“If you’ll hand me another bottle,” 1 offered, “shorten Edward to Ed.” She handed it over.
By the time we got to the fourth bottle we were as thick as bugs in a rug. It seems that she was twenty-four, free, white, and single, and loved champagne.
“But,” she burbled fretfully, “I wish I knew what you were doing in there all hours of the day and night. I know you’re here at night sometimes because I’ve seen your car out in front.”
Mike thought that over. “Well,” he said a little unsteadily, “we take pictures.” He blinked one eye. “Might even take pictures of you if we were approached properly.”
I took over. “We take pictures of models.”
“Oh, no.”
“Yes. Models of things and people and what not. Little ones. We make it look like it’s real.” I think she was a trifle disappointed.
“Well, now I know, and that makes me feel better. I sign all those bills from Rochester and I don’t know what I’m signing for. Except that they must be film or something.”
“That’s just what it is; film and things like that.”
“Well, it bothered me— No, there’s two more behind the fan.”