The Coital Charade

     Nationally, torches --- professional arsonists --- cost the insurance companies untold millions of dollars each year, and not by stealing calendars.  I will heave no great sobs of pity for the insurance companies, as I consider them to be burdensome pests.  Nonetheless, my friend and coworker Frankie was having a fun time of trying to collect on his burned-out Ferrari Testarossa.  Someone set fire to it in his driveway.      The fire and police reports both said arson was the cause.  Frankie didn't argue that.  His insurance company did want to argue that, claiming (get this) negligence on Frankie's part.  In what way Frankie was negligent went unsaid.  Because Frankie negligently bashed in a window, poured lighter fluid all over the interior, then lit a match.  All this while he was several miles away, having dinner with his wife and young daughter.  Insurance logic.      The main question wi...

     The next day was our first full day of blocking and rehearsal, working through our interior scenes.  Me and Small Steve were moving furniture into place in Dale's "office" when Elspeth and Eddie came skipping in, hand in hand.  They both had anxious looks on their faces.      "Lenny, can we talk to you for a minute?" asked Elspeth.      "Sure, what's up?"      "Someplace more private," said Eddie, gesturing towards the door.  I followed them out.      Eddie said, "Listen, umm....  Do you have any objections to your performers dating each other?"      I smiled.  "Be damn hypocritical of me if I did.  After all, this is where I met my wife.  Why?"      "Eddie and I are seeing each other now," said Elspeth.  "We promise it won't interfere with work or shooting."      "So long as you're not bugged by still doing scenes with othe...

     When the cab dropped them off at the coffee shop on Telegraph, Jane handed Austen a ten and told her to get what she wanted, Jane would be back soon.  Austen went in, and Jane walked to Bancroft and headed west.  At Ellsworth she turned south.  When she reached Dwight Way, she stopped and leaned against the building at the corner.  She scanned up Dwight Way, looking for a blue Mercedes E-Class.  Nothing.  Looking west on Dwight, still noth--- wait.  Late model Mercedes E-Class, blue, sitting in the driveway of a rickety-looking house.  Anyone at the wheel would have a clear view of the front of the residence hall.      Jane considered her options.  She wanted to have the immediate upper hand, and she wanted Greg gone.  A few ideas went through her mind.  She began jogging back along Ellsworth.  When she reached the apartment building at the corner of Ellsworth and Haste, she stopped in front ...

     On Wednesday morning I was clicking away at the keyboard, working on the new script.  Gina buzzed through and said there was a woman who was urgently insistent upon speaking to me, right away.  I'd been having Gina take messages from people so I could call them back in the afternoon, leaving me to work on the script in peace.  I picked up the phone with a grumble.      "Hello, Lenny?" came a vaguely familiar voice.      "Yeah, who's this?"      A slight pause.  "This is Jolene.  From the motel in Grass Valley."      "Oh, hi.  What's up?"      This time a long pause.  "I'm in San Diego."      My turn to pause.  "Oh really?"      Jolene said, "Yes.  I ran away from home.  I couldn't take it any more.  I wanted a husband to live with and ended up with a child to raise.  I took his goddamn Nova yesterday afte...