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    '...I knew there was no good that was going on there after my grandkids..."

   *click-click*

    '...tell you Bret, if the trial is anything like this preliminary hearing, we could be looking at the greatest drama since Dickens, and it's real...'

   "Fuck" *Click*

   '...it is clear that she is a Nephilim, a hybrid of alien (who became our gods) and man, from the race of Goliath and in the image of the Hindu gods.   An omen of the return of the anunnaki...'

   *sigh* *click*

   '...much longer are we going to let the perpetrators of these hate-crimes to our children..."

   *click-click-click*

   '...without examination and testing, we don't even know if she is human as we describe...'

   *click*

   '...the judge in a stunning move released Moors on bail.   We believe she is still hiding somewhere in the city...'

   *click*

   '...police say they were several reports of violence at this warehouse, which Meghan Moors purchased in 2000, and where we believe she resides...'

   *click*

   '..could have been me...'

   "God dammit..."

   "I think it's safe to say that however big we think this is, that it's worse."

   Meghan uncrossed and recrossed her legs as she adjusted her weight on the near end of the sofa for the umpteenth time, entirely fixated on the flat-screen television mounted feet above a nice but scrawny wood desk in the corner of the room.   She had the remote in hand, the only thing she could manage easily was the channel up/down button.   Gary stood close to this desk, almost in the archway between rooms.

   '...Discord.   We've learned that friendship isn't always easy...'

   "I can't even watch a cartoon to escape it.   And all of this,"   Meghan's six arms rose above her head, drawing attention in various ways to the anything else in the room, it did not matter, anything but her for once; this incredible suite that made her feel like she was something special with its beige walls and two-toned tan carpet, French doors separating the living area with the bedroom, its traditional, comforting furnishings that subtly invoked patriotic themes in red and blue stripes.   "Is this really necessary?"   The sound was quieted until the television became an ever mutating display of clashing colors, the remote tossed onto the glass coffee table in frustration.

   "David said it was only for a few days until we figure out what our next step is.   This hotel has security that is used to having high profile guests, it was close by, and as a bonus you won't be bumping your head on the roof, and the bed is just right.   Did you get a look at the tub yet?"   He walked the few steps to her, touching her closest arm and grasping around her palm, urging her off of the sofa, and to occupy her mind on anything else.   It was a futile thing.   Even sitting there she was almost as tall as him.   She would go when she wanted.

   " 'And no one would have a monster at the Ritz-Carlton', right?   Or something like that.   At least not on the inside...perhaps climbing it."

   "Something like that, at least it's not the presidential suite."

   "What I wouldn't give to get my computer back, so I could check on my sales."   Colors violently cascaded on the TV, focus-group tested to incite, but no one here was conditioned to them.   This was a moment of silence to morn a loss.   "And where the hell were you when I need you the most Grey?"

   "Well, I didn't know where they took you for starters, and I had to flush out the fuel lines, and long story short I guess the police and the courts did not take me as credible when there were six other men and a woman that claimed to be 'involved' with you.   I guess my choice of attire does tend to lend to the fraud thing too."   I was fortunate to be able to sell the baby rats for gas money to even get here."

   "Oh Betty, is she OK?   Were they OK?"

   "Betty Poop is fine, her babies were ready to go, much longer and we would have had a real mess on our hands."

   "You should have been in the court room with me."

   "I know."

   Meghan worked her way out of the cushions and pillows of the sofa, a stray finger lingering on the texture of one the floral embossments of its curved armrests, and took a few steps to the narrow window next to the TV, drawing the red and tan striped curtain back to look at the city.   The sun had just reached its apogee, and would begin its decent onto the western sky.   From her room, she could see the downtown skyline behind Philadelphia's massive city hall with all of its European styled glory.   Its central spire rose hundreds of feet to greet her eye level.   She watched without focus, her breath coating the chilled glass.   When she spoke, it was without intent, with long intervals of silence in between.

   "You think anyone's watching this window for me?"

   "Perhaps, let them."

   "You think this is what Marilyn Monroe felt like?"

   "Probably."

   "Even when you know what's going to happen, you live in fear it.   You know it will happen, and you prepare for it on some level, it's still more than you can imagine."   Again, Grey tried to put his right hand on her top right shoulder to comfort her, instead feeling more like he was just hanging on for a ride.

   On top of the city hall spire was a bronze statue a few stories tall.   Even at this distance you could make out the details of the colonial formals he wore, and the parchment unrolling in his hand.   "That is an amazing piece of work...It's nice not to be the tallest person in this town.   At least he's not afraid of heights..."   The last drifted with her thoughts.

   "Don't tell me you are?"

   "I haven't figured it out yet...just never been this high up before.   It would be ironic though..."   Meghan sighed, and closed the curtain once more.   "You almost feel untouchable up here.   I know everyone is hustling, people are yelling, horns are honking, and none of it reaches this high."   She paced around a bit, while Grey took a seat in a striped chair, with more energy and time than she had anything to do with.   "I just want to go home."

   "We could trash the place."

   "What?"   Her head jerked in response to catch his look.   Not certain by his tone if he was being sarcastic.

   "Rock star style.   Isn't that what people like you are supposed to do?"

   "Maybe...maybe later.    My back hurts from the jail cell."

   There was a light rapping at the door that startled them both, Grey jumping like a cat.   It opened on its own and a stubby old man in a business suit along with a dainty young woman even shorter appeared inside.   It was David and Lia.

   "You just scared the bejesus out of me.   That was a neat trick you figured out with Gary.   He told me all about it."   The pair walked over to Meghan, shaking hands with her simultaneously before Lia took a seat on the sofa, tugging down her almost unprofessional length skirt as she took a perfect posture.   Meghan in turn eased onto the chair, not that she wanted to.   She had quickly come to realize that sitting was less imposing.

   "It was his idea.   It was divine intervention that he found me outside the courtroom.   I didn't even believe him until he showed me one of your boots."

   "And it was fun sneaking that around I have to add."

   "We had about five minutes to set this up.   Your guy here is both creative and persuasive.   He should have been a lawyer."   David gave a little bow, which Gary waved off in jest.

   "Nope, they have too many principles."

   "Wait, how do you get a key?"

   "Gary left me one at the front desk.   This room, after all, is on my business card."

   Grey winced a bit, as if trying on boots from his childhood that didn't fit so well anymore.   The discomfort sobered him as he spoke, and made him stand straighter and subdued his mannerisms.   Meghan both wondered and began to understand there was something new here, and she shuddered.   She was the only one to notice.   The others had only known him a day, and this was the type of person they were used to dealing with anyways.   David got comfortable next to his assistant, leaving Gary standing in deep thought, his arms locked behind his back, another thing new.   He eyes kept shifting through the room, but always returning to the television.

   "Were you followed?"

   "Likely.   It can't be helped in a city of this size, and the buzz will keep the narrative moving and off of our main problem."

   "Agreed."

   "So, how do we roll this out?"

   "Hold up, I'm a 'this' now?"   Her voice fell deep and sharp.

   "To everyone outside this room, yes," Grey replied, fingers interlaced behind his neck as he spoke.   "I know it sucks.   I know it's manipulative and you hate it, but we have to market you in essence like a Kardashian.   People adore them for what, nothing?   Being them."

   "This is bullshit Gary.   You promised that this would stop."

   "It absolutely is bullshit.   I do not make the world's rules, but your jury is right outside this window, and they could put you in prison for the next twenty years.   All they have are images of five black boys cut up, broken and burned in the hospital, and the race hustlers demanding justice and organizing marches.   We can't even tell them the truth, but their 'truth' is already out there."

   "Miss Moors, it's like I told you in the courtroom, we're revealing the truth in a way that people will listen."

   "I know, I know...I know.   I just...hoped, I guess, that with it being over, it would be over.   It's just...crap."   Hands squeezed her chairs arm rests, cotton yielding nearly along with the wood.

   "It can be, just trust me.   I will give up my soul to do get this done."

   "Who said I wanted you to?"   Grey ignored this, intent on his redemption.

   "So what can we use David?"

   "We can't talk about the case itself, that's a given.   And we can't talk about her childhood, rather not too much and not in specifics without getting her family involved.   Meghan wants to keep them protected."

   "Meghan, can you get in touch with them?"

   "For what, you want to exploit them too, Gary?"   Her arms, all of them crossed, she could barely look at him.

   "No, just to let them know that you're OK.   They must be worried about you too."

   "Sorry...I'm...David said they were gone.   I can try.   It's not like they can get in touch with me."

   "What about a scientific angle?   We set up a medical exam for her, to show she's normal," Lia spoke up, attempting to sit a little straighter up on the sofa.

   "Will it?" Grey responded.   "I think it will show the opposite.   Whatever the doctors and scientists say, people will be left with what they see, the freak factor."

   "And I don't much like the idea of being needled and prodded.   They won't quit either, and it'll get back to my family somehow for sure."

   "What if I were to start making the morning shows."   David leaned forward on the sofa, taking the others into his confidence.   "Start laying the groundwork for a counter-narrative."

   "Which ones?"

   "Any of them, all of them, I'll do a Full Ginsburg.   It will by us some time, and it'll the firm's receptionist off of my back.   Not even a day and she is promising to quit."

   "OK, we turn everything on its head.   We have a sensitive woman who just wanted to be known for her art because she knew what would happen, how people would treat her if they knew.   Give everyone a good dose of Catholic Guilt.   We make everyone see that she is one of them, that she does normal things like all of us."   Gary clapped at this in triumph, and Meghan though less about the words than why it wasn't David coming up with all of this.

   "Do I get any say in all this?   It's my life we're talking about.   Everyone out there wants a piece of me, and you’re selling it by the pound."

   "You have any ideas Miss Moors?   What don't you like?"   It was Lia again, looking truly concerned, which made the men refocus.

   "Do you feel this is not a fair representation of yourself?   We're not asking you to change who you are, that never works for long.   If you don't like the marketing angle, just think of it as cooking.   We need just the right embellishment to reveal your flavor."

   "Well, yes...David. I get that.   But limos, suites, that's not me.   I just want to go home and do my thing."   Meghan sat picking at a couple of calluses on her top right hand.

   "And you will Meghan, soon.   I promise.   Just give us a few days to set it up so when we return, you can get some peace when you get there." Grey tried a third time to touch her, and she finally responded, squeezing his hand gently in hers.   "Are you hungry?"

   "Famished."

   "Lia, can you keep an eye out here?"

   "Yes, Mr. Goldstein."

   "Great, I want to try this deli just down the street Gary..."   David rubbed his palms together, already on his way.

   The door closed behind them.   Meghan mumbled something under her breath, then sighed and tried to spin a leg over the armrest of her chair as she slouched into its corner, causing it to creak.   She shot to her feet in apprehension.   "I really don't like this plan."

   "They're a couple of alpha males, huh?   It's not in their genes to listen, especially to a woman."   Lea sat with her hands in her lap, watching Meghan as she wandered.

   "I guess..."   Meghan arched her lower back, stretching it with her four lower hands.

   "Try being four feet ten in these heels.   I'm everyone in the firm's little sister.   I'm 23 and people card me for rated 'R' movies.   I got asked last month it was my first time buying tampons, no shit.   But you..."

   "I bought my brother's first beer at fourteen.   At sixteen, and growing past seven feet, I snuck out that night.   It was one of my last times in public.   The cashier even knew who I was...it was a small town...and let me buy anyways.   I cried that night."

   "Not so different really, except for the fact that I weigh as much as one of your boobs."

   "Hah!   How do you deal with it every day?"

   "You just get used to it.   What else can you do?"

   "But you’re still normal."

   "I guess...my parents emigrated from Panama.   They were small too.   But when I think about the things they went through.   My dad worked seventy hours just to come home to my mom leaving, all of the sacrifice for us, to give me this.   It's not so bad."

   "You make my feel like I'm selfish or something."

   "You love.   People love you.   Gary might be getting carried away, but his head's in the right place.   He's a 'take charge' guy.   They drive you nuts, but trust me, they're better than those sackless college boys I keep ending up dating."

   "I wouldn't know," Meghan shrugged, "I don't get out much, but you know that."

   "When this is over, I'll take you clubbing or wherever you want.   We'll find you something."

   "I think I would like that.   And if that doesn't work out, we could do a ventriloquist show.   We'll put Jeff Dunham to shame."

   The men returned to find Meghan reclined on the sofa sleepy eyed, her legs over the opposite armrest, toes just touching the floor. She watch the television with Lia, talking quietly about the people and places it showed.   It left David and Gary both scratching their heads how the two of them bonded so quickly after the prickly dealings they had with her, one of the mysteries of the sisterhood.

   '...as something was thrown at her from the crowd, you can see here Moors getting emotional.   What does that mean Craig...'

   "I can't believe I did that, and that they're getting a psychiatrist to analyze it.   Gary, have you seen this?"

   "It's fine, better than fine really.   We can use that.   I got you four turkey cobb sandwiches."

   "Ohh, hand those over.   Cough them up.   I've got hands for them all.   They didn't give me much in holding.   I don't know if I more tired or hungry."

   "…and something for you, Miss Sitton.   Meghan, Gary and I were talking about it and we thought we might be going about this all wrong.   These people want to hear from you."

   "It seems that somebody has already tracked this little party down.   We were accosted by reporters on the way back, and demanded answers from."

   "On camera, what if your father finds you?"   She spoke through bites of sandwich, the others balanced on her stomach.

   "That's my issue. Right now we want to work on yours."

   "Miss Moors, we would like you to write a letter, an open message for everyone."   David broke in, his words spilled out a little more hurried than usual.

   "About what?"

   "Well, excluding the case itself, whatever you want people to know about yourself.   When you're done, I'll check it over so there's no legal problem and we'll send it off in a packet to the media."

   "I'm not much of a writer."

   "And that's fine, the more real it is, the better,” Grey replied.

   "I'll try my best."

   "That's all we want."

   Meghan was eager to get started immediately, then the dark blue titanium pen hit the legal notepad and the pen refused to write on its own.   The words came out in spits over many hours wound between small questions and large interruptions.   Room service came and went, and something formed in the spaghetti logic of doodles, winding arrows and phrases scribbled out.   Not that it was bad, more like the result of muscles little used.   Meghan insisted she was fine right up to the moment where she passed out across the sofa, much the way she had laid over it throughout the day.   Her bottom left arm had continued to doodle by itself on the coffee table right up to the last moment, once in a while writing a note responding to something she had heard said about her.   Lia returned late, and smirked in affection at the result as she slid Meghan's wrist off of the pad.   Another hour and the final draft was completed, to be taken for morning consumption.   The metal pen was left behind, now customized with teeth marks, along with the pad itself.   Hours later Grey would manage to rouse her into a daze enough to get her in something more comfortable and into bed.

   Grey woke in the morning light to the high pitch squeal of pipes on task and a seam of steam rising from underneath the closed bathroom door.   He could relate to this, spending several short spats in jail himself, and many longer ones sleeping on the grime of the streets.   His first thought was to join her, his second was to protect her. He could not help but chuckle as he grabbed the complementary newspaper from the hall.   The narrative had changed again.   Grey’s own cropped and blurry face was staring back at him. The caption above it in large font read, 'So Who is This Guy?'

   "Meghan, your letter made the morning paper," he yelled through the door and over the shower.   There was no response, and he continued to skim everything that caught his eye.   Minutes later there was silence, and the door finally opened, and Meghan walked out of a wall of back-lit stream in a white hotel bathrobe.   "Damn, you are hot girl."

   "Shut up."   Meghan might have been able to tie the robe closed if she could have managed to fit her other arms through the sleeves.   As it was now it hung open to her upper thigh, revealing all her hourglass cleavage and a hint of pink areola slipping past its cotton edge, its taut center pushing for escape.   Her lowest set of arms tried to hide the fold of her sex from underneath the robe, instead serving to frame it.   Grey, undaunted, tried peal the robe off, but his advances were smacked away on every attempt.

"Stop it...Just let me see it."   She was already motioning to hand it over with two right arms, her bottom set trying to pull the robe together at her waist.   "This isn't what I wrote.   Some of it is missing."

   "It's perfect though.   Lea had trouble puzzling it out last night."

   "But this isn't what I wrote!"   Meghan backhanded the newspaper.

   "Is anything changed, or just something missing?"

   "No...It looks OK.   But right here," she pointed at a line, "David promised to leave it alone."

   "It's probably just a legal thing.   You can ask him when we meet this morning."   Grey grabbed an arm, trying to pull her into the bedroom.

   "Why, what's going on?   And what are you insisting on in now?"

   "Oh, nothing much, but afterwards we are going shopping."   Meghan rolled her eyes.

   The four of them met just outside the suite.   Meghan wore a familiar blouse, jeans and boots, huddling in her bat-sleeved jacket.   The cleaners had done a good job with it, the scarlet blemish only discernible if you knew where to look.   David and Lia were dressed down a bit to match in slacks and button tops, him in a windbreaker, her in a suede jacket.   Grey was the last to leave, dressing up much the same in clothes Meghan had never seen him in before, a far cry from military surplus and torn jeans.   She had liked him in the former better.   He had stuck out, and did not care what anyone had thought of him.   Or had she just assumed that because it had felt that way with her?   Maybe it had just been street camouflage, just as this was now.

   The stir was palatable, falling to silence as everyone searched for the one that dominated them all, residing with them in that grand roman inspired lobby.   The four of them had been alone in the elevator, and each in their time had drawn a deep breath before its doors receded.   Only a few steps inside there had been a gasp so loud it quieted the rotunda and echoed off of the marble, even to the balcony surrounding a hundred feet away.   The pillars themselves she guessed were thirty feet high to the domed roof which climbed even higher, and in all that cavernous space her Amazonian body still stuck out.   Meghan wanted to crawl to the open space bar at one side, and upend a bottle of whatever had a chance to intoxicate her, but not even there she could hide.   Instead she tried to put on a smile, and managed to squeak a small 'hello' to the staff as they passed through a row of columns, a single hand from hunched shoulders tried to wave.   She had not come that way prior, but through a much more practical and quieter service route.   As they waited for David to return with their ride, everyone tried to get on with business.   Most refused to come close, and this hurt more than any insults they might have hurled at her.   Even insults are a form of engagement, a method to demonstrate that you are not afraid.

   A dozen reporters waited out front, just in case this was the right place.   They were rewarded that bitter January morning with the scoop as the trio stepped into a dark Lincoln Navigator.   David himself had pulled it around for them, in the intervening moments pulling the second row of seats down for Meghan.   This drive would be short at least.   As the buildings shrunk to her level, Meghan watched as they drove people in all their various motivations, and listened to the chaos of life, thankful there was some that didn't involve her, until they stopped at a old single story store front, with square pillars carrying a metal overhang, and a stone facade all around.   It carried the ambiguous name of ‘Antonelli's’.   It seemed that whoever this was, he didn't seem to feel the need to set up cheap window displays for the passerby, instead only the bleached backs of wooden displays. David slid out of the driver’s seat to free fall from that bestial machine to the asphalt, then opened the door for Grey and Meghan while Lia slid over to the wheel, and the three of them entered unhurried, always to the notice of others.

   "No, noooo!   I told you NO, out of my store!"   It was a white haired man with a throaty voice throwing his hands up against them from out of nowhere the instant they had walked through the door.   Except for his widow’s peak and white hair, both seemingly premature, he was unremarkable, except for a hooked nose between beady eyes, now wildly excited, and his delicate fingers.   The suit he wore was his calling card, and it was a sharp one if not extravagant.   His small store showed several more examples of his work, of which he only sold custom, on display over tall oak cabinetry along the walls of the store, along with fine shirts and ties among a few other kinds of the proper accessories underneath; the center of the room lie open, carpeted in burgundy.   A tenor sung quietly through an old stereo on a shelf behind a glass display case near the door.

   "Listen, Paolo.   I need the best."

   "No, you turn around.   I don't need all these jerks flooding my store."

   "Look at this, remember the last time we talked you said how bored you were.   Look at this.   I brought you the challenge of a lifetime."   David stepped to the side, placing Meghan in his path.

   "Hey!"   Paolo had not even made acknowledgment of anyone else until she had yelped in protest, agitation momentarily overcoming the sheepishness that cried in every movement.   She shifted her weight to her other leg as she took a slide step, glaring at David in annoyance; one of her hands seemed to want to flick him away.   Paolo became amused, and took a long look at her from head to toe and back, rubbing his short greying beard and clicking his tongue, which did nothing to help her agitation, but his eyes twinkled.

   "No, no.   I've seen her...you need a fashion designer."

   "I need a woman's suit for court.   I need your connections Paolo, and your hands, and your measuring tape."

   "It's not long enough."

   "You will measure up.   Do me this favor like I did your cousin."   Whatever leverage David had sought, it seemed to backfire. Paolo frowned as he showed his back, arms crossed.

   "My cousin deserved to have the key thrown away."

   "You will regret it forever if you let this chance walk out the door."

   "Please, look at my clothes.   I haven't had anything that fit me since I was a teenager.   You're an artist, like me.   You want to make things beautiful.   Please help me."   Meghan spoke in that small voice again, three sets of fingers interlaced falling below her waist.

   He looked her over a second time with a smirk that slowly formed on the corner of his lip, letting out a belly laugh when he had finished.    "Kelly!   Get me a complete inventory.   We have a job ahead of us!   For you, my dear, I shall for you.   It's not your fault you got stuck with him."   David could not restrain a snort as Paolo Antonelli flipped the sign that hung on his door to 'closed', forgetting to lock it.   Meghan was pulled into the back even more apprehensive than before by Paolo, wondering if she should have just kept her mouth shut.   He only slowed down enough to grab a wooden step-stool and an extra-long cloth tape.

   "My dear, have you ever thought about a dress or a skirt?"

   "Not often, they don't work well with sharp steel."

   "One would give you more give in the hips and more play in its length.   We'll get you set up with whatever you need, I know a lady that would be delighted..."   The two of them disappeared behind a cheap linen green curtain just as Lea came in through the front door.

   "It's already started."   As if to clarify her statement, a greasy thing poked his head through the glass door, craning to the left and the right, his eyes lingering on the trio before being pulled back through.

   "Could one of you help out back here?   My assistant is already being run ragged."   Paolo hollered from out of sight.

   "I got it.   You two are better situated to handle the crowd if something happens." Grey followed the muttering through the back finding a comfortable, small, well lit room among the inventory, an office that doubled as a space to handle high-value customers with discretion.   A clipboard with a sheet of paper was shoved into Grey's hands.   The tailor intended to work with efficiency and never stopped moving.

   "Take this down, 26 1/2" neck, 36" across the upper shoulders…should I double check…38” middle shoulders, 35” inches across lower shoulders…34" sleeves it seems...say, are your other arms this long as well?"

   "You know, I've never even thought to check."

   "...It seems that we have 32 3/4 for the...others, 23" around the arm, excuse me dear...no ulterior motives about...66" across the chest, 58" underneath."   Meghan blushed like Grey had never seen before.

   "Meghan, that would make you a what..."

   "At her height it would be the roughly the equivalent of a DD cup, actually two or three sizes larger, generous, but not absurd...37" waist, 54 1/2" hips.   KELLY!   How much of that Italian fabric do we have?"

   "Half a bolt!"

   "We don't need a real expensive suit."

   "Yes, we do."   Meghan chirped in, stretching one leg out, then the other, clearly enjoying the attention and finding it difficult to remain still.

   "We want nice and well cut, but we need something that people can identify with."

   "Let me just get this down..."   Paolo was fuming.   "...56 1/2" legs, again, no offense, 42" inseam and the thighs are 39".   He sat in his own leather chair, and rocked it back while waving for the clipboard.

   *Thoom, thoom, boom*

   "Get that please, I'm expecting someone.   How much do you weigh mam?"

   "How does that matter?"

   "I need to know for shoes.   I need to measurements for those as well, and my supplier will insist.   Your comfort comes first."

   Grey obediently worked his way through boxes and shelves, bolts of cloth and almost tripping over the leg of a portable steel rack in shadow, then a flustered assistant, to the rear of the building.

"478 pounds...last I checked..." Meghan took a quick glance around, noticing Grey was still missing. “Mr. Antonelli, can you check my height real quick?”

“Yes, might be a good idea actually. Here , step on the end of the tape.” It became something of a balancing act. He held the tape as straight as he could while attempting to keep the clipboard level with the crown of her head. “I would estimate you to be a hundred-and-four inches give or take an inch, so eight foot eight.

“That can’t be right. Damn you, Grey,” she grumbled.

   Grey finally found the steel door, slowly shaking his head as he listened.   Behind it was a woman that could have been the tailor's twin, her arm cocked to knock a second time.

   "Antonelli, Antonelli!   Where are you?"   She looked through Grey, and almost stepped through him on her way inside.

   "Over here Katherine!"

   "I came as soon as I could and...oh WOW!"

   "You can see why I wanted a consultation.   We need a full wardrobe in a hurry."

   "Oh, ohh...the things I could to with you Miss Moors.   I wanted a shot at this since I saw this beauty on the news."

   "Uhm, hello?"   Meghan seemed to shrink a bit at the enthusiasm.   He knees buckled in what in effect was a curtsy.

   "Yes, this just will not do.   Men's clothes...we need to make a woman out of you."

   "I had mentioned something like that to her."

   Grey slipped away quietly and sat with David, talking quietly with him for the next hour between incoming phone calls and the trickle of the bolder, or more desperate casing the store, some becoming visibly excited as recognizing the two of them, others passing away without.   Lea's phone hardly left her ear, and Grey took note not to underestimate her despite her size as he listened to her haggle the other end.   Meghan finally returned, turning and giving both of Paolo and Katherine a gentle hug before she was noticed by the others.   A strategy was quickly discussed and David escaped through the service door as Katherine left.

   There was no forewarning to what waited them outside until Meghan ducked through the doorway behind Grey and Lea, just that it would be bad.   The crowd was four deep and increasing, but everyone had a clear view of the latest fiery-haired idol, the six-armed goddess over ruling over her people.   There was pointing, with plenty of staring and hands covering mouths, as if that made the gossip OK, as if their sameness made them better, and validated their disgust.   It was everything Grey had grown to resent on the streets, but years of experience compressed into moments, and for a moment Grey was about to make a scene, until Both Lea and Meghan placed hands on his shoulders.

   "Moors, Moors!   Someone shouted in the crowd.   Some man with a mic swam through the crowd towards her.   Grey tried to get in between, but there was nothing he could do to shield her as the mic was shoved over his head.   "Miss Moors, what were you doing here? What do you think about all of this?"

   The crowd quieted down in wait.   Grey had flashbacks of being clubbed that first night he intruded on her, and forgetting his own anger, twisted himself around to Meghan, hoping to keep her from a repeat of that night.   He squeezed her lowest hands as she spoke.   "This is just stu...it's just silly.   Don't you have something better to do?"

   "Hey, I'm just trying to do my job."

   "And I'm just trying to get some clothes.   These kind people are just helping me find something that fits.   I have a problem with that.   It just should be a simple thing."

   "We gave you privacy, now we just want some answers."

   "Did you, did you want to, or were you just afraid of what might happen inside to you, alone?"

   "We're not the ones who have been living in the shadows."

   "OK, hold up!   If you have any questions, you can direct them to the office of McGowan, Shutet and Steppof.   Now, excuse us."   It was Lea, saving a scene by interjecting her small self in between, somehow pushing Meghan back out of a slight crouch.   Meghan's eyes were as fiery as her hair, and her face not far behind.   The crowd sensed that they would be denied again, and became noisy once more, the words that could be plucked out made little sense in the whole.   These words haunted Meghan as she climbed into the Navigator and throughout the rest of the day.   This was not to be the only stop of this day, but the first of several which mimicked it, and would leave her wondering why people with their endless variety seemed to keep asking the same things.

   Finally it was quiet, the television the only light and noise, a droning which they barely heard which said much the same words it had that morning.   Meghan held Grey on the bed they shared in their hotel room and tried to forget a day extinguished, running fingers absently through his short hair.   After today, she was more certain than ever that no one could really want this life of fame.

   "When can we go home?   I miss it badly.   I bend metal every day and I have never been this exhausted."   Her eyes lay leaden like the rest of her, head and shoulders propped up just enough to see the flat-screen.

   "We will in a couple of days, as soon as the first outfits are finished."

   "How come?" she yawned. Her head slid onto his chest, along with a couple of hands as she rolled onto her side.

   "We need you to look good, we're heading to Hollywood."