Nicky had been Don Ventimiglia's personal protection, and had adapted to the Don's preferred hours. None of this lazy sleeping in until 8:30 a.m., wasting the best hours of the day (according to Don V.). No, up at 6:15, and downstairs to start the coffee. Nicky had company at this hour, although he may not have wanted it. Jane was up at the same time, getting ready for school. As soon as she was out of the shower her stereo went on, and when she went down for breakfast, she'd turn on the living room stereo. No escaping the music, except in our room, which remained blissfully silent with the door closed. Nicky was not a music guy. I already knew he hated the Cramps, and I doubted he would be amenable to any of Jane's choices of wake-up music.
Nicky was out on the deck when Jane came down. She was wearing a blue leather bustier, alligator skin pants, and blue fourteen-hole Doc Martens. She headed straight for the stereo, putting on "Songs About Fucking" by Big Black. The sound of horribly distorted guitars over a Roland drum machine filled the downstairs. Jane started the coffee maker and poked a Newport in her mouth, heading out on the deck to scope out early morning surfer boys. She said good morning to Nicky, who grunted in response.
"I'll probably regret asking this, but what the hell are we listening to?" asked Nicky.
Jane answered, "This is Big Black, a proto-industrial band from Chicago. This was their last album before they broke up. Choice stuff, huh?"
"Please don't claim that this is music. This is noise. It's someone yelling while screeching and grinding noises happen, with a rhythmic thudding in the background. You cannot tell me you take enjoyment from listening to this. And the people responsible for it must be suffering some heavy mental illness."
Jane puffed her Newport, put her chin in the air, and said, "I do enjoy it. This sound brings me energy, makes me feel alive. Steve Albini, the guy responsible for most of this, isn't insane, he's a genius. So what the hell should I be listening to?"
"Shit, I don't know. Elton John."
Jane snickered at this suggestion. "I'm sorry, no. There is not enough time in life to spend any of it listening to a chubby, piano-playing British swish. Care to try again?"
"Why can't you just turn on the radio like a normal person?" asked Nicky.
"Because radio is a wasteland of prepackaged pap. The songs with the heaviest rotation are the ones who won the bidding war. I have loads and loads of music I like, both down here and in my room. I can put on an album and be enthralled, entertained, energized. Radio stupefies me. Radio has a million words, but can't think of anything to say. I'd rather make my own show, using my own music and a cassette."
The album side was over. Jane went inside and swapped it for the album "Damaged" by Black Flag. Jane poured coffee into two mugs and brought them out to the deck. Nicky stared into his and said, "You take your coffee black? I usually take cream."
Jane said, "Go ahead, try it. This is really smooth, you don't need creamer. It's a hazelnut//Sumatra blend that Lenny and Bekka get. You don't need cream or sugar for this stuff."
Nicky took a doubtful sip, then another. "Say, this is really good. I'm impressed. Um, you're headed to school today?"
Jane affirmed this.
"Then why are you dressed like that?"
Jane stared at Nicky for a few moments. She said, "Really, the only honest answer is, Because I fucking feel like it. I like dressing sexy, and I'm comfortable in this stuff. Besides, I have a reputation as a psychotic sex bomb to maintain, so this is just about right. My reputation helps keep the cheerleader bitches off of me, boys flock around in an obliging manner, and my male teachers are right there if I raise my hand for help. The power of my decolletage has ruined men far stronger than them."
"So you slut it up, then," said Nicky.
"No," replied Jane. "I want to be a sex bomb, just like Becky Page. I want to suggest, through my appearance, that there are limits to the amount of physical pleasure.a human being can stand, and I push that limit. And like Becky, I am always in control of the situation. I will always persevere."
"You're sixteen, why do you want to be a sex bomb? You can't tell me you don't upset the adults in your life dressed like that, or were you unaware?"
Jane said, "Sex spurs us on nearly as strongly as food, and more strongly than shelter. Human beings don't have a mating season. That makes us fairly unique in the animal kingdom, we can fuck pretty much constantly. And we're incredibly creative, too. Who thought up the blowjob? Some cave-woman, wanting to do something nice for her man. Plus bondage, role-playing, fetishes, leather, domme/sub relationships, sex toys, spanking, water sports, and toe sucking. Sex is all-encompassing. Our species wallows in it. What the hell, I like to do a bit of wallowing myself.
"Lenny and Bekka, the two adults in my life who I listen to, are fine with my fashion sense. My teachers consider me a distraction, especially when I'm the one to solve a problem on the board. I especially distract the boys. Shit, it's not my fault they're repressed. So the teachers and administrators despair in me, but they can't say much to an honor roll student with nearly perfect attendance."
Nicky asked, "Is it Bekka who encourages you to dress like this?"
Jane laughed. "Not at all. I've been trying to dress as sexy as possible since I was twelve. Sorry, but from the first time I learned firsthand what an orgasm was, I've been hooked. I'm sure there are boys at my school who masturbate while thinking of me. I couldn't be more flattered. Making someone come, even by proxy, is still an achievement. To think that I inspire orgasm in others makes me very happy."
Jane stretched and said, "And now I must leave. You need to move your car so I can get mine out. I guess I'll see you this evening, when y'all are back from the video signing."
We arrived early to meet the limo. This was by design, as I wanted to check my messages. All five of my distributors had called, begging for us to hurry up with the new shipment of tapes, they were running dry. Also of note was a call from Hustler magazine, wanting to get a hold of Ellen. They wanted Skye Tyler to be a centerfold. When she arrived, I relayed the good news. She was ecstatic.
"Oh wow, this is too cool!" said Ellen. "Bekka, you've worked with Hustler before, what's it like?"
"Very professional," replied Bekka. "You know how to take direction, so you'll do just fine. Despite the tone of the magazine, they treat their models with courtesy and respect. You aren't just chattel."
Nicky was introduced to Boss. Nicky was definitely put off at having to share a limo with this mutant. Boss explained his relationship with the family, which didn't relax Nicky any. The Southern California mafia was shifting huge amounts of an esoteric drug, and the person in charge appeared to be a werewolf with gigantism. Just before the limo arrived, I passed out Ecstasy to everyone. It was refused by Boss, who was trying to stay clean. Nicky also refused, on general principles. On the way there, Bekka and I demonstrated our meth pipe close up. Elspeth took a couple hits, curious about a smoked drug that had no flavor or odor. She took her first hit, slowly exhaled, then smiled and said, "Yeah, that does do the job. Damn." Boss looked amused, Nicky looked appalled.
We pulled into bedlam at the Mira Mesa Smut 'N' Stuff. A line came out the front door, wrapped around the building, then ran through the parking lot out to the street. The driver pulled up to the front doors and let us out, where we were greeted by Angel. At the sight of the girls, the mob waiting in line began to applaud. The girls waved and we ducked into the store itself. Angel ushered us to the manager's office in the rear, where he had some "refreshment" lined up. Surprisingly, Nicky accepted this. After the girls took a potty break, we went out and surveyed the setup. Once again, Boss took the far end, where he could observe both the crowd and the girls. I got behind the tables, hovering near Bekka. Nicky came over and planted himself two inches behind Bekka, if he'd gotten a hard-on he'd have whacked her in the head.
"What are you doing?" Bekka asked him.
"My job," Nicky replied. "I'm the one who is supposed to watch after Becky Page. I won't let anybody bother you. You can relax."
"I'd like my fans relaxed too. They won't be when there's a muscly dude with an obvious gun bulge inside his jacket standing behind me, rubbing his crotch into my scalp. Stand back by that display rack, you'll be close enough if I need you. If I put my hand in the air, it means I need you."
"Don't worry, I've got my eye on these assholes," Nicky announced, loud enough for the fans to hear.
The signing started. Once again, there were two lines: the main one, and a small one of three to five dudes, built up in front of Bekka's table. Still, we weren't having the same problem of fans wanting to have conversations with Becky Page. We were getting people through quicker here. At the hour mark I stepped outside for a look at the line. Still out to the street, but not growing. There was a chance we'd have no disappointed fans come seven o'clock.
Around a quarter to five Elspeth shot her hand into the air. I stepped to her table, Boss began approaching. Elspeth was as white as a ghost. "He has a knife," she stated flatly.
I looked at the fan, then down at his hands. He had a psychotic smile on his face and a knife with a six inch blade in his right hand. He didn't seem bothered by my arrival at all. At that moment he decided it was time to play. He drew the knife back to get a good slashing swing in. If he held the same trajectory the knife would come straight across Elspeth's neck. Elspeth screeched and threw herself backwards out of the chair. I dove over the table with both hands aimed at the psycho's right wrist. We both piled into Boss, who was right behind him.
I grabbed the psycho's wrist and twisted it like a bungee cord. He squawked and the knife dropped free. Boss lifted him up by the neck and shook him like a rag doll. The psycho yelled and flailed, trying to squirm out of Boss's grip. I told Boss, "Hold him up like that. I wanna check him for any more toys."
The psycho tried squirming even more as I checked his pockets. Boss told him to hold still, or else Boss would put him to sleep. In the small of his back I found a sheath knife clipped to his belt. I also confiscated a boot knife from the inside of the Tony Lamas he was wearing.
Angel came trotting up to see what all the hoo-hah was. I pointed at the Buck knife lying open on the floor, and held up the two other knives I'd found. "This guy tried to slash Elspeth," I told Angel. "We need some law."
Angel flipped his Beretta out of its holster and said, "Boss, get this guy into the office. Lenny, see how Elspeth is doing. If she's freaked, she can sit out the rest of the signing. Nicky. Nicky!"
Nicky stopped wiping at his nose and said, "Yes, Mr. Morelli?"
"The three of us will be off the floor for a few minutes. Take point on security, where Boss was, and keep the line moving. We'll be back."
Nicky frowned.. "I'm only supposed to watch over Becky."
Angel frowned back. "And in case you didn't notice, we've had a bit of a situation here. Becky will be fine. Now get the fuck over here and take point. Don't worry, you won't be alone long."
I went to where Elspeth was sitting at her table. "You okay, girl?" I asked. "You want a break for a while?"
She smiled up at me. "I'm okay, really. Just rattled. I could really use a cigarette, though. Let me step out front and smoke."
"Like hell if you're going outside alone," I said. "We'll go smoke together. Then you'll be okay with the rest of the signing?"
"I'll be fine," Elspeth said.
"Wait here for a minute, then. I'll arrange it so your absence won't be missed."
I went to the front of the line and the gatekeeper, who I told I was going to rearrange things briefly. Then I stepped back and yelled, "Attention! May I have your attention please!" Silence suddenly reigned.
I yelled, "By a show of hands, who is only here to see Becky Page?" About twenty guys raised their hands. I continued, "Then get your asses up front here, we're putting you muggs through first. Form a second line parallel with the first one." I said to the gatekeeper, "Clear out the Becky Page fans first. Ella Belle needs a cigarette, and will be gone for a few. Doing it this way, nobody misses out on an autograph. Don't have them backed up more than five deep in front of Becky."
I waved Nicky over and told him, "All the focus is going to be on Becky for a little bit. Get back behind her, like you were. Elspeth needs a cigarette, and I'm escorting her. I'll be right out front if you need me."
I waved to Elspeth, who was standing with an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. We walked to the door and stepped outside, wincing at the sudden glare. I got a Marlboro in my mouth and lit us both up from my Zippo. Elspeth dragged deeply and leaned against the wall. The fans waiting in line were curious as to why one of the stars would be out having a smoke, but left us alone.
"He said three words to me: you are him," Elspeth said. "And he just leaned on the table, staring at me with a dumb smile. I glanced down and saw the knife, so I got my hand in the air."
"I'm just happy he didn't spring straight into action. He didn't talk at all, huh?"
"Just that one phrase, 'You are him.' I wonder who he thinks I am?"
We smoked, then went back inside. The timing was perfect, Angel wanted to talk to me. Elspeth got hugs from Bekka and Ellen, then sat back down at her table. Bekka was still contending with the crowd of Becky Page fans I'd filtered out. I followed Angel back into the office.
Boss was standing just inside the office door, Angel's Beretta in his hand. The psycho was sitting in a chair against the opposite wall. His face was a blank slate, totally unreadable. I walked over to him and grabbed him by the hair, saying. "Hello, sunshine. You were going to cut up a friend of mine. I should stomp you on general principles, but the cops are on their way. I guess my question is why? What did she do to you?"
The psycho licked at his cracked lips and said, "Because Ella Belle is Satan. Watch her videos closely enough and you'll see it's true. Ella Belle is ruled by hell. There, poetry. Watch all the videos that she's appeared in, really watch them, and you'll see. Hand gestures to the camera, her eyes change color, she sometimes shows her fangs when she smiles. I've watched her stuff over and over and every time I do, I find something new.
I stepped back and looked into his eyes. His pupils were dilated. I stood him leaning forward against the wall, and went through his pockets. Score. He had a glass pipe in his left front pocket, holding about five hits worth of dope in the bottom. His coin pocket yielded a small plastic bag with about a half gram of dope inside. I set these on the desk. Then I turned back to the psycho.
"When was the last time you slept?" I asked.
He shrugged and glanced around the room. He said, "Seven or eight days. I don't need to sleep, my medication takes care of that. I'm too busy anyway, I'm learning a lot of things. Like right now, I know that you're in league with Satan, and so are these other two. But as long as I destroy Ella Belle, you'll be safe. You'll be free.
I shuffled over to Angel, where he was slouched behind the office desk chewing his thumb. I asked him, "You catch any of that?"
"Fill me in."
This guy is so tweaked out it isn't even funny. He says he hasn't slept for eight days. I guess along the way he watched one of our movies, one with Elspeth in it, where he saw her turn into the devil. He says Elspeth is Satan, and can prove it using her videos. The dude is infested with speed demons, he's watching porn and hallucinating, seeing Elspeth grow fangs. He came here to kill Satan. I wonder what sort of a person he is when he's not massively spun out on speed. He's going to jail by way of County Mental Health, but once he gets the drugs out of his system he'll be as sane as anybody."
"How come you never went off the deep end like this guy?" asked Angel.
I said, "Because I knew enough to remind myself I was on drugs. And I would sleep. Maybe only for a couple of hours, but I'd give my brain a little rest."
Angel said, "You understood the drug you were abusing. Fair enough. Get back out there, Nicky is probably panic-stricken by now. Keep the line moving. The cops should be here by now. Hey Boss, you better give me my gun back before the cops arrive. They don't like it when guns are loaned out. If he bolts for the door, squash him like a grape."
I went back out to find that all three tables were vacant of fans. The line was stopped. The gatekeeper was awaiting instructions from me, now that the Becky Page fans had been disposed of. I told him to start it flowing like normal, so he did.
Nicky called to me. He had a wild look in his eyes. "What's up?" I asked.
"Jesus Christ," Nicky said. "So are all Becky Page fans as intense as I've been seeing? She had those girls who worship her yesterday, plus the sailors. And I swear, every single one of the dudes she just handled confessed their love for her. Five of them begged her to have dinner with them, I hadda tell them they were jamming things up and to move on. She could start a whole new religion."
I replied, "Now you know why she will spend time talking to them, and why she hugs them. Her fans seem to be completely devoted to her. Imagine if you saw the woman you carry in your heart, and she blew you off when you approached her. What a crushing blow. Bekka --- Becky ---- knows that her fans view her as more than just a porn star, and doesn't want to hurt any of them. I dunno, maybe it's enabling behavior on her part, helping keep their inflated view of who Becky Page is. But yeah, her fans are totally devoted to her. I don't know if there is such a thing as a casual Becky Page fan."
I left Nicky where he was and took point on the floor, watching the tables and the line of fans. Presently two cops came in. The cashier pointed them back to the office. They knocked and went in. After about ten minutes Angel came out, called for me, gestured. I told Nicky to keep his eyes on all three tables and went back into the office.
Once there, I was introduced to Officer Gillespie and asked to give my account of what happened. I did so. Gillespie asked why I thought to frisk down the psycho.
I said, "Because he's a blade freak, and blade freaks always carry multiple knives. They'll hide them anywhere, psychologically, knives are their armor. Be careful when you strip search him, he could have a blade hidden anywhere."
"And you frisked him a second time, locating drugs and paraphernalia. Why?"
"To confirm my suspicions, which was that he's so tweaked on meth right now it's a miracle his heart hasn't exploded. He acted paranoid, had wild fantasies he thought were real, he needs a shower, his pupils are dilated, he seemed jittery. Shit, he told me himself that he hasn't slept in eight days. The dude is way around the bend at this point. Commit him on a 5150, stuff him full of Thorazine, let those three days burn the drugs out of his system, then have him arraigned for assault with a deadly weapon. Piece of cake. You know who he is yet? I never found a wallet."
"He'll only say his name is Gabriel," said Gillespie.
I said, "Gabriel.... Of course. Like the archangel. Makes perfect sense. I'm telling you, get him in a mental health hold for seventy-two hours. See what his behavior is like after he gets some sleep."
"You don't think we should take him to a hospital, see if they can straighten him out?"
I held up my hands. "Meth isn't like heroin. With heroin overdose, there are drugs which can be administered to neutralize the smack. So far as I know, nothing counteracts meth. You just have to wait for it to wear off. Thorazine will help some, it slows the brain down to a crawl and gets rid of the hallucinations you get from being awake for eight days. Dunno if it'll make somebody soaked in speed sleep."
"You seem to know an awful lot about meth," Gillespie frowned at me.
"Aw, I've known a few heavy users," I shrugged. "Nice enough people, but they had very intense personalities, you know?"
Officer Gillespie closed his notebook and asked, "So, he went after a girl with the stage name of Ella Belle, correct?"
"Yes. And her real name is Elspeth Iverson."
"He never threatened Becky Page?"
Glaring across at the psycho, Gillespie said, "Good. If he'd threatened Becky, I'd drive him back to the station by cuffing him to the bumper. Becky Page is awesome."
I gestured towards the door and said, "That's it? I need to get out front."
"Yeah, go ahead," Gillespie said. "Thank you, sir. I'll be out shortly to interview Ms. Iverson. She can stay at her table if she wants, just a few quick questions."
I went back out and assumed my position in Boss's spot. After a few minutes Gabriel (the archangel) was marched in cuffs through the store and out the door. He stared at Elspeth for as long as his neck would twist that direction. Momentarily Gillespie returned and aimed for Elspeth's table, where he crouched down by her side, notebook at the ready. Elspeth signed autographs and talked to the cop for about three minutes. He straightened and turned to leave.... Then swerved and headed to Bekka's table. A clever way of starting a conversation, Becky Page was a potential witness. He pulled his notebook back out and began lobbing questions, but soon it became clear they were no longer on the subject of the attack. At one point Bekka pointed directly at me while speaking. After about five minutes of this, Gillespie got up to leave. He had a pained look which I recognized: whatever offer or ploy Gillespie had made, she had turned him down. He started heading to the door, then changed direction and walked up to me.
Gillespie said, "Are you really married to Becky Page?"
"I sure am," I replied.
He considered this, then punched me gently in the arm. "You're a lucky man," he said. "You take good care of her, understand?"
Officer Gillespie began walking towards the doors. I looked over at Bekka. She was sticking her tongue out at his departing figure. I couldn't wait to hear the backstory.
Around 5:30 Angel came out and announced to those in line, "Listen! The ladies are going to take a fifteen minute break right now, so they can stretch their legs and get something to drink. Please be patient, we're back in fifteen." There were a few boos, but no real crisis on the part of the fans.
Angel had planned ahead. He'd put out the correct number of lines of cocaine on the office desk before calling for the break. The girls snorted up first, then the guys. I'd need to speak to Nicky about a nervous habit he had when he did cocaine, which was that he wiped at his nose compulsively. It was a very obvious gesture. He may as well have been wearing a shirt that said, "This man has done coke recently." Oh well, it seemed to improve his disposition some.
Bekka and I leaned against a Xerox machine. I pulled the pipe out and began heating the bowl. I asked her to explain why she'd stuck her tongue out at a cop. She rolled her eyes and said, "Cops can be creeps too. First I turned him down for dinner Sunday. Then he told me that if I agreed to marry him, he would start filing for divorce immediately. He would keep me as a mistress until the divoorce was completed, then he would marry me. I told him I'd make a lousy cop's wife, and the wife he currently has would be very hurt if she knew what he was thinking, and does he not love her? He says, 'Sure, I still love her, she's a sweet girl. But she's not magic, like you are. You win.' So I pointed out that I'm already married, and that I'm not magic, I'm a normal woman. I just have a powerful screen presence in my features. So thank you, officer, but it ain't never gonna happen. He figured out I wasn't just being coy, and that's when he left."
I handed the pipe off to Bekka, exhaling my hit. She began reheating the glass. I told her, "Our knife terrorist turned out to be tweaking so hard he may have set some sort of record. He's been up for eight days, and got the idea in his head that Elspeth is Satan. He watched her videos while hallucinating from lack of sleep, and saw shit on the screen that wasn't there. Ella Belle has fangs. Ella Belle's eyes change color. Ella Belle makes arcane gestures at the camera. This dude is tweaking so hard. He had no ID, and would only identify himself as Gabriel. You know, like the archangel. Too perfect. I told the cops to commit him to a seventy-two hour hold in the funny farm, so he gets some sleep and the drugs leach out of his body. At the end of that time, drag him into court and have him arraigned for whatever charges you arrested him on. Temporarily insane or not, I don't want him walking around free for a while."
Nicky jived on over, saying, "You two still trying to kill yourselves with that shit, huh? Hey Bekka, I've figured out the biggest challenge in being your bodyguard. You can't just watch for the nut cases, because all your fans are nut cases. They're all obsessed with Becky Page, and they're all crazy. So do you merely attract people who are crazy, or do you somehow make them crazy?"
I took the pipe. Bekka said to Nicky, "We've puzzled on the subject for a while. What is it about Becky Page that inspires such devotion and love and loyalty? We've got a few hypotheses, but nothing firm. The current fave is that people are seduced by Becky's fuck scenes. Becky is always rather sexually aggressive, she never weakly submits. And what someone else pointed out is that I'm a talented enough actress to make my fuck scenes feel like love scenes. I give the feeling of emotionally intertwining with those I have sex with, that I am sharing my soul as well as my body. Well, shit. I'm doing those scenes to turn people on, not make their hearts go pitter-pat. Evidently my fuck scenes are actually celebrations of emotion, and my fans want their sex lives to be full of such feelings, too.
"Another hypothesis is that in this post-feminist world we live in, Becky epitomizes the ideal woman, for both men and women. She is beautiful, she is intelligent, she is strong, she's in control, she's a sexual dynamo, she takes no shit, in any situation. Men are attracted by her beauty, sexuality, and strength. Women are drawn in by her strength and courage. Nobody messes with Becky or puts her down. If they do, they pay a heavy price. Becky is like Wonder Woman, without the bondage hangups. Women look up to Becky for all the positive aspects in her persona, she has a woman's grace and sensitivity along with the qualifications to be a superhero. And I'm getting inured to hearing from young women, telling us how Becky made them admit their bisexuality, that they are now more confident and in-charge in the bedroom, they have multiple lovers now and are proud of that, and their bed is now a level playing field. There are all these young women, from teens to post-college age, who feel sexually empowered because of Becky Page. It makes us wish we'd planned it, you know?"
Nicky said, "So basically, you're taking these girls and turn them into sexual predators, totally aggressive and unashamed. Just dandy."
I said, "A lot of this comes from the features being over-analyzed. Women's Studies courses love Becky Page. They watch the movies and then sit around finding meaning in places where there is none. Me and Bekka are hailed as this incredible creative powerhouse, the people who have reinvented porn. Becky Page is like no other porn star, either on screen or off. Fair enough. We proved that you could have a hardcore porn film that is actually engaging as a feature movie. I bust my ass for my movies, I want them all to be excellent. But never have I purposely placed any kind of message or deeper meaning in one of my features. Come on, they're still porno films. We're happy to entertain and arouse, we've never considered trying to make people think. So the Women's Studies courses are barking at shadows. Anything resembling any sort of message in an Inana Production is purely coincidental. Don't blame us."
Bekka added, "Sometimes I try to define who Becky Page is. Okay, she's a very famous and highly popular porn star. But why does she do what she does? What motivates her? As an example, the hugging. Why does she hug complete strangers? The idealized answer is that Becky treasures all people, for one. Also, hugging literally means sharing yourself with another person. To hug a stranger is to thumb your nose at the barriers between you, breaking them down. You and a stranger have shared bits of yourselves. Why not use that bit of vulnerability to become friends or lovers? Hugging shows a willingness to share yourself.
"Or, why is Becky Page such a sexual powerhouse? A few things with this one. First of all, Becky is Sicilian, and speaking one's mind is part of a Sicilian's genetic code. If you're doing something wrong, Becky will tell you. However, she is aware enough of social cues that she can communicate her thoughts without coming off as a bossy bitch. She is highly skilled at pillow talk, and can verbally critique a lover in such a way that the lover doesn't get defensive, but gets aroused again at the thought of doing things differently. Becky is a take-charge kind of woman, no matter what she's doing. She is also easily physically aroused, and if is sufficiently worked up, will express her pleasure long and loud. Men who want women to lie there and shut up during sex would hate being with Becky Page. Her sexual dynamism is just part of a larger picture, one that captures all of Becky's personality."
Angel called out, "Five minutes, people, five minutes!"
Nicky said, "You talk like Becky Page is a whole different person. Come on, you are Becky Page."
Bekka said,, "Becky feels like a separate entity. We've had different things apparently happen in our lives. And we have different quirks. As an example, Bekka is more fearful than Becky. Becky fears almost nothing, and when she finds something she is afraid of, she goes and learns about it until she's not afraid anymore. The hugging is another example. Bekka's style would be to give a loose hug, chests barely touching, and if you could convince Bekka to hug a stranger at all. Becky holds on and squeezes, wrapping herself around the other person, practically dry-humping them. She really does share herself. And the decision to hug strangers came from Becky's feeling that human physical contact should be a more constant, flowing thing.. We should always be touching each other is Becky's feeling."
"I've already criticized Becky Page for doing reckless things," said Nicky. "Do Becky and Bekka share the recklessness? Like the drugs?"
"You mentioned the motorcycle as something you dislike. Sorry, that's common with the both of them. The difference is that me, Bekka, just enjoys going for rides. Becky revels in the fact that she rides a fast, powerful, custom, loud, threatening Harley Sportster. She gets all Freudian and talks about how much she loves having all that power between her legs.
"So far as drugs go, well, Becky can and will rage all night, given the opportunity. She is always open to a new experience, and will smoke, swallow, or snort anything someone hands to her. Becky is rather reckless in that regard, and knows she's being reckless, but doesn't always stop herself in time. Bekka is more of a creature of habit. Her and Lenny are addicted to speed, they can't get through the day without it. So there's that. Also Bekka knows the bong doesn't get brought out until after eight, you drink on Fridays, and you take Ecstasy on Saturdays. So there's a split between the two. Bekka doesn't seek new thrills, but Becky sure does. So far, Becky hasn't gotten the two of them in trouble."
I said, "I can tell the difference between talking to Becky and talking to Bekka. Becky has more of the Sicilian habit of using gestures while talking. Bekka doesn't waste words. They both swear at me in Italian, though."
"Each of them are better at different things. If we got a letter from, say, the district attorney's office, Bekka would be the one to open it. If we're invited to a party where we'll know no one, Becky is the one who rings the doorbell. Yes, it is strange having an alter ego that is considered a separate entity, but that's how things have worked so far."
Angel announced, "Okay, break's over. Let's go knock 'em dead." We filed out of the office and to our respective spots. And the onslaught of fans started again.