big as he was. And from where I sat, it looked pretty darn good. A lot better than my brown mystery-meat sandwich.
“Hey, little fella,” I said. “Want to trade lunches?”
The squirrel froze in his tracks and stood perfectly still, hoping that he and his bagel would blend in with the scenery.
“You give me your bagel,” I said, “and I’ll give you this lovely brown sandwich.”
With that, he blinked twice and shot up the drain-pipe. Obviously this was a squirrel with a discerning palate.
“Hey, you!”
I looked up and saw a security guard out in the roadway, perched on a golf cart, the main means of transportation on most studio lots. He was a beefy guy who looked like he was poured into his uniform and forgot to say “when.” One deep breath, and the buttons on his shirt were history.
“No sitting on studio sets!” he shouted.
I picked up my sandwiches and got down off the porch.
“You’re not supposed to leave the tour,” he said as I approached the cart.
“I’m not a tourist,” I bristled. “I’m a writer.”
“Yeah?” His eyes squinted in disbelief. “What show?”
“Muffy ’n Me .”
“Oh.” He grinned. “You mean Blazing Mattresses . That’s what we call it down at the guard house.”
Apparently news of the Vanessa/Quinn boinkfest had reached the security department.
“I heard they had to send the bedspread out to be cleaned.”
“I’d better get back to the office,” I said, afraid that any minute now one of his shirt buttons would pop off and poke my eye out.
“Need a ride?” He patted the seat next to him and shot me a lascivious grin, no doubt hoping that all the women on the Muffy set were as promiscuous as its star.
“No, thanks. I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, and took off down the road.
I waited till he was out of sight, then started back to the Writers’ Building. I hadn’t gone very far when I saw some trailers lined up behind the Muffy ’n Me soundstage. As I got closer I could see these were the actors’ trailers, their names printed on the doors.
I couldn’t help noticing that Vanessa’s trailer was right next to Quinn’s. If they were going to have sex, I wondered, why couldn’t they just stay in their trailers? Why did they have to risk exposure by doing it on the soundstage? Clearly, they must have been turned on by the thrill of making love in a public place.
Suddenly I heard a woman’s voice coming from Quinn’s trailer.
“How could you, Quinn? I thought we meant something to each other.”
It sounded like Audrey, but I couldn’t be sure.
And then I did something foolish, almost as foolish as making love in a public place. I tiptoed up the steps of the trailer and listened at the door.
“Lighten up, Audrey,” Quinn was saying. “You know as well as I do that our affair wasn’t going anywhere. You’re a married woman, and I’m a married man. What did you think—that I was going to leave my wife and run off with you?”
Audrey’s voice was thick with emotion when she said, “Yes, Quinn, I did.”
Quinn laughed.
“And wind up a lapdog like Stan? Forget it, sweetie. Besides, you’re not really my type. I like ’em younger and wilder.”
Although I couldn’t see Audrey, I could picture her, her thin lips clamped shut, her blue eyes icy with rage.
“You’re off the show, Quinn. You’re history. I’m going to have you fired.”
“Oh, really?” Quinn said. “Just try. The network loves me. They’ll never let me go.”
“I’ll get you off this show,” Audrey hissed, “if it’s the last thing I do.”
And then I heard her coming toward the door. I leaped off the steps and ducked around the side of the trailer just as the door flew open. I crouched down, praying Audrey wouldn’t see me as she passed by. My heart pounding, I squeezed my eyes shut, too terrified to face her if she should discover me. I stayed that way for a minute or two. When I finally forced myself to open my eyes, Audrey
“Hey, little fella,” I said. “Want to trade lunches?”
The squirrel froze in his tracks and stood perfectly still, hoping that he and his bagel would blend in with the scenery.
“You give me your bagel,” I said, “and I’ll give you this lovely brown sandwich.”
With that, he blinked twice and shot up the drain-pipe. Obviously this was a squirrel with a discerning palate.
“Hey, you!”
I looked up and saw a security guard out in the roadway, perched on a golf cart, the main means of transportation on most studio lots. He was a beefy guy who looked like he was poured into his uniform and forgot to say “when.” One deep breath, and the buttons on his shirt were history.
“No sitting on studio sets!” he shouted.
I picked up my sandwiches and got down off the porch.
“You’re not supposed to leave the tour,” he said as I approached the cart.
“I’m not a tourist,” I bristled. “I’m a writer.”
“Yeah?” His eyes squinted in disbelief. “What show?”
“Muffy ’n Me .”
“Oh.” He grinned. “You mean Blazing Mattresses . That’s what we call it down at the guard house.”
Apparently news of the Vanessa/Quinn boinkfest had reached the security department.
“I heard they had to send the bedspread out to be cleaned.”
“I’d better get back to the office,” I said, afraid that any minute now one of his shirt buttons would pop off and poke my eye out.
“Need a ride?” He patted the seat next to him and shot me a lascivious grin, no doubt hoping that all the women on the Muffy set were as promiscuous as its star.
“No, thanks. I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, and took off down the road.
I waited till he was out of sight, then started back to the Writers’ Building. I hadn’t gone very far when I saw some trailers lined up behind the Muffy ’n Me soundstage. As I got closer I could see these were the actors’ trailers, their names printed on the doors.
I couldn’t help noticing that Vanessa’s trailer was right next to Quinn’s. If they were going to have sex, I wondered, why couldn’t they just stay in their trailers? Why did they have to risk exposure by doing it on the soundstage? Clearly, they must have been turned on by the thrill of making love in a public place.
Suddenly I heard a woman’s voice coming from Quinn’s trailer.
“How could you, Quinn? I thought we meant something to each other.”
It sounded like Audrey, but I couldn’t be sure.
And then I did something foolish, almost as foolish as making love in a public place. I tiptoed up the steps of the trailer and listened at the door.
“Lighten up, Audrey,” Quinn was saying. “You know as well as I do that our affair wasn’t going anywhere. You’re a married woman, and I’m a married man. What did you think—that I was going to leave my wife and run off with you?”
Audrey’s voice was thick with emotion when she said, “Yes, Quinn, I did.”
Quinn laughed.
“And wind up a lapdog like Stan? Forget it, sweetie. Besides, you’re not really my type. I like ’em younger and wilder.”
Although I couldn’t see Audrey, I could picture her, her thin lips clamped shut, her blue eyes icy with rage.
“You’re off the show, Quinn. You’re history. I’m going to have you fired.”
“Oh, really?” Quinn said. “Just try. The network loves me. They’ll never let me go.”
“I’ll get you off this show,” Audrey hissed, “if it’s the last thing I do.”
And then I heard her coming toward the door. I leaped off the steps and ducked around the side of the trailer just as the door flew open. I crouched down, praying Audrey wouldn’t see me as she passed by. My heart pounding, I squeezed my eyes shut, too terrified to face her if she should discover me. I stayed that way for a minute or two. When I finally forced myself to open my eyes, Audrey
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