So we slept over, like a couple of girls from elementary school.
I got to see Kristi in her panties, and I made drinks.
And I made that girl use her tablet.
"Do you have installed Final Draft?"
"No."
"Let me give you my account info. Download anything you need, ok, it's on me."
"Yeah," Kristi, said, in her panties on my kitchen counter. "You're sure this is nothing lesbo?"
"Nothing of the sort. Your pussy is safe from me. I hate the stuff."
"You hate pussy?"
"Look I hate pussy, is that ok with you? I just want to write a script. Help yourself to ice cream in the fridge."
"This is like the best job ever."
"A job where you can sit on your boss's counter in your undies eating Klondike bars, it better be the best job ever."
"It is."
"Well open your Final Draft application. Open my mess of a script and let's get started."
"I don't think your script is such a mess."
"I don't have time for lies, young one, just help me fix it."
"Well I think you have a lack of action in scene one."
"Well fix it, Hollywood; fix it."
"You've got pussy girl, dick man, but why..why are they thrown together..you might want to have something like that."
"Well add it."
"You want me to just edit your script?"
"I'm paying you 24 hours a day, the least you can do is edit my script."
"Alright I'm adding a slug line here."
"What's a slug line?"
"That's like DAYTIME, REMOTE CABIN etc."
"Ok."
"DAYTIME, REMOTE CABIN?"
"Ok."
"You're ok with DAYTIME, REMOTE CABIN?"
"Look, I'm writing a polemical comedy, I don't care if it's DAYTIME, REMOTE CABIN or NIGHTTIME, EIFFEL TOWER. Ok? As long as the characters meet and hook up."
"They're going to hood up."
"But with you I have no idea if they're going to meet in a freeway underpass or what."
"Would you let me do my job?"
"Certainly, young maestro, would you like a drink to help?"
"Uh, yes."
I look at my fine catch: a female sitting on my futon working on my script.
"Look, leave the fetishistic female-on-female violence in there, ok? I kinda worked for years on that."
"I can tell."
"You can?"
"Oh yeah."
This girl tapped away at the tablet violently.
"I get your violence. Would never dream of disturbing it."
I drink some more gin.
"I'm going to check out now," I say. "But you keep working on that script. I'll be available for consultation. But only of a philosophical nature."
"You're silly," this young girl says.
And I'm lying in bed next to her, and she's typing, and she asks me if I can provide her more detail on the chauvinistic qualities of the writing, and I say:
"It's not a true chauvinism. That's where you—and everyone—will make their mistake. If it was written by a chauvinistic male..then..maybe..it would be true chauvinism. But how can I write true chauvinism? I'm a woman. Would anything I ever write be true chauvinism? I can only imitate chauvinism. What are you about?"
And I look at this little girl—for she was a little girl to me—and I watched her squirm at this most difficult of questions and she said:
"I have designs on this city, I do—you want to know what they are?"
"Yes"—and I think I'm photographing her.
"My designs on this city are bigger than actress—"
"Good."
"They're bigger than production assistant!"
"Good!"
"What are you, like a female Anthony Robbins and shit?"
"No, I'm not a female Anthony Robbins and shit."
"Well it seems like it!"
"I'm just trying to encourage a girl like myself, that's all."
"You think we're so much like each other," says Kristi, picking her crotch.
I sit beside her.
"What are you picking at??"
"My labia."
"Thank you for being so specific."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"No, not at all. What's going on with your labia?"
"They itch. Since this last guy I fucked."
"You don't look like you have much hair under there."
"I don't. Wanna see?"
And before I have time to answer, she shows me her labia, her pussy.
"That's just razor burns."
"Really?"
I nod.
"I don't have an STD?"
"Doesn't look like it, girl."
"You're not gonna make me fuck you, are you?"
"I'm not sure what that would even mean between us but no."
"Can I just go to sleep?"
"But script work in the morning."
"Good, I'll get coffee."
"Good, I'll relish that. Not having to leave my house to get coffee."
"You'll never have to leave your house again."
"That's nice of you, Kristi."
"No, you're paying for it! I'll get you coffee 24/7 and this is a good neighborhood for coffee."
"You're good, Kristi; you don't mind spending the night here with me in your panties?"
"Not really—unless you're going hunting for my clitoris at 3am!"
"Not exactly—no offense to your clitoris—"
"None taken. I mean I'll do your script and—"
"That's all I'm asking for, K, Kristi."
I laid on my back in the bed with my new assistant beside me. I knew my mound and my lips were visible but the little girl did just what I expected: she curled up against me as a child to its mother.
I said, "Goodnight, baby that I never had."
And she said—no shit—"Goodnight, mother that I never had."
And she curled into my armpit.
I mate for life.
Some little Hollywood girl named Kristi.
That was good enough for me.