The next day, Channel 10 news (ABC) called me, asking if it was possible to interview Becky Page that afternoon. I told them to be there at 1:30, so Becky could be showered, dressed, and have a bit of lunch beforehand. I asked the nature of the interview. "Jerry Fallwood has done a mass mailing to his followers, regarding Ms. Page. It's rather inflammatory stuff. We have a copy of the letter, we'd like Ms. Page to read it, then give us a response."
I sighed. "Yes, that should brighten my wife's afternoon. I can't wait to read this little missive, I'm going to be scanning for anything I can sue the shit out of Fallwood for saying in public."
The woman from Channel 10 said, "He was careful. We've been over it ourselves with our legal staff, and I'm sure the letter was reviewed by Fallwood's legal team too. Lots of invective, lots of rhetoric, and --- to be frank --- some veiled threats, but no libel or open prods for his audience to engage in any illegal activity." She paused. "I won't lie. If I was Becky Page, I'd be in the process of hiring a bodyguard after reading this letter. It is a call to arms, and the enemy is Ms. Page."
"Ahead of you. Becky has has a bodyguard for months. Her name is Terry, she carries a pistol, and she is five foot six of walking hell. I've watched Terry throw guys with seven inches and eighty pounds on her across a room. She is utterly fearless, her and Becky are friends, and Terry is very, very protective of those close to her. Haw, Terry is like Mongo from 'Blazing Saddles.' Don't bother to shoot her, you'll just piss her off, and then your day is over. Would you like to meet her?"
Another brief pause, then, "If she is present, we'd love to hear her perspective. Has this woman had to deal with threats like this before?"
"Not like this," I answered. "Terry has had to protect Becky from people who believe they love her, not hate her. Becky's fans can be a bit obsessive."
"Who is this woman?"
"Her name is Terry Patton. If you're going to probe her legal history, she's got a string of arrests a mile long, but no convictions, not even jaywalking. Terry is an outlaw biker, and has been since the age of thirteen. You people will find her quite photogenic I'm sure, she looks like the biker babe she is. Yes, if she's not occupied, I'll make sure she's around."
"She wouldn't be around anyway?" the Channel 10 woman asked.
I said, "No, not today. Terry doesn't live with us or anything. I'm Becky's husband, and I look after her when we're together. She's training to be a professional marks-woman. Her favorite thing to do is to go out to the desert around dusk, when there's just enough light to see, and set up a long wooden block with small holes drilled in it. The holes will have wooden matches in them. Terry likes to see if she can light them with a .22 round, from fifteen yards off."
"Can she even see the matches?"
"Terry has eyesight that birds of prey are envious of."
After we hung up, I dove back into my desk work. In about forty minutes, I heard people coming down the stairs: Dawn, Bekka, and that morning's stud, Tex. He and Bekka were just doing a one-on-one loop, the "plot" of which revolved around an incompetent temp worker (Tex) convincing his boss for the week (Bekka) that he did have a few skills which made his presence worthwhile. Hilarity ensues. Tex was in heaven: there was a domme/sub vibe to the scene, at one point Bekka "forcing" Tex to suck her toes. (Tex was an incorrigible foot fetishist.) I followed them out onto the patio and told Bekka she had plans that afternoon.
Bekka rolled her eyes and said, "I'm not worried about eating lunch, then. I'm doing this gig high as shit, I'm sitting in your damn office with the glass pipe until we hear the doorbell ring."
"Ooh, I'll keep you company," Dawn grinned.
"No problem, Ms. Tweaks-A-Lot," responded Bekka. To me, she said, "So, any clue what's in this love note?"
I told her, "According to the woman from Channel 10, it's pretty ugly. And figure that every dickhead on Fallwood's mailing list got a copy, too. That's what worries me. The news-woman suggested you hire a bodyguard. I told her you already had one --- shit, I gotta call Terry, I want her on camera --- and that I carry, you carry, and so does Terror. Anyone aiming genuine malice at you is in for a serious challenge. But uh, from what she said, this letter is pretty inflammatory."
"But I'll bet Fallwood still put in a plea for money," said Tex.
"I'm sure he covered all his bases," responded Dawn.
The news van showed up at 1:30 on the dot. Spike, our Hell's Angel security guard, jogged in to let us know they'd arrived. He also suggested we do the interview anywhere but in my office, as it was positively foggy with meth smoke.in there. Bekka, Terry, and myself went outside to meet our guests. (Dawn didn't like the press, and made herself scarce.) Bekka had run home and installed her favorite pair of devil horns on her head. Jane had stopped by at lunch, and had been told of the interview. The reporter, Pauline Fawcett, introduced herself while the two-man crew set up on the driveway. She gave us the copy of the letter, which Terry and I read over Bekka's shoulder.
Ms. Fawcett had been right, it was a call to arms, in every way but literal. Becky Page was "America's own Satan." She was described as an "instrument of evil" no less than five times. Everything Fallwood's minions held dear would be destroyed by Becky Page, if she was not "stopped." How to stop her was left unsaid. That concerned me. In general, Becky Page (and Inana Productions) were condemned as moral and spiritual cancers, and readers were encouraged to take "direct action" in stopping Ms. Page. She would destroy, single-handed, Christianity, family, and the "values that make America the country it is." I asked to make a copy. While I went to use the machine, Bekka chatted briefly with Ms. Fawcett, introducing Terry.
They were just about to start when I was done. Things had been shifted to the patio, so the pool and hillside would be in the background, not the mansion. Ms. Fawcett asked, "So, what are your views of the letter sent by Reverent Fallwood?"
Bekka: "Is he a Reverend? All this time, I assumed he was a rabid street loony, who someone had cleaned up and given at television show, an elaborate and expensive prank that got out of control.
"I am going to take a moment to respond, so that what I say can actually be broadcast without too many bleeps in the audio. Fallwood calls me Satan five times in his letter, by my count. Utter horsesh--- horse poopie. I was raised Catholic, and I am --- whether he wants to believe it or not --- a Christian. Fallwood may feel that my career is contradictory to Christian faith, but I fail to see how. I'm not hurting anyone, I'm not exploiting anyone. My own opinion is that sexuality is one of God's greatest gifts to mankind, and He wants us to enjoy it, not feel guilt for our own instincts. Without sexual desire, our species would not continue. I believe our sexuality should be celebrated, and that's one of the reasons why I do what I do."
Fawcett: "What do you think of Falwood's call for 'direct action?'"
Bekka: "Well. First off, I will save some time for those who plan on sending me hate mail. Inana Productions has long had a policy of throwing away any mail which doesn't have a return address unopened, so anyone wanting to call me a whore and a slut and a devil must have the personal conviction to identify themselves.
"On his TV show, Fallwood suggested his viewers picket video stores carrying my movies. My own request to fans, and anyone who supports the First Amendment, is to not be cowed. Cross the line, and rent what you want. And anyone who wishes to challenge you, demand they engage in a dialogue, don't just yell back. Force them to state, calmly and rationally, their views. Respond in an equally calm and rational manner. Ask if they've watched the videos they're protesting. If the answer is no, suggest they do, then elaborate on what they find offensive. But don't be bullied, and don't just hurl abuse back.
"I know there are a few in the world who are going to take the idea of 'direct action' as a sign it's time to start a jihad, and Becky Page is the first target. You're already aware the studio has been attacked in the past, by a man with an AR-15 and body armor. My husband took five rounds that day, but between him and me, we stopped this madman from committing mass murder.
"In fact, I'd like to give a little demonstration, and introduce you to someone. Terry, will you come here?"
Terry stepped up next to Bekka, with a smile and a Camel on her lips, wraparound shades in place. "This is Terry Patton. Terry is my bodyguard, she's with me when I'm out and Lenny isn't around. Like a neutron bomb, Terry is proof that small packages can be very dangerous. I've watched her throw men far larger than her across a room. Also.... Terry, shall we show our insurance cards? Lenny, you should show yours too."
I got next to Bekka and opened my denim, pulling out my Beretta. Then I pulled the two extra clips from an inside pocket. I said, "This is a Beretta 92FS. I have three fifteen-round clips, all of which hold nine millimeter hollow-point ammunition. Forty-five rounds. Becky and Terry both carry smaller pistols, Colt Defenders. They hold eight-round magazines of the same ammo, and carry extra clips. All three of us are registered with the San Diego County Sheriff's Department to carry concealed. Anyone who comes across us outside of a courtroom or our own homes should know they're meeting someone with a loaded gun on their person, and have used them in the past. Persons wishing to physically harm Becky Page should keep this well in mind."
Terry added, "We don't pull our iron very often. Try to get in Becky's face, and I'm gonna put you on the ground with my hands. Pull a weapon, well, now you know what you'll be up against." The three of us re-holstered, Terry and I stepping into the background again.
Fawcett: "So you don't fear the Moral Militia?"
Bekka: "I.... am wary of them. To be frank, they make me a little sad. They seem to be willingly manipulated by a psychotic Evangelical with a TV show, rather than examining me and my videos on their own. They take Fallwood's words as gospel. Until I see Fallwood walk across a swimming pool without getting his cuffs wet, I would suggest such blind faith is very misguided."
"Cut" was announced. Ms. Fawcett asked Terry if she minded being interviewed a bit more in depth, and was given a yes. We heard the rumble of a Harley in the driveway, and a moment later Jane appeared, doffing her leather. She was in white patent leather pants and a red leather bustier. She dipped her hands in the pool so she could re-spike her hair. Her arrival attracted the attention of the Channel 10 people, who wanted to know who she was. I glanced at my watch and saw it was twenty minutes before the final bell at Carlsbad High, so I told them, "A very bad girl."
"Am I here too late?" Jane asked. "I wanted to hear what Bekka had to say."
"You're too late for that. You're also too early to be out of school. Are you ditching?"
"Sixth period is volleyball practice. I told my coach what was going on, and she let me cut out early. She really doesn't like Jerry Fallwood, and wants to see the interview tonight."
Ms. Fawcett approached Jane and said, "Are you a performer here at the studio?"
Jane shook her head. "No, I'm Lenny and Becky's roommate. I cut out of class early so I could lend moral support."
"Where do you attend classes? UCSD?"
"Carlsbad High. I'm a senior."
Ms. Fawcett's eyebrows went up. "You're still in high school, but you live with Becky Page? Are you family?"
"It's kind of a long story...." I inserted.
"Would you mind if I interviewed this young lady?" I was asked.
"Jane is a free agent. If she wants to talk to you, I can't stop her."
The producer got Jane in shot, and Ms. Fawcett began asking questions. Jane explained she was a throwaway from Gainesville, Florida, who had been legally emancipated and had lived with us almost exactly a year. She gushed about our generosity and patience and love, telling Ms. Fawcett she'd be just another teenage hooker in LA if it weren't for us. "My aspirations are far higher than they ever would be thanks to Becky and Lenny."
"So what is home life like with Becky Page?" asked Ms. Fawcett.
"Very comfortable, and far, far more sedate than people would think. I'm at school Monday through Friday of course. I get home and knock out my homework. Three nights a week, I make dinner. Becky is turning me into a whiz with Italian food. After dinner, well, we'll park in the living room and talk about our day and watch TV, or spend time in the spa. I head to bed around 10:30."
"So, living with the most popular porn star in the world is actually a fairly routine existence."
"Oh, absolutely," Jane said. Then she laughed. "If anything, I've made their lives more unusual."
"How is that?"
"Well, I have enough self-awareness to know that I can act like a stereotypical teenager sometimes. I can pout and sulk with the best of them. Okay, Becky and Lenny aren't my legal guardians, but they're still the adults in my life, and they love me, so they're going to say something when I'm trying to make a typical stupid teenage decision. Also, I became a nudist over the summer, so they've had to adjust to having a naked girl wandering around the house all the time.... Although I do put on an apron when I'm cooking. Being spattered by bubbling hot marinara sauce is no fun if you're naked!"
Ms. Fawcett's eyebrows went up again. "And how did you decide to embrace nudism?"
Jane replied, "I spent the summer in Europe with a family friend. We visited a nudist resort in Italy called Lake Como, and I realized I'd never felt more free in my life." She paused. "It wasn't anything Becky and Lenny encouraged, it was my own life choice. They'd seen me naked before, we don't wear suits in the spa, but they were a little jarred when I told them they'd be seeing me sans clothing pretty much constantly at home. I keep a robe downstairs in case anyone shows up unexpected, but really, it's just how things are at this point."
"So has living with Becky Page affected your life in any way?"
"Well.... I am a bit spoiled at this point. Like, when I was in the process of enrolling at Carlsbad High --- attending school was a requirement for living with them --- Becky said, 'Taking the bus sucks, we need to get her a car.' Lenny is all, 'No problem, I'll pick something up in the next couple days.' Me and Becky are assuming he's gonna get me a Honda or Toyota, a few years old, right? Nope, Lenny brings home a 1971 Cutlass 442, a serious muscle car, and it's absolutely beautiful. He shows it to us and says, 'There, what do you think? I wanted you to have a lot of steel around you.'" Jane laughed. "Of course, I loved it! The first thing to run through my mind was, 'Ooh, boy magnet!' Becky said she was never letting Lenny go car shopping alone again!"
"So, living with an adult film actress has never put you in any.... unusual situations?"
Jane gave Ms. Fawcett a look, and said, "I see what you're getting at, and no. Of course Lenny and Becky socialize with the people from Inana, they're all good friends, and of course I'm around. But sorry, I have no tales of debauchery to share, I haven't been witness to any. When they talk about work, they're focused on the technical aspects of what they do. Steve the director would come over and we sat around reading video camera brochures and catalogs, trying to decide what the studio was going to upgrade to. Yeah, there's a real raunchy time. The other performers are just people, you know? And they're really nice people, too.
"The most that can be said is that I've seen all their movies. and that was because Becky and Lenny wanted me to understand what they did for a living, they didn't want me to think their careers were something to be ashamed of. We'd watch a movie, and they'd give me the nuts and bolts information about what was going on, making it clear they're doing a technical job, not having some sort of orgy every day."
Ms. Fawcett signaled she was done interviewing Jane, and Terry was on camera next. She explained she'd started "as a crew member," had become friends with us, became my personal assistant while "Succubus" was in production, and we'd proposed she become Becky's bodyguard shortly before wrapping up our time in Imperial Valley. Terry said, "I'm not gonna elaborate too much, but I've seen some pretty rowdy action in my life, and so nothing much scares me or rattles me at this point. Some big dude comes after Becky, whatever. Okay, so I gotta put a big dude on the floor. But if he's bugging Becky, I will put him on the floor. I'll drop Mike Tyson if I have to."
As the two-man crew began wrapping things up, Ms. Fawcett told me, "If I haven't mentioned before, this will all be going to national via satellite. They're going to do their own story and editing, but Channel 10 will have our version. We've got a full hour to play with starting at five, so ours is probably going to be longer than the ABC Nightly News piece. Any last thoughts?"
I said, "You've got a lot of video to play with. My only request is that when you edit, you stick with the tenor of what people have said. Don't just find random juicy-sounding sentences and string them together, you know? Make sure our meanings in our statements come through."
"Will do." She paused. "Seeing you and Becky interact was interesting to me. I won't lie, my assumption was you two had a marriage driven by your careers, it was a convenience. You two really love each other, don't you?"
"With all our hearts. Becky is the center of my life."
Ms. Fawcett smiled and said, "I think that's wonderful."
And voila, we actually had a friend in the local media.
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