"Yeah, that's right," I say. "I remember the script."

"And then the bad phantom-android-"

"Baby," I interrupt gently. "The synopsis can wait."

"We're waiting," Chloe says. "Scott forgot his dialogue."

"Baby, I read the shooting script," I say. "He only has one line. Singular."

The seventeen-year-old director moves over to the booth holding a walkie-talkie and he's wearing DKNY silver jeans and sunglasses and it's all kind of a glam combo. "Chloe, we've decided to shoot the first shot last."

"Taylor, I'm desperately needed somewhere in less than an hour," Chloe pleads. "It's a matter of life or death. Taylor, this is Victor."

"Hey," Taylor says. "We met at Pravda last week."

"I wasn't at Pravda last week but oh what the hell, forget it-how's it going?"

"The extras are cool kids but we want to portray a lifestyle that people can relate to," Taylor explains. I'm nodding deeply. "My vision is to create the opposite of whatever smuggling Pervitin back from Prague in a rented Toyota means." An interruption, static from the walkie-talkie, garbled screams from across the room. "That's just Lars, the runner." Taylor winks.

"Taylor-" Chloe starts.

"Baby, you will be whisked out of this room in less than thirty, I promise." Taylor moves back to the group surrounding the egg.

"God, my nerves are fraught," she says.

"What does that mean?"

"It means it has taken a week to shoot this and we're three weeks behind schedule."

Pause. "No, what does `fraught' mean?"

"It means I'm tense. It means I'm very tense."

Finally: "Baby, we gotta talk about something."

"Victor, I've told you that if you need any money-"

"No, no." Pause. "Well, actually that too, but..."

"What?" She looks up at me, waiting. "What is it, Victor?"

"Baby, it's just that I'm getting really, um, I'm getting really nervous opening up magazines and reading about who your ideal man is."

"Why is that, Victor?" She turns back to the mirror.

"Well, I guess the main reason is that"-I glance over at La Tosh and lower my voice-"it's like the total opposite of me?"

"Oh, so what?" She shrugs. "I said I liked blonds."

"But baby, I'm really a brunette."

"Victor, you read this in a magazine, for god's sake."

"Jesus, and all this shit about having kids." I'm moving around now. "Spare me, baby. What's the story? What's the megillah?"

"You'll forgive me, Victor, if I have no idea what `megillah' means."

"Baby, I'm your best friend, so why don't-"

"A mirror's your best friend, Victor."

"Baby, it's just that..." I trail off hopelessly. "I... care about us and..."

"Victor, what's wrong? What is it? Why are you doing this now?"

I recover slightly. "Nothing, nothing. It's nothing." I'm shaking my head, clearing it.

"I've been holding an ice cube all day," Chloe says.

"Your fingers are turning blue and you've been rolling around with Scott Benoit all day. Is that what you're saying?"

Music from a boom box, something British, Radiohead maybe, a ballad, lush and sad, plays over the scene.

"Victor, all I want to do, in the following order, is Todd's show, your opening and then collapse into bed, and I don't even wanna do two of those."

"Who's Baxter Priestly?" I blurt out.

"He's a friend, Victor. A friend. My friend," she says. "You should get to know some of them."

I'm about to take her hand but think better of it. "I ran into one today. Lauren Hynde." I wait for a reaction but there isn't one. "Yeah, I saw her before band practice when I was buying CDs at Tower Records. She seemed like really hostile."

"Buying CDs at Tower? Band practice? These are the essentials? You were swamped? What else did you do today? Visit a petting zoo? Take glass-blowing lessons?"

"Hey baby, chill out. I met a friend of yours. That should soothe you-"

"I'm dating an imbecile and I should be soothed by this?"

A long pause, then, "Baby, I'm not an imbecile. You're very cool."