching the on button. "Two custom VIFA speakers, two custom subwoofers, two custom UIFA speakers," she said. "All necessary if you want to keep your slander audible. Then there’s the three-quarter-inch video equipment for making easy rough cuts from film I’ve dubbed to video.
"The tape decks I use for sound editing and creating a track. Some smaller format, to play rental movies and help me plan shots in advance. Oh, and things like dubbing the Tamara Sweet film down to VHS so that her folks can have a nervous breakdown watching on home equipment.
"That’s a bad way to see a film. Video’s a poor cousin to film, even if you’ve got an eighty-inch screen and the best possible quality dub. Two hundred watt per channel power amp for the subwoofer. The Steenbeck, of course-"
Nina put up a hand. "Enough. I’m assuming you have a decent alarm system."
"I don’t worry too much. I have a solid storage closet to lock cameras in when I’m gone. I leave only the big equipment out. The portable stuff goes in there if it’s valuable. So Jerry and his bonehead son, Ralph, don’t get any ideas."
"Quite a setup."
"I’ve been doing this for a long time. You accumulate equipment, and you always need more. And you always need something newer. Naturally, that takes cash." She took a chamois cloth and polished the lens on a video camera. "You know I went into debt to make this thing. I just couldn’t resist. What a topic. It spoke to me. Plus, of course, I plan to make my money back, and more."
"Listen, Terry—"
"Bob should come see it sometime. He likes movies. He wishes you had a video camera. He told me when we talked in the conference room."
"I wanted to ask you about that...." Nina started, and then changed her mind. She would talk to Bobby.
Enough coffee had dripped into the pot. Terry poured two cups, and Nina drank hers swiftly, intending to leave at her first opportunity. She didn’t like the feeling being on Terry’s territory gave her, of being ensnared, trapped and out of control of the situation. She gave a series of uninformative answers to what eventually became a heavy barrage of questions about her and about Bobby. What a strange mix the woman was, with her expensive equipment and her notions and her nosiness!
Then Terry picked up a camcorder and pointed it at Nina.
"Don’t do that!"
"You’re very photogenic," Terry remarked from behind the black box. "Small people look bigger onscreen. The camera gives them presence they lack in real life."
"I don’t like this," said Nina. "Please, turn it off."
"Where’s his father?" Terry asked, the camera in front of her implacably humming. "He doesn’t seem to know."
"What?" Nina, struck by the question, forgot the camera.
"He said he doesn’t even know who his father is. How about it? Tell Terry. Was his daddy a bad man? Did he leave you or did you leave him?" Her voice had a cajoling, teasing tone.
"You talked with my son about his
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