Chapter 11

Harry and his family had come out to LA for the premiere of Frances’s first movie which ended up not a blockbuster despite its price but it got her noticed as more than the latest beautiful ingénue, more her presence than her acting which improved fairly quickly in much better movies where she could be allowed to be more than the damsel in distress. The family had used it as an excuse to do the tourist thing which Harry might have enjoyed more without the family, his sullen bitchy middle sister and his parents’ low boil tensions which, truth be told, he probably added his own heat to. The glitzy premiere was a gas with all the lights and the famous people. But best was when just he and Frances hung out on Venice Beach, checking out low key hipness and crazies and just chatting.

Essentially the lure of Hollywood for Harry was about the job. Plenty of hopeful actors and actresses flowed into Hollywood for the chance to be up on the big screen or maybe even on the small screen which was where his movie would mostly be seen, more than a century of hopefuls with almost always dashed dreams like ocean waves against seawalls. Harry wasn’t one of them. Maybe he should have been thrilled, at least that it would be his story being filmed, even if it was twenty five years of a shit life, but it just wasn’t in him to feel that way, he’d always been low key about his talent. Honestly the best thing was the pay, and maybe the possibility to continue or even increase that pay.

Not that he was mercenary about it or felt it was a con. He felt confident in his talent. Acting and drawing, and to a lesser extent, writing, had been appreciated. He liked being appreciated. It just never was a big deal to him, and in a way it made it all the more effective, not pushing or forcing it, just going with it.

So being in LA was for the work. If it wasn’t necessary, he’d have preferred being with Peg. Chrissy too for that matter. But at least he was greeted with a genuine smile by Sam.

“Need a ride?” he asked Tom.

“Got a rental,” Tom answered.

“Nope. Not in your condition.”

“I’m fine.”

“After half a bottle of bourbon? Not likely.”

“Yes Mom.”

Harry sighed. “Which rental place?”

“Alamo.”

“Get in.”

Tom slid into the back of Sam’s tan Lexus while Harry stashed their bags in the trunk. “Sorry,” he told Sam when he settled into the front seat.

“No problem,” Sam smiled.

“You have the address? Where you’re staying?” Harry asked while Sam programmed in the airport Alamo and drove off.

“Let me check,” Tom said, pulling out his smartphone. “I know where to drive to.”

“Sam’s following and I’m driving.”

“Right. Shit. I’m going to have to call. Hey. Yeah, I’m here. Could you give me your exact address? No, it’s just in case I get forgetful, you know. Right. Thanks. See you soon. He’s texting it,” Sam informed them.

Perhaps being well known had the desk guy at Alamo not suspicious of his condition, but Tom did hide it well, putting on the charm. It might have helped he got one of the most expensive cars on the lot, a Mustang convertible.

Harry eventually figured out the GPS and drove them to the Laurel Canyon address, Sam following. A fat older guy greeted them at the door of an impressive home, Harry recognizing him, despite the fat and age, as a highly successful guitarist, singer, songwriter and coleader of one of the biggest bands in rock history. Though not a fan, Harry thought their songs at least catchy in an earworm sort of way, getting stuck in the mind.

“You guys hungry?” he asked.

“I’m just dropping him off,” Harry said.

“Smoke some bud?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

“Sure. Sure. Anytime.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologized to Sam.

“Was that...?”

“Yeah. Did you want to meet him?”

“I’d rather be with you.”

“Same here.”

They kissed before she drove.

During the drive back into the city, Harry called Peg, Peg putting him on speakerphone to talk to Chrissy too. It was relatively brief, though he did mention her researching her family’s history.

“Your dad ever tell you stories?” he asked.

“Some,” she chuckled.

“I should have asked.”

“I figured you would eventually. You want me to write them down?”

“I’d rather talk to you about them, maybe tomorrow evening?”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll write them down anyway, get my memory flowing.”

“Of course, I just...”

“I miss you too.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow then.”

“Yeah.” The call ended.

“Hungry?” Sam asked.

“I could eat.”

“I’ll get some takeout. Pizza okay?”

“Of course.”

She called a place she’d programmed in and ordered a large deluxe pizza since Harry let her know everything on it was fine. As usual in LA, traffic was a bitch. Conversing helped, mostly about Harry because Sam steered things that way.

“Let’s talk about you,” Harry finally insisted. “I already know about me.”

“My life’s not all that interesting.”

“And mine was boring for twenty-five years.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Your life growing up here.”

“I already told you some.”

“You’ve been here all your life.”

“Tragic isn’t it,” she chuckled. “I know a lot of people talk about back east, like that’s where they’re from, and a lot of people move here and get stuck here, but I guess I grew up with second and even third generation Los Angelinos. Kids whose parents like mine were part of the Hollywood industry. Sort of cuts through the glamor.”

“What I’ve seen of LA, it doesn’t seem all that glamorous.”

“Endless traffic jams like this,” Sam chuckled.

“It’s like a façade from a distance, but up close, just plain buildings.”

“True. Kind of destroys the myth being here. But it’s just home to me.”

“Ever thought about moving?”

“No, because my career is here and I’m good at it. I’ve been places.”

“For location shoots like in Minneapolis.”

“Yep, because I’m good with extras and having them give color.”

“Like where?”

“The Philippines. South Africa. Australia.”

“Anywhere a favorite?”

“New Zealand definitely.”

“What’s it like?”

“Stunning. I thought Hawaii was the ultimate paradise until I went there.”

“I’ve never been to either.”

“Just write a screenplay that takes place there and we can go there for casting.”

They both laughed.

“I heard everyone here writes a screenplay,” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’s yours about?”

She laughed. “You know that old bit about some kids saying let’s put up a show in a barn?”

“Like those Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland movies.”

“Yep. Mine’s less successful than those.”

“So realistic.”

“Kind of a horror musical comedy actually.”

“Like Rocky Horror mixed with one of those Scream movies.”

“Part of the problem being derivative.”

“It doesn’t sound like that. I mean everything is in some ways. But I don’t remember many let’s put up a show horror comedy musicals. It comes from experience, doesn’t it?”

“The high school movies,” Sam agreed.

“That’s good. Show it to me?”

“It probably sucks.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“As long as you’re honest.”

“Promise. But I’ve already got experience fixing scripts.”

“If it’s fixable.”

“But I’m not much for the musical parts.”

“That I’m a bit more confident about.”

“Another side of you!” Harry grinned.

“I started writing angsty poems when I was a teenager. It kind of helped getting me through some shit, being the ugly duckling and all that.”

“Who ended up a swan,” Harry reminded her.

“Maybe not,” Sam chuckled.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Harry insisted.

Sam gave him a sweet smile. “Yeah, so my mom had me get piano lessons, and I ended up okay, but mostly I could pick out a melody pretty quick. I figured out most of them were simple so I came up with my own tunes, and then the writing became suited to that. I’m pretty good at writing rhyming couplets or quatrains. The angsty shit got less shitty if not quite less angsty. Love songs are beyond me.”

“You had a boyfriend for a while.”

“I think it was more practical than a love story, like he’s willing to be with me and isn’t a bad fuck, so ... But I know even love fades, and maybe since it wasn’t as much of a factor it might have had more legs, but even that got old and tired and like how you get when things get old and tired.”

“Enervated.”

“Yeah. Like an irritation you can’t quite scratch away.”

“I’ve never had that. A girlfriend, but cheating and guilt ended that. My next chance ended abruptly when I went to prison.”

“Something about you makes me think it would be different. Not with me of course, since I’m like your accepted fling or something which is weird in itself. Peg knows you’re with me.”

“I told her you’d be picking me up.”

Sam shook her head. “I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“She’s got Chrissy and a version of me.”

Sam laughed. “Like a dildo?”

“That’s what she said,” Harry chuckled. “More for Chrissy I think, because though they’re both bi, Chrissy tends to crave cock.”

“Too much,” Sam blushed.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Maybe I’ll have to shop for one of those too.”

“There’s an old Todd Rundgren song: I Gotta Get You a Woman, but of course it would be a man for you.”

“I’m satisfied for now,” she patted his crotch.

“I plan to call Peg every night.”

“I’m okay with that. Maybe I’ll talk to her too, to thank her.”

“You won’t be jealous?”

“More envious.”

His phone chimed. “Hey big sister.”

“Are you here?” Frances asked. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

“I’m here. I have a place to stay.”

“You sure? I’m staying at one of those overdone movie star mansions. It’s comfortable to say the least and lots of room.”

“You’d like me to stay there?” Harry realized.

“If you don’t mind.”

“I’m good tonight.”

“How about dinner tomorrow. At eight to be safe? I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay. Samantha will come along, the casting director?”

“Fuck Harry, you’re sure making up time.”

“I’m as surprised as you are.”

“You’re like a stallion who just escaped his coral humping every mare you come across.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered.

“It’s not like that. You’re a good looking guy, thankfully in a purely masculine way or I’d have worried for you even more than I already did. I’d let you hump me if you weren’t my brother.”

“Back at you beautiful,” Harry chuckled.

“We’ll talk about you staying with me at least sometimes.”

“Part of staying with Sam is getting a ride. I haven’t gotten my driver’s license yet.”

“I’ve got carte blanche and can get you a driver.”

“Welcome to Hollywood.”

“Yep.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Harry managed to say convincingly.

“It’s okay if you want to stay with her,” Sam said when the call ended. “I have a feeling at least tomorrow I’ll be too sore.”

“You sure?”

“About being too sore? I hope so,” Sam giggled.

“You know what I mean.”

“I have no illusions, Harry.”

“There are no illusions Sam. I genuinely like you.”

“Let’s play it as it comes.”

“I plan lots of cums for you.”

“I predict success in your plan,” she murmured.

And the pizza waited for his plan to come to fruition. She immediately led him to her queen sized bed in her very nice Hollywood apartment. Kneeling beside the bed, she unzipped him and took out his half hard cock. His removing her top clothes briefly paused her enthusiastic head. The rest he removed when he pulled her mouth off him and urged her onto the bed. He removed his clothes and moved between her legs, mouth first. After teasing out a powerful cum, she murmured, “Condom in the bedside table.”

“Still working here.”

“Nope. Please fuck me.”

So he did, managing to hold back just enough for her to cum again first. It didn’t take long.

“A bit quick,” he told her.

“We’re just getting started,” she reminded him.

“True,” he chuckled. He turned them over and finally kissed her.

She broke it. “Food first?”

“Probably a good idea.”

The quickness kept the pizza still warm. She had him open up a nice Italian red wine. She drank a couple glasses to his one, him drinking some bottled iced tea along with it. He’d borrowed a white terry cloth robe stolen from a swanky hotel while she wore a sexy see through robe, opened when she sat straddling his lap, her pulling open his robe as well.

“Where were we,” she purred and kissed him, rubbing her moist pussy lips against his quickly hardening cock. Once fully hard, she lifted and guided him in.

“Condom?” he asked.

“I’m safe,” she declared.

“Oh?”

“Shut up and kiss me!”

So he did, letting her ride him. Eventually, brushing aside any plates or glasses in the way, he lifted her onto the table to give her more friction, ending the kiss and letting him sample her nipples. This time he managed to last despite her tightness, giving her an orgasm soon after putting her on the table and a couple more before joining her on her last one.

She stayed on the table when his penis became flaccid and slipped out, reaching back to grab her glass. “Pour me more,” she pouted seeing it empty.

“As you wish milady,” he answered with a bow.

“Shut up,” she giggled.

Using her elbow to prop her head up, she drank most of what he poured.

“Take me to bed, kind sir,” she requested.

When he was about to lift her, she said, “Your hand will suffice. I know you’re strong, but...”

Nodding, he guided her off the table. They dropped their robes beside the bed. “Lie back,” she told him, and proceeded to suck him back to full erection. She lay supine beside him and he moved his thighs between hers, letting her guide him back in. It was more lovemaking this time, kisses interspersed with gazes for several minutes, an imperceptible slow build for both of them, until her hands on his butt and squeezes of her legs over his urged more speed. He guided those legs high, framing her big boned torso, his arms holding them there while his fingers carefully abused her nipples.

“Yes!” she moaned. “Fuck!” “Harry!” repeating variations of those words with each of his thrusts. “Aah!” she finally let loose loudest, while experiencing what looked like her largest orgasm of the night.

Harry plowed through it, sustaining it and bringing forth his own, eyes closed, letting the sensations of her still tight and now lively cunt pull forth his ejaculate, emerging just as hers abated, though the hot sensation inside her of him spurting gave her a last shiver.

“Mmm,” she murmured, pulling his mouth to hers. “Plan delivered.”

“My pleasure,” he grinned, giving her another soft kiss.

She moved from beneath him. “Excuse me.”

“As you wish.”

Another giggle emerged while she rolled off the bed. He watched her naked ass sway away. With a pleasant sigh, he moved the sheet and cover over him and soon fell asleep.

“Wake up, Harry,” he heard, his eyes opening seeing Sam in a skirt and blouse. “Time for the three S’s and a quick breakfast.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Harry grinned tiredly.

“I put your kit in the bathroom.”

“Thanks.”

After his ablutions and dressing, he sat at the kitchen table, a McMuffin awaiting him. “Sorry, I don’t cook much,” she said. “I have a delivery service for my diet, which I set aside in your honor.”

“The food that bad?” he asked.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“You’ve been out already?”

“I get up early. There’s a gym in the basement where I work out most mornings.”

“I wouldn’t mind joining you.”

“Sure. That’d be nice. Your stuff is still packed.”

“Dinner’s not until eight,” he reminded her.

“I’m sore as planned,” she pouted. “Maybe some shopping? You don’t seem to have brought much clothes.”

“Because I don’t have much clothes,” he chuckled.

“Let’s take care of that. You could keep your stuff here and get what you need when you’re staying with Frances.”

Harry chuckled.

“What?” Sam asked.

“It probably makes me sound like a cad, but it’s like I’m gathering my wardrobe for each bedroom. I just bought some clothes for when I’m staying at Peg’s place.”

“It’s because you are a cad. I found a napkin with some girl’s name and number.”

“Sorry.”

“I like you and you’re a great fuck. You going to tell Peg like you did with me?”

“If it happens, yes.”

“Who is she? Never mind.”

“A stewardess.”

“Classic,” she laughed. “Men.”

“Honestly it befuddles me.”

“Why?”

“I’m way past forty.”

“You look younger.”

“Not when I look in the mirror.”

“What you see is experience, and that’s attractive too. Not some bumbling kid or an arrogant asshole with no substance. You got grit.”

“Grit is hot?” he chuckled.

“Apparently. And what you don’t have is slack, like the way a guy lets himself go at middle age. That’s what makes you look younger. By the way I put the napkin in your wallet.”

“Thanks?”

“Promise to tell Peg.”

“I promise.”

“You guys have a weird relationship, but who am I to complain?”

“I guess not.”

“We should go.”

He swallowed down his sandwich and rushed out behind Sam.

The studio lot they drove to was only a few blocks away, walking distance, though few walked in LA, and the buildings and the people looked rundown the closer they got. But she drove into an actual working lot, with a guard checking them out before gaining entrance.

“Who owns it?” Harry asked.

“Mostly Showtime, though it used to be Warner’s.”

“Appropriate.”

“Grit,” Sam agreed. “The production company which enabled us to shoot here was on the fence until Pat showed them the new script and the videos of you and Frances.”

“And that’s what hurried things?”

“A little less on the cheap but still with tight strings. A bigger stage but with more time restrictions. And Jonas getting a better paying job in a couple months. Essentially the sweet spot is now.”

“Jonas going to make it to the location shoot?”

“He wants to, so he’ll be there as much as possible. Let’s go in.”

They entered a vast space. Pat, standing on the opposite side in the front of the space waved them over. Beside her stood a big guy about Harry’s age wearing denim from head to foot. They were looking at a wide screen monitor, the big guy taking notes.

“Harry, this is Joe, the set designer.”

“And builder,” Joe grinned, his voice appropriately deep. “I like getting my hands dirty.”

They shook hands, Joe pressing but not uncomfortably.

“You look more like a builder,” Harry said.

“Because I was, but too many designers’ ideas to which I’d politely correct, I decided to get my architect degree.”

“He’s the best,” said Pat.

“And the fastest,” Joe added.

“That too,” Pat chuckled. “Sam, show Harry to the makeup room to meet his younger selves.”

“They’re all here?” Sam asked.

“Two of them. The other’s still not late. I’ll be in in a bit.”

“Pat’s a stickler for being on time,” Sam whispered while they headed to a door.

“No problem,” vowed Harry.

The two doppelgangers of a young Harry stood tall when they stood per Sam’s order. One had an inch over Harry and was skinny and lanky with a mischievous, confident air, like he was getting away with something, while the other, shorter by a couple inches presented a shyer presence, what looked like a well-made body and almost a pretty face. “I’m sorry,” he said to the latter, “but you’d have been someone’s butt boy.”

“Understood,” the young man said sadly, and even with that word Harry heard feyness, lifting his hand for Harry to shake. “I’ll let Pat know,” he told Sam. For a moment Harry thought of the gay man who ended up dying of AIDS, but realized it was better suited to a smaller man.

“Sit,” Harry gestured to the taller man. Harry sat next to him, facing him. Sam sat a foot or so away between them. “I’m Harry.”

“Pete,” said the man. “This shit really about you?”

“Basically. You been inside?”

“Juvenile detention.”

“For what?”

“A joyride.”

“You fit?”

Pete chuckled. “It was my uncle’s Fifty Seven Chevy. He’s almost as tall as me and an asshole.”

“I’d be too if my nephew stole a sweet ride like that.”

“He was before that. He pressed charges and my dad wanted me to have the lesson. I think my mom talked them into arranging a different punishment after a month or so.”

“Which was?”

“Picking up garbage and then giving my uncle custody. He had me hauling shit around, owns a scrap yard.”

“He still give you shit?”

“Of course. I just made the mistake once of giving shit back. Punched me so I couldn’t breathe.”

“Sounds like a charmer.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s with the acting thing?”

“I’ve always been good at bullshit.”

“I don’t believe you. You look like someone trying to get away with something.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter?”

“I’m not but I’ve met plenty who were.”

“I can look serious.”

“Show me.”

Pete’s face shifted. He teared up and even sniffled. “I told you I weren’t around. I’d never do something like that, honest.”

Harry nodded. “It’s not just being a bullshitter.”

“I’ve been acting since High School. Did Lenny in Mice and Men. Smaller roles usually for being tall.”

“I’m familiar,” Harry nodded.

“I did Abe Lincoln for my drama school audition and got in.”

“Still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Learning things?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. So what do you want to know?”

“I mean what were you like before you got caught?”

“Good question. Not a tough guy like you.”

“No?”

“No. A suburban kid believe it or not. My dad’s a surgeon.”

“No shit?”

“No shit, and all the arrogance you hear about. Actually he used to be. Got a bit old and unsteady and moved to hospital administration. Now he cuts costs instead of cutting flesh.”

“Not fond of the guy?”

“Not even a little.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah.”

“That why you did what you did?”

“A fuck you to the old man? Maybe. Mostly I got caught up with a psychotic, riding on the wild side. Pure adrenalin. I met him buying cocaine for my high school buddies. There was this intensity to him compared to my staid suburban friends, like the underbelly of the city personified or something. He also had the hottest chick with him,” Harry laughed. “I asked if she had a sister, which I think helped catch his interest. Next thing I know I’m driving them in my sister’s hand me down Honda to this basement, supposedly a rehearsal space for this punk band, but mostly that was an excuse for some exchanges of illegal substances that must have attracted all the hot bad girls in the city. I ended up bringing one back to his fucked up place, fucking her on his fucked up sofa while he was with another girl!”

“I hoped you had condoms.”

“I stopped for them. That pretty much spelled the end of my innocence. Ended my relationship with my long time girlfriend. First time I cheated on her, and I knew it wasn’t the last. Actually one of those girls ended up being my girlfriend, wanted some loving unlike the wham bam he gave her. She was kind of like me, going to the dark side from some privilege. College girl. Really smart.”

“So the bank robbery?”

“He had some plans: home invasion. I talked him out of it. I thought he’d be too In Cold Blood about it.”

“Explain that.”

“Truman Capote? It’s this true story novel about these guys that ended up killing a family during a home invasion and got electrocuted for it. Capote wanted to know why. It’s great stuff. You should at least check out the movie. I thought a bank robbery would be safer,” Harry laughed bitterly. “Turns out he still got to kill someone.”

“You never told on him?”

“I just felt that I was responsible. I probably should have. Who the fuck knows what he did after.”

“You thought you did the right thing?”

“Besides being involved in that shit? I did.”

“So you’d say you were a normal high school kid before that?”

“I’d never be accused of being normal.”

“What made you abnormal?”

“Indifference I think. I just didn’t give a shit. I guess I did with my girlfriend and to some extent with my high school buddies, and my sister and I have always been close, but as far as school goes ... I’d do enough to pass. That’s why I think I was a good actor.”

“How’s that?”

“No nerves. I didn’t give a shit about an audience or worry about fucking up, so I didn’t.”

“What about reacting?”

“Oh I was there with my partner in character. I may have been indifferent but I could still be responsive to others, just...”

“In a cool way.”

“Yeah.”

“So Rancid is a cool dude,” Pete grinned.

Harry shrugged.

“So...” Sam interrupted. “I think the next guy is here.”

“Pete’ll do,” Harry said. “I presume he passed the audition to get here.”

“He did.”

“Am I...?”

“No Harry. You’re right.”

“Sorry.”

“To tell you the truth, the guy was the closest match, but didn’t have the chops. I can see Pete filled in a bit would be you.”

“None of that mischievous smirk, Pete,” Harry warned.

“I’ll be cool,” Pete laughed.

Harry joined him.

“Thanks man,” Pete stood, his long arms spread. Harry took the invitation and hugged.

“You’re not gay are you?” Harry whispered mid embrace.

“Bi. You?”

“Strictly hetero.”

“Too bad.” Pete pinched Harry’s butt.

Harry just laughed before separating.

“Definitely cool,” Pete remarked.

Sam had left the room already by the time they did. Harry watched his third young doppelganger walk away, turning back for a moment before continuing out. It was like looking at an old picture, Harry thought.

“Second thoughts?” Sam asked.

“Too handsome to be me,” Harry smiled.

“He could have been your twin,” Sam shook her head. “Frances sent pictures.”

“Pete’s good,” Harry said.

“Very,” Sam agreed.

Pete chatted with Pat for a bit before leaving with a grin and a wave. Joe was busy with a measuring tool and chalk marking up the stage.

“What’s next?” Harry asked.

“Some signatures and a couple checks,” Pat answered.

“So my autograph is already worth something.”

“Funny,” Pat smirked. “The first one’s so that my wife represents you.”

“Like an agent?”

“That’s what she does. She’s already negotiated you into SAG and the screenwriters’ guild.”

“Isn’t that cross purposes?”

“She’s waving her percentage because of that. I may be biased, but she’s good.”

“She doesn’t deal with book publishing?” Harry asked.

“It’s all too specialized for that, though she does work with screenwriters. Maybe she could steer you to someone. What have you got? Never mind.”

“I can talk and sign at the same time,” Harry said, illustrating the fact.

“You’re not going to read them?”

“I trust you even if I’m not supposed to supposedly.”

“You’re right, but I appreciate it. This is for your membership in SAG. We deducted the dues on the first check, but you’ll be getting the bill after that.”

He signed.

“Same for the screenwriters.”

He signed. “Check?”

“Got some money for your rewrite.”

“Cool.”

“This is for your contract with us for your acting. Honestly it’s what we can afford plus a point.”

“One percent?”

“Problem?”

“With my agent being my producer, in this instance, yes. What’s Tom getting?”

Pat hesitated. “Five?”

“Maybe six for me, but I suppose I’ll take five.”

“Let me call Linda.”

While they talked, Harry read slowly through the legalize of the contract. Essentially he was fine with it. The pay was quite generous compared to most working sods, even if he knew stars demanded ten times what he’d get. The points were more about him generating the idea and fine tuning it. He doubted it would make much profit if any.

“Three is as high as we can go,” Pat told him.

“That’s fine,” he reluctantly agreed. Honestly he’d have gone with two, but would never tell her that.

She made the changes and initialed them and he signed.

“This is for expenses up to a limit,” Pat continued.

“Expenses?”

“Travel, cars, housing.”

“Just travel for me,” he told her. “And though I appreciate it, first class isn’t necessary.”

“It’s a thing,” Pat shrugged. “And with your long legs...”

“True. Just thinking of my points.”