Chapter 15

Pat’s house wasn’t what Harry expected. It didn’t hang precariously from the edge, instead sat on the border of Malibu proper, and though on the large side, it only had two bedrooms, one of which was being used as a study, the rest giving space for entertaining, including an extended patio/porch. He found her and Sam in the basement, Pat’s workspace, with a projection room and, where she and Sam sat, a video viewing room.

“You’re here!” Pat grinned.

Sam barely smiled, but she was in serious mode after all.

He sat in the remaining chair, gestured to by Pat.

“We sent invites to the party for those we chose,” Pat explained. “RSVP meaning accepting the role as much as accepting the invite. If they can’t come, they can still accept. Sam, put up the ones we’re still indecisive about.”

Sam referred to a sheet coded by time stamps Harry figured. Harry tended to choose Sam’s choice which pleased Sam if not Pat.

“Finally,” Pat muttered when he obviously chose her choice.

“You’ll have to give me a hint if you’d rather I chose yours,” Harry offered.

Pat laughed. “There’s a reason I chose Sam as my casting director. She’s the best.”

That brought about Sam’s biggest grin by far, which, though not saying much, was a fairly large grin.

They continued into unknown territory, still working through those who’d interact with Pete. Instant tie breaker, Harry continued tending towards Sam’s choice. Occasionally it was the two women who agreed and Harry didn’t. One of those times, Sam stopped before moving on. “Why him rather than our choice?” she asked.

“I thought the scheme was at least two agreeing and moving on.”

“I’m curious.”

“Go back to my choice.”

“Number two, right?” Pat asked.

They’d coded things, writing numbers for each actor, making notes if necessary beside the number and hiding their choice to keep from biasing the others.

“I think he’s less comfortable giving cold readings, dyslexia maybe. But look at his reaction to Pete, and Pete’s reaction to him despite his fumbling.”

“I see it!” Sam responded.

“Him then,” Pat agreed, looking up his information and sending him the invite.

“Why’d you go back to my choice?” Harry asked Sam.

“Instinct I guess,” Sam shrugged. “I think I saw what you saw, my gut said yes, but the stumbling...”

“Makes sense.”

“The gut is good,” said Pat and they laughed.

They did something similar another time.

“No, you’re right,” said Harry. “I think my guy just looked like the guy I knew.”

That was the last before they moved on to Harry’s interactors.

“What you just said,” Pat started, “would that be part of your choice, that they looked like the guy?”

“In Joseph’s and Merc’s case, they are the guys,” Harry chuckled. Getting serious, he added, “No actually.”

“Explain.”

“Rancid’s not me. I’ll be him, but he’s not me.”

“How is he different?”

“For one, he’s named Rancid.” The ladies laughed. “No seriously, he’s this punk kid, angry but not all that tough inside. Prison makes him tough and he subsumes his anger. That’s Pete, but it’ll be me as well, my backstory if you will.”

“And how is this different than you?”

“I was angry, mostly from having a prick as a father. But I was never so outwardly rebellious. I was scared of course, not as scared as Rancid, but I could put up a tough front, kind of getting into the role of prisoner. It’s like I accepted the role of a lifetime, literally. I kept my fear private and that privacy got scarred over, though it remained. I couldn’t trust anyone with it except one.”

“Your cellmate?”

“Definitely not. Too much intimacy is a risk. Tom got that right when Rancid got chummy with his cellmate and the guy threatens to kill him, thinking him a faggot until Rancid gives him the photograph of his hot ex girlfriend. Tom really got that risk, and I asked him how he figured that out, and he told me Frances asked you about my cellmates and why I never drew them and I explained about the threat of intimacy. I actually had the opposite problem, a new gay roommate who I got rid of.”

“Got rid of?” Sam asked.

“Not like that. I told the warden I caught the guy beating off in my face.”

“Did he?”

“No, but I could tell he wanted to. I could tell he wanted me. I got nothing against gays, unlike most of the inmates, and a few of them changing their minds because of convenience, but sharing my cell with one definitely didn’t work. I mean it would be possible I guess if he respected me being heterosexual, but my sense was he’d prefer if he didn’t have to.”

“So who was your confessor?” Pat asked.

“Joseph,” Harry chuckled. “Like talking to a wall, but really a wall with feelings and he’d tell me about his parents and his kids.”

“I don’t remember what Joseph did to be in prison. Assault wasn’t it?”

“Nearly beat his wife’s lover to death thinking the guy was raping her, not knowing it was just another quickie for them. Her bawling wasn’t over being raped but over her lover as Joseph found out when she started trying to pull him away and then embraced her lover, demanding Joseph call an ambulance. Of course the guy was some mucky-muck. Joseph and I shared that luck, bad choice of victims.”

“The wife?”

“Essentially disowned by her in-laws and apparently his daughter had figured out the affair and wanted nothing to with her either. Clever girl apparently.”

“The mucky muck married?”

“Of course. Small town, the wife had to leave. Supposedly a good looking woman, Joseph figured she’d latch onto some poor sod soon enough.”

“How about we get back to work,” Sam suggested. Everyone seemed to check the time and agreed.

Things went quick after that. Just as he’d done with Pete, Harry chose quickly and decisively those who he had rapport with, with the caveat of seeing if the camera agreed, that mysterious chemistry. It didn’t always, which Sam would point out because Harry seeing himself there couldn’t see that. Almost all ended up second choice anyway, and if further down he’d debate it, and even a couple times he won. Fuck chemistry.

Everyone could see he had chemistry with his final audition partner, that hot semi-movie star Latina.

“Does she even want to do it?” Harry asked.

“She liked working with you,” Pat smiled. “And it’ll just be one day shooting.”

“Too bad. I mean just the one day.”

The ladies laughed, though Sam punched him in the shoulder.

Aside from the Latina, he was most pleased that they agreed with his choice of the plainer woman who had turned him on during her audition, becoming the whore and receiver of the narrative of the film after, of course, pretending to receive his cock. The thought of actually fucking her, method acting and all that, got him semi hard.

“So,” Pat sighed after sending the Latina her invite, “I could use a drink.” She pulled out a bottle of fine tequila and a couple glasses from a desk drawer reminding Harry of the cliché of the detective sneaking a drink. “Only two,” she stated apologetically.

“Harry and I can share,” said Sam.

“I figured,” Pat smirked. “Skol!”

“Cheers!” Sam exclaimed.

“Mud in your eye,” Harry offered.

They paused. “I couldn’t think of the Mexican cheers,” he shrugged.

“Salud,” said Pat.

“Salud,” said the others, then the ladies drank down the burning yet tasty booze, Harry pouring a shot or so full and drinking his.

“Okay,” Pat began. “We’re moving the time table up again. Joe said he’d have the prostitute’s bedroom done by Wednesday.”

“Uhm,” Harry interrupted. “Maybe I could have Peg send down her nudes since they’re similar looking.” “And herself,” Harry thought. “Help the actress get into character.” He’d have to ask Peg so he decided not to mention it.

“I noticed,” Pat grinned. “That’d be great. I thought that’d be perfect since everything hangs from that encounter.”

“You’re the boss,” Harry nodded.

“We’ll get her up to Stillwater for the bar scene when we shoot locations up there.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve chosen a bartender?” Harry asked.

“A bit early.”

“True. Sorry. What about rehearsal?”

“I like things spontaneous while sticking to the script which was why I was attracted to Tom’s script because I knew the language would be there, surprising me when yours improved on it.”

“Thanks. So no rehearsal?”

“Minimal I guess. First takes are often best. But I expect the script to be memorized.”

“So reading lines?”

“If it makes it more comfortable. And speaking of reading, there’ll be a read through on Tuesday, what time depends on availability. Probably early afternoon. It’ll be here.”

“What about the actors you’re only shooting on location?”

“If they have significant roles we’re flying them in.”

“No shit?” Harry laughed.

“Not even a little one.”

“So Merc and Joseph?”

“Linda called Thursday and Friday. It’s possible they’ll be here tonight.”

“Holy shit,” Harry laughed again.

When they headed upstairs, Harry saw that the setting up for the party was in full swing. It didn’t surprise him that the caterers were all female or that the several little samplings of food were delicious. He saw the long table in which the samplings rested and figured it would probably serve for the reading. Linda barely acknowledged him except to ask if Chrissy had joined him in LA.

“Unfortunately not,” he told her.

“Probably for the best,” she decided.

He thought about talking to her as agent and client, but decided she was too busy. Best at her office in a more appropriate setting.

It did remind him to call Peg, so he stepped out onto the patio.

“Hey,” she said. “You at Pat’s?”

“Yep. All cast. The party should be starting pretty soon.”

“Sounds good,” she said unconvincingly.

“Think you could come here?”

“Really?”

“I know it’s easier on the weekend, but I was hoping Monday night or Tuesday morning. There’s a table reading Tuesday afternoon, so it’d have to be an early flight.”

“I’ll talk to Dennis and Julia. I can cover it.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“That’s great!”

“Is there a reason, not that I care.”

“I wanted you to meet the woman playing Maggie, or you basically.”

“What’s she like?”

“She reminds me of you.”

Peg laughed. “She turn you on during auditions?”

“Yep. Oh, and bring the nude drawings.”

“The old ones or...”

“Yeah the old ones. I’ll be drawing the new ones, so they’d need to be different.”

“Makes sense. What about you needing time?”

“How about we worry about that after we make up for lost time?”

“I’m serious, Harry. I’ll bring Chrissy along. She’s good at distracting. We can go be tourists. I’ve never been to LA.”

“You should talk to Melly.”

“The driver?”

“She’s pretty much free during the day, although I’ll be working then, and I’d like it if you were on set to watch.”

“I thought Chrissy was the exhibitionist,” Peg quipped. “We’ll figure it out. So you’ll be returning by Memorial Day weekend.”

“Yep.”

“I think I’ll return Saturday so I can pick up the Sunday shift.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve got money. The bar’s low overhead, I own the building which includes my apartment, and I’m sure the bartenders will complain how little I pay them, but they make it up with tips. And with Belle, all the fixing and shoring up expenses just got paid.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckled.

“Maybe we’ll come in on Tuesday. This table reading, it sounds like not something for public consumption. We can fly in, get a room, rent a car and come meet you and this version of me somewhere when you’re done.”

“But ... Okay. I’d say just book a room for the night, but...”

“I’m not Frances’s sister.”

“You soon will be. Maybe we can get hitched in Vegas.”

“With an Elvis?” Peg laughed.

“Speaking of Elvis, Merc’s in town.”

“There?”

“Supposedly he’s showing up at this party.”

“Maybe Elvis Junior came with him.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“I bet Elvis Junior would get a kick out of being witness at an Elvis wedding.”

“Or be annoyed.”

“Probably. You should invite Merc to the wedding.”

“And Joseph, he’s coming too. Saturday?”

“I’ll check into booking it.”

“Thanks Peg.”

They laughed.

“See you soon Big Guy, in the flesh this time.”

“Looking forward to it is a major understatement.” They hung up.

“You look happy,” Sam commented.

“Because I am,” said Harry. “Me and Peg are getting hitched next Saturday.”

“She’s coming here?” Sam asked.

“Come here,” said Harry, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. “Be happy for me, okay?”

“She’s buying. I’m just renting.”

“We got to get you a man.”

She broke the embrace and smiled up at him. “I listened to that song. It’s kind of cool.”

“I like it. Runt’s a great album.”

“Pete’s here.”

“The party officially begins,” Harry smirked.

They entered the house. “Hey,” Pete greeted Harry.

“You recovered?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Pete smiled his mischievous smile. “Pretty relentless.”

“Casting’s done.”

“Cool.”

“Let’s get you fed and drunk.”

“Don’t tempt me man.”

“Sorry. You on the wagon, or...”

“Not like that. Just ... moderation’s best I guess.”

“So says Aristotle,” Harry quipped. “So ... soda?”

“A beer sounds good.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They grabbed one each and piled hors d’oeuvres on a plate and sat. People trickled in, some Harry had met directly and some on video. Some brought significant others and some came solo. All seemed to swing by where Harry and Pete sat. Most commented on the same day invitation, which Harry replied with variations of the film being on a fast track.

One slender and short man arrived solo and Pete ended up going off with him. Merc arrived at the same time and plopped down on the vacant seat.

“I heard you were coming,” said Harry.

“First class and a sweet suite shared with Joseph.”

“He here?”

“Taking an observational position.”

They chuckled.

“Want to smoke?”

“You brought some?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Got some friends here. Swung by before we arrived. Want to find out if the shit’s any good?”

“Maybe on the patio?”

“Cool.”

“Let me ask Pete if he wants to join us.”

“The young you?”

“Figured it out?”

“Not too hard.”

“I suppose not.”

Pete and his new friend Jerry did want to join them, Jerry dwarfed by the rest of them.

“You’re one big dude,” Jerry commented.

“Merc,” Merc said, his big hand engulfing Jerry’s much smaller one.

“Jerry.”

“Pete.” Pete shook Merc’s hand too, much more of a match except slimmer.

Merc lit up a fat joint and passed it behind him to Joseph who’d silently joined them.

At the tail end of the potent joint, Sam came up to them.

“You’re much prettier when you’re not all serious,” Joseph commented quietly.

“Thanks,” Sam giggled. She waved off the near roach. “Uhm, everyone’s here who we think will show up.” She gave Harry a hard gaze, “Including an unexpected guest.”

Harry shrugged.

“Anyway, Pat wants everyone in the living room,” Sam finished. She stopped Harry. “Thanks I think. I’m going to fetch my guitar.”

“Atta girl,” Harry grinned. He headed in while she took some stairs down to where her car was.

Pat stood amidst the crowd, a small table beside her piled with scripts.

“I’m glad you’re all here on such short notice. It shows you’re as excited about this film as I am. It also shows we’re in a bit of a rush, which I think is a good thing, not waiting forever for your call. I tend towards efficient instead of shooting lots of coverage just in case, because there won’t be just in case. That’s because I’ve got the best people doing the best work possible.”

She introduced Jonas and Joe and Joan, the head of make-up and Mary, costumes. “I want you all to meet with Mary to schedule measurements,” she added.

“And speaking of rushing, as you know since I asked you about your free time, we’re having a table reading here. The earliest everyone can be here is six pm on Tuesday. Please be early if you can. I got a thing about being on time, but I think that should be part of an actor’s task, something learned from theater and film as well, time is money especially in film. Just letting you know ahead of time I’ll be pissed if you’re late.

“Okay. I’d hoped to have call sheets by now, but things have shuffled sooner than I expected. I’ll have them out to you as soon as possible, or Monica my assistant will.” Monica waved her hand. “Let her know if there’s any problems, but I really hope there isn’t any. Part of what you filled out at auditions was marking any problems with availability. I’m hoping you were honest about it, because I’m essentially expecting you’ll be available when you said. Emergencies only people.

“Enough bitch. Make sure you bring the script with you when you leave. Now for your entertainment, Samantha Jennings.”

The caterers brought out three chairs where Pat had been, and a very nervous looking Sam came out followed by Walter and, surprising to Harry, Marisol.

“We’re going to do one of my songs first,” Walter announced, settling into his chair between Sam and Marisol. He nodded to Marisol and she began playing her Spanish guitar, picking notes and strumming. Minutes later, a melody became familiar, one of Walter hits, and Walter and Sam joined in, harmonizing behind Walter.

After full applause, Sam spoke. “This is completely impromptu. Walter and I have only worked once on these songs, so bear with us.” She began playing the first song Walter had involved himself in. He found his way in, as did Marisol.

“One more time?” he asked Sam once they finished.

“Okay.”

Both were present accompanying her the second time.

The same thing happened for the second song they’d worked on.

“I’ll let you take over,” Walter said after modest applause.

“Thanks,” Sam smiled.

Surprisingly Marisol remained. She seemed deft at finding the melody and chord progressions.

After three more songs, each receiving generous applause, she ended her little concert.

Marisol remained. “Go have fun,” she insisted when everyone continued watching in near silence. She tuned and resumed playing, becoming background for the party.

Sam came up to Harry and he pulled her into a hug. “Maybe some rehearsal,” she murmured in his embrace.

“Walter’s interested,” he told her. “I bought stuff to record you, but I bet he’s got better equipment.”

“I happen to like your equipment,” she giggled, taking his hand and leading him out of the living room. On the edge, Merc, remaining with Pete and Jerry, handed off a joint to Harry. Harry quickly looked around and found Joseph chatting up the Maggie/Peg substitute whom Harry had greeted at her arrival, but hadn’t had a chance to talk to.

“Give me a minute,” he said to Sam.

“Okay,” she smiled.

He headed to his ex-con friend and the Peg impersonator.

“Jeanne,” he addressed her, catching her mid laugh.

“Oh hi Harry. You met Joseph?”

“We’re old friends actually. Do you have any plans after the table read?”

“Free as a bird!” she giggled, obviously having had a fair amount of alcohol.

“Great. See you then.”

“Going?”

“Not exactly. Just don’t make any plans.”

“Promise.”

He stepped over to Joseph. “I take it you’re riding with Merc?”

“He brought Ellie,” Joseph said.

“Maybe give her a ride?”

“That’s the plan,” Joseph subtly smirked. Noticing Harry’s disappointed reaction, he added, “She’s a big girl.”

“Whom I like.”

“I’ll cut her off.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey Jeanne,” Joseph said, “Let’s get some food.”

“Okay,” she giggled.

Harry headed to an impatient Sam who dragged him through the door to the basement stairs, eventually leading him to a made-up futon passed where’d they’d been working. Tossing aside the quilt and top sheet, she sat and undid his pants, swallowing his not even half hard penis.

Once she got him hard, he stopped her and stripped. Cued in, she did the same and lay back. Harry headed, mouth first, to her pussy, finding it only marginally moist and fixing that through one orgasm and towards another.

“Harry,” she murmured, and he shifted atop her letting her guide his cock in, and once his glans entered her, they kissed, continuing to kiss while he slowly fucked her, and even with that pace she pulled back from his lips and released a keening cry of release, Harry pushing his cock deep to enjoy the intricate pulsations her orgasmic pussy created. He returned to thrusting into her midway through her climax, at a somewhat faster speed, extending it, and continued increasing speed until her thrusting back stilled, and with a last series of even faster thrusts he joined her in ecstasy.

They rested, Harry rolling them over, his penis slipping out. “Want to get high?” he asked.

“Yes please.”

They sat up side by side, Harry reaching down to grab his sports jacket where he’d stashed Merc’s joint, and his pants where his boy scout lighter, always be prepared, waited in his left front pocket under his phone. They smoked, got very high, and made love some more, sixty-nine despite his earlier deposit, and then her riding him for a long time, ending, after her orgasm, with him plowing her from behind, a third orgasm of hers meeting his.

“Hungry?” he asked, his body collapsed over hers.

“Munchies,” she murmured, a weak giggle.

They dressed and headed upstairs to a quiet house, Mary sitting alone at the kitchen table, reading a tablet wearing glasses and sipping tea.

“A message,” she said, sliding a folded sheet to Harry.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“Still wired. Pat passed out immediately. There’s Sleepytime tea if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll make some,” Sam said, pulling a plastic covered cheese board from the fridge and added crackers and a cheese knife.

Harry read the note. “Looked for you. Found you. Decided not to interrupt. Marisol.” A cartoon image of a cat face, big eyes, wearing a tiara was drawn beside her name.

Harry thought he had heard something.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“Marisol. Apparently she’s got cat feet.”

“I thought I heard something,” Sam said.

After Mary left a couple minutes later, they sat quietly sipping tea and alleviating their munchies. “What do you want to do?” Sam finally asked.

“What do you want me to do?”

“The bed’s not that big and I’m pretty beat.”

“Then I’ll go. Did you get Walter’s number?”

“I did.”

“Call him.”

“I am between jobs,” she smiled.

“Got anything lined up?”

“Not until June. You going to be at Walter’s?”

“Probably until Tuesday. After that I’m not sure.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Hacienda’s closer to the studio.”

“So’s my apartment. Sorry.”

“Peg’s heading back Saturday.”

“Not much of a honeymoon.”

“Meeting her’s been our honeymoon. And we’ll have lots of time after Memorial Day.”

When Harry returned to the cabin, he felt absurdly disappointed that Marisol wasn’t warming his bed, since it was well past when she would have visited, and the absurdity continued when he wasn’t woken up by a blow job.

He went up to the main building where lunch was being prepared. Dodging Maria, and with her help pointing where things were, he prepared his own coffee and decided on Babaganoush for his brunch.

Marisol appeared just when he needed her to help take things down to the cabin. Once there, after hands emptied, he got a kiss from her. “I suppose you need to get back,” he said.

“Mostly because I’m working with Frances,” she smiled.

“She’s here?”

“In our little sanctuary, this meditation room that Walter made. Mama let me know you had woken up.” Marisol began making the bed.

“She helping you with Maggie the Cat?”

“Among other things, mostly about what acting is and such.”

“Did you...?”

“Visit?” she giggled. “It was late when we got back and late when she woke up. Besides, she’s your sister.”

“I’m okay with it.”

“And then you wouldn’t join in. That was fun.”

“It was,” Harry chuckled. “Speaking of which...”

“I thought about it, but you really were caught up in each other, and there didn’t appear to be much room, and there wouldn’t have been enough time anyway.”

Harry nodded. Marisol gave him a kiss and walked away.

Once more, Harry became caught up in writing, only pausing when his phone chimed for a phone call.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” both his Stillwater ladies replied. “We decided to just call,” Peg added.

“She decided,” Chrissy argued.

“You agreed he’d want to keep working and we’d be seeing him soon,” Peg pointed out.

“Reluctantly.”

“Anyway,” Peg continued, “Everything’s set except the hotel. At first I was just going to get something near the airport, but then I remembered the notorious traffic, and thought maybe somewhere near where you’re working might be better. That’s if you would be staying the night with us.”

“Of course he will,” said Chrissy.

“Of course I will,” Harry agreed.

“I know you want some time to yourself,” Peg reminded him.

“However that works out, I plan on sleeping with you. The area around the studio lot is actually pretty seamy. Hold on a second.”

He went into where the texts were, where he found the addresses of the Hacienda and Sam’s place, writing each down. “Okay,” he asked them, “You can note addresses somehow.”

“Google map,” Chrissy told him.

“I’m going to give you a couple addresses. Anywhere between them would be a better neighborhood.”

Once he did, Peg continued, “So I booked Elvis early Saturday if that’s okay.”

“We can drive to Las Vegas Friday evening,” Harry agreed. “Supposedly it’s not all that far.”

“I kind of figured that. I’m going to drop off the car rental before we go,” Peg said, explaining, “That way Chrissy and I can fly out of Las Vegas early Sunday morning and catch the flight home from LAX, giving us more time.”

“You’ve already booked all that?”

“Yep. It’ll mean I’ll be relieving the day bartender a little later, but that won’t be a problem.”

“Won’t you be tired?”

“I can sleepwalk through work practically by now. I’ll be fine.”

“Sounds great Peg.”

“Except the part about not getting a honeymoon.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Every day’s a honeymoon when I’m with you.”

“Me too.”

“Too sweet,” Chrissy giggled.

“We’ll let you go,” said Peg.

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

“Me three,” Chrissy giggled and they ended the call.

The next pleasant interruption was Marisol bringing him dinner. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted a beer or a cola so I brought both,” she grinned.

“That’s perfect,” he smiled back.

She gave him a kiss and told him “Later,” and strolled out, bringing his coffee mug and the dishes from brunch.

And she did arrive later, insisting he close his laptop and come to bed where she sucked him off, swallowed his cum, and he kissed her before returning the favor, and once he’d given her a couple orgasms with his mouth, gave her three more with his cock, all in the missionary position, all very much like lovemaking except maybe the last bit where his thrust became much harder and faster, became about that last bit of friction enabling the climax of the tryst for both of them.

He watched her dress. She gave him one last lingering kiss.

Again they shared breakfast in the morning after sharing a quickie and a shower, Marisol actually wearing a shower cap over her thick dark hair so as not to gain suspicion if she were to return to the house with damp hair.

He decided to interrupt his writing this time, walking up to the main house just before noon. He told Maria he was going to take a walk. “Ask Marisol,” she surprised him. “She likes taking walks.”

“Where is she?”

“In the mediation room, last door on the right,” she pointed down the hallway.

He knocked and heard, “Come in.” Marisol set down a tablet.

“I told your mother I wanted to take a walk. She suggested you might want to accompany me.”

“I would,” she grinned.

A cool breeze kept the heat of the sun at bay while they walked up the canyon road. She pointed out houses owned or once owned by famous people. “Walter showed me,” she explained. “Most I never heard of but he educated me too.”

Between the tour of famous homes, they talked, or more she mostly talked.