CONTENTS

CHAPTER ZERO.3
(Monday, 30 January 2012)

“Msg to My Girl”

PART 1

Split Enz signals that summer in the Capital has arrived. “Message to My Girl” is everywhere on the parade where people reflect on their week and mull over options for the coming week as they read about their Sunday afternoon online in “WELLY STORY.”

Lunar Bois takes the bottle of sun block from the girl who’s half his age, a stripper who looks a lot like Aleisha.

It has been one of those ships in the night stories…Lunar, who had been in the strip club where he drank till around the cock’s crow, was waiting for a cab outside the joint. He was just reaching for the door handle of a taxi that had that moment pulled up when the twenty-five year old stripper, who had caught his attention on stage with her routine and dancing beat, appeared.

“Skill before skank,” she had said as she pushed her way in front of him. And then, once seated in the back of the cab, she said, “Just want to clarify; I’m a trained dancer; I do it ’cause I enjoy dancing….”

“No explanation needed—hell, who am I to judge?” Lunar, intoxicated, could be cordial, even affable.

“Hop in,” the woman had told Lunar….

Lunar places a hand out for her to put the sun block she was already offering him in his hand. The touch of her hand and the way she squints from the sun, looking up at him as she hides her eyes, causes a chemical reaction that Lunar finds hard to cope with. After battling with signals that beckon for spontaneity to take over, Lunar collects himself. He looks around the place like he’s just been spooked, as he takes hold of the bottle of lotion.

“Turn around; you need some on your back,” says Lunar, managing to salvage something from the moment by making the woman smile; then she pulls her shades down over her eyes and does what Lunar suggested….

Lunar has to place the bottle in his green shoulder bag as her body, resulting from his hand on her shoulder, begins to return ripples of energy like he felt at daybreak when their bodies were gripped in entirety….

PART 2

Aleisha lets the sun kiss her body when she takes off a thin cardigan. The Enz anthem floats across the promenade on the tip of JRA’s pen.

Aleisha thinks about how people, whom he chooses to trust, torment the writer online, and everywhere he goes. She finds it hard to believe that he still has the compassion to write her, or the character Aleisha, with so much empathy for her and what she might be experiencing, as everyone around JRA has betrayed him, bar none.

Across the street, boys from Europe, lean and clean-looking, act coy. In the middle of them is the African guy who asked Aleisha to dance at a nightclub last night. He notices her standing outside Freyberg pool where Aleisha has just been for a swim. She lost count of the lengths she swam after she lost herself in her rhythm.

Down the way, Latin men from the Greek and Italian communities strip down to sun themselves in their reserved spots on the waterfront, just an earshot apart from each other.

A local celebrity, a World Cup winning All Black, pulls up in his sponsor’s car. All heads turn as the athlete steps up onto the footpath. The Pacific Islander does his best to remember what his parents taught him as he bows his head, not for any other reason but to lower himself and his hulking frame.

Aleisha has seen the handsome kid around town a few times over the past few days. As he now arrives on his push bike, she again thinks he is too young for her. He tries his best not to notice her, and then he disappears around the side of the pool.

Further down the street, Aleisha spots one of the girls from the strip club. If she were someone who was excitable, she would’ve done a double-take as she recognised the man she’s with from John Reyer’s Facebook page as Lunar Bois.

Aleisha, having watched the GAME from a distance, can already understand the contradiction of terms for John Reyer when it comes to what he does. As a character, her next breath relies on someone reading the work; as a person, the thought of someone reading her next move is stifling, as suffocating as the numbers of those who log on. But JRA reels them in, using whatever he can imagine, and making them grow with their every thought….

PART 3

John Reyer watches as down the way Lunar Bois applies sun-lotion to the back of a woman who looks a lot like someone both he and Lunar knew.

Across the street, Aleisha, who looks grateful, enjoys the sun. She looks at peace on the parade, surrounded by people who check her out, but then they let the calm person be.

Hone reappears from around the side of Freyberg Pool. Behind sunglasses, the cool kid instantly feels the wave that drifts towards him as teenage girls in their groups gravitate to where Hone finds the most inconspicuous spot to survey the area.

Lunar recognises the change in atmos as all three characters—Aleisha, Hone, and he—are connected for the first time in the burgeoning tale he’s read online, even contributed to already, but he has yet to eyeball the writer or determine what his intentions might be.

JRA appreciates Lunar’s predictable ways. The stripper who would grace the cover and video of Hone’s music will also stir up the past between him and his friend, and play Aleisha at the same time. To a run-of-the-mill creative, it would seem like “Check Mate,” whether or not Lunar is aware of what it looks like.

But for John Reyer, it only serves to confirm that at least his friend is ready to play. The shallow move by Lunar says that Mr. Bois is still stuck back in some time where he is at the mercy of others, and what flashes in front of him, with little or no say on what happens.

Quakes, pipe dreams, and recurring nightmares have brought the cast together in the Capital if for no other reason than for JRA to pen their paths, which he must make intersect in a climax that satisfies all three….

The late model European car parked down the road reminds JRA that there’s always someone watching. Not necessarily bigger than the story and the platform John has nurtured from a seedling into a plantation of thought and feeling creating a past time that is fast becoming recognised as standalone medium, etfiction, or Emotional Techno Fiction.

John Reyer watches people check their mobile phones to see what he has thought of next for their pleasure as the lethal mind begins to dictate another memoranda of memories, marking a time they will treasure for the magical way one man can write a world into existence all on his own.

The ENZ anthem continues as Hone spots Lunar across the street.

Aleisha spots an area down on the golden sand as JRA continues on his run down Oriental Parade….

CHAPTER ZERO
(Tuesday, 31st January 2012)

PART 1

“I was like, good gracious…is bodacious
Flirtatious, trying to show faces…”

Nelly waxes lyrical for the city Lunar looks out over….

Hip hop, drum and base, metal and lounge for the cellar dwellers, and dub for the connoisseurs in the out of the way bars. The cumulative of it all is ambience that radiates from the bottom corner of the planet.

Night time in the Capital…Courtney Place begins to swell with people from the suburbs. Under shades of neon light, there’s just enough gangsta in the mix so tourists wearing labels from Milan, Paris, and far off places can smell danger.

Above the Neon blanket that pulsates—sending signals across the dimensions and ushering Ben Hana onto the next phase of his journey—Lunar Bois scans the area for signs of life—for someone he will find tonight to revitalise his existence until the morning light.

JRA has yet to respond to Lunar’s not so cryptic txt message about being “Irrelevant.” The leader of LMLA-ink has chosen a lean cast to pay homage to his hometown: First, a young kid with promise who will have the advantage of both Lunar and Johnny, having travelled the same path for the same dream—success and wealth, with a name to boot. Secondly, Aleisha, whose heart aches from many causes; she will share her journey for those who can relate, offering hope and strength for women in an empowering tone. John Reyer, who has cast himself in the mentor’s role, resembles a wise old head, grey with precognition; he will carve sinew out of the hardened hearts of those who still question the Cut-Throat Creative’s motives.

PART 2

“Hey, babe!” Backstage of the strip bar, Aleisha accepts a hug from a girl she knew back in Christchurch. Jazz is one of many who have made the trip north to Welly. The corridor of open doors leads to the stage. “It’s Hot in Herre” by Nelly lambasts Aleisha’s decision not to strip anymore. The visit to the club is a temptation Aleisha is confident she can handle. She wishes to prove to herself that the music, the stage, and the money no longer have any hold over her. She recalls being dressed in lace under dingy lighting, concentrating upon the movements of her body, while only hands, reaching out with bills, undermined her control….

“Like this!” Jazz, the girl in a pink swimsuit, holds her champagne in the air, as she shakes it for the other girls backstage who poke their heads out of their doors to see what the fuss is all about. Aleisha reads Jazz’s thoughts as the girl Aleisha recruited gives her the once over. The pounding bass thumps loudest when there is little or no other distraction….Aleisha remembers how good it used to feel to dance onstage, the creeps aside; it was the perfect job for the girl who was raised Catholic.

PART 3

JRA stands alone in the dark alley. The same alley he has lunch in, in the role he plays during daylight hours for the brothers Harris—Josh & Ben at Active Communications. In his day job, John applies skills from another life as a Team Leader in a direct marketing campaign promoting the wellbeing of New Zealanders in a government initiative—the ENERGYWISE programme by EECA.

Suited up in the ceremonial black suit, he watches the action down on the street as he keeps an eye on the office, which is in a high-rise where Lunar disappears from view.
Footsteps from the left, apparently coincidental, sound ominous from a particular slant in their stride for the guarded man who stops looking down the lane to the busy street and looks straight ahead—his way of saying “I’m cool,” with whatever.

The figure that passes by in front of him is none other than his male lead, Hone, who is dressed in black skinny jeans, shiny pointy boots, a black t-shirt, and an attitude that affords the kid in the fashionable role the luxury of ignoring his creator.

The lean figure ambles adequately down the dark lane to let JRA know he knows someone has got his back.
JRA reaches into his suit pocket for his mobile phone. He makes another quick glance up at the office to check for signs of Lunar before he sends the chapter in his head to the press for release.

Lights from the left erode his view of the work on the small screen as he sees that Hone has made it to the end of the alley where he looks back, and then he joins the wave of people on Courtney Place.

The late model European car from the parade the other day rolls by….For a moment there, it felt like it would stop and whoever was behind the tinted windows would get out and make his point clear. Instead, it slows down enough to let JRA know he’s been noticed, and then it keeps going.

Brake lights on the back of the car as it reaches the top of the lane are in time with a synthesized circlet that truncates a musical phrase; underneath the hook, the bass counters the musical notation—a metaphoric question….Nelly’s Leader Loop thumps, painlessly for the wave of followers down on the street, effortlessly for the strippers inside the club, and glibly for the leader of LMLA-ink down the alley as he releases the LATEST UPLOAD.

CHAPTER ONE
(Wednesday, 1st February 2012)

“Sexy Eyes”

PART 1

Listless aim strains Lunar’s brain as he lifts his palm across his eyes to make sure he is still alive. The smell of the woman’s hair across his chest holds him for a second till he turns his head and sees the state of his office.

The punching bag blocks his view of the door, which the clock on the wall tells him will receive a pounding just minutes from now.

He moves and feels the leather couch grease from sweat under his back. He lies still and lets his arm fall to the floor as if he’s already been defeated for the day. His arm falls on a half-empty bottle that his nerves, on edge, attack when he catches the bottle before it tips over onto its side.

Lunar lets the bottle, firmly in his grasp, drop, till he can feel the drink cool the neck of the bottle as he looks at the ceiling. The woman, still spent from last night, moves, causing Lunar to look down and place his chin on his chest; he soon becomes conscious of a double chin he imagines, and not the least, the frown he might be pulling, all of it caught on a camera his seedy boss has planted somewhere in the office.

“Mr. Bois! It’s Monday morning. Reality waits for someone to tarnish it, or make it perfect like an art-house movie that only I have seen….” Lunar hears a voice coming from where he expected a banging. He finds his mobile phone in the couch, which has left its mark on his back. Lunar runs his fingers over the indentation in his skin as he keeps an eye on the door; he has heard a voice coming from its direction; he is still holding the woman, whose name now comes to him, in his other arm.

The bottle on the floor is in Lunar’s peripheral vision. The woman he holds wriggles, and then she nestles into his chest.

Nek minit! Lunar has the bottle in hand, having dropped the cellular phone on the floor; it begins to play the cheesy song that JRA decided for whatever reason would be the theme to the opening chapter.

“I was sitting all alone,
Watching people get it on…”

The ensuing moments look after themselves in the story about the story being written. Lunar, in the morning, has a different woman in one arm, and a bottle in hand….

PART 2

Aleisha clicks the link from JRA’s Facebook page. She doesn’t dare click “Like” on the original source code that’s circulated by so many other peddlers. The Dr. Hook hook “Sexy Eyes,” which John Reyer uses with panache in his avant-garde parade of prose, makes more souls swoon and works like an aphrodisiac in the former player’s hands….

“Facebook’s allowed. Post positively about your boss. LOL….” Aleisha removes her earphones in time to let her new boss know she appreciates privileges—one of them is Internet access….“No sites blocked; even public toilets,” the family man confirms for the Ad Agency’s new receptionist with a Dad joke. “Speaking of which, your first assignment is to let Mr. Bois know that it’s Monday morning in reality….” The head honcho looks down the end of the corridor, where it’s dark….

Aleisha hears the theme song for the chapter through the slit in the reflective doors, upon which she sees her reflection. On the other side of the door, there could be any one of the body types that went into the pool of possibilities the others were discussing in the staff room this morning, ranging from “A young thing with brain that you wouldn’t be able to see under a microscope…” to “MLF with falsies” and “Once bitten, twice shy now has barnacles….”—the contestants for the sweepstake for who is in Lunar Bois’ office this morning.

Aleisha goes to knock on the stainless steel door, but then she pauses and looks at the aluminium floor. The tread plate’s design meshes with what twizzles around inside her brain as she looks for what she will say to the creative Mr. Bois. “Mr. Bois! It’s Monday morning. Reality waits for someone to adapt it for a romantic comedy. Four stars at the video store and a little statue in February….” Aleisha, who has acted all her life, chooses a character who is not so bright that she’ll steal the limelight, but not so dim-witted that she’ll make a perfect crochet tea cosy in a caffeine-fuelled world run by barristers.

***

Earlier in the morning…

When he looks, Hone can see them in her reflection on the elevator’s mirror doors. The two of them share the elevator in silence, save for the music of Dr. Hook playing on the small, tiny speakers in the lift.

Hone looks straight ahead. The woman who might be in her twenties, who moved into the room across the hall last evening, has the most exquisite eyes. Hone straightens the tie he wore, especially for his first day at the office, just to have something to do. The muted spectrum of sound from the ’80s tune that plays—as if this were a bad ’70s movie—matches the subdued ride to the ground floor in the slow moving carriage, which smells of backpackers, budget type people, and those who don’t yet know where they want to go.

“Hone, my name’s Hone.” The kid who prefers to keep to himself runs over in his head what he would say if he felt like saying something to the woman with the sexy eyes.

The ride comes to an end, and the doors to the elevator open, wiping away his view of her. He hesitates to let the woman go first, and then he looks at the ground, as if it will conceal what he was thinking, not to be mistaken for manners.

He watches the woman as she disappears out the front door of the hostel, happy for some reason that he will be seeing her again in the near future.

Immediately, his mind goes back to his new job, with which Lunar Bois has hooked Hone, who gained above average marks for his NCEA Level 3 years at secondary school.

“Working in a call centre in your gap year has its merits….” Hone reviews his decision to choose the call centre over a labouring job, one of Lunar’s other options for Hone.

PART 3

Cuba Mall on the morning of February 1st 2012, the last year on the Mayan calendar, is a hub of activity….

Homeless people, who look like members of Dr. Hook in the air, occupy a park bench that JRA walks by. The weight of the world seems to sit comfortably on the shoulders of the Network’s playmaker, whose latest look would buy him a ticket for a seat on the park bench.

“Coinage, Bro…Got some…eh?” A homeless man on the bench calls out in an accent, which underpins a socio-economic status, to the writer who is still scribing in his head as he walks. John Reyer plots the story about the story being written—LMLA-ink’s (pronounced lum-lah ink) penchant for the whimsical that cloaks the dismal reality of how the SystemSpectacular really works for the operatives everywhere. The Poet Soldier takes another thoughtful stride, which no one can disrupt—not even the needy for now.

“I was sitting all alone,
Watching people get it on
With each other….”

Outside Plum café, the Cut-Throat-Creative enjoys the ambience made of mothers and their young ones who scramble over the green reptile under the slide, drunken as it would seem from the vibe in the atmos. Brisk walkers, with caffeine in their veins, and sleepy office workers, with Friday on their minds, pass by on hump day on their way to their day, already infected by the infectious buzz their every orifice absorbs.

Tourists, with open minds about what their destination has to offer, scour the cobblestoned walkway for signs of anything ethnic, for a story to tell when they return to their pristine homelands.

A couple, perfect in each other’s eyes, walk by. A couple of businessmen, suited up, pose as the writer, and talk loudly about a deal they’re on their way to close. A lithe model, whom JRA has seen on the cover of a local rag, glides by followed by a couple of Hones; a Pākehā version and a Maori one.

An Aleisha, with a burly looking Lunar, whose eyes follow the way Aleisha’s hips swing, darts away when he notices JRA standing outside the café, making the middle-aged guy run his hand over his bald head, which reflects in his wedding ring.

John Reyer turns his back on the scene as he steps inside the café to grab coffee on his way to his day job.

The city he was raised in, and for that matter, the country his parents migrated to from Samoa back in the ’50s has responded to his story about the story being written on the streets of Wellington, in the LATEST UPLOAD of “WELLY STORY.”

CHAPTER TWO
(Thursday, 2nd February 2012)

PART 1

“Ducked downtown in a local bar
Drinking rum and smoking tar
People there really put you down
Ooh babe you been dancing round…”

Lunar watches as the woman in the purple passion dress leaves the juke box behind, pushing herself away from it with the tip of her finger. She plays with the hemp choker he bought for her when he found her in the shop in Cuba Mall twenty-two hours, two minutes, and twenty-two seconds ago. Dragon’s voice is singing out of the juke box, in the downtown bar, at lunch time, trying to figure out what to do with the woman whose name comes to him.

The new receptionist from work shows her face at the door of their local—the place where staff from the medium size agency come to eat, drink, backstab each other, and then pat each other on the back, if and when someone wins an award that’ll bring in new business. The receptionist who came to his door today finds a table as one of the art directors (A.D.s) shows his face at the door, like a dog on the trail of a scent he checks to make sure the coast is clear. On spotting Lunar down the back, the A.D. smartens up his act as if he were just popping down to the bar for lunch and heads to the bar, ignoring Mr. Bois to Lunar’s relief.

“Aleisha!” Lunar calls out to the hippie chick, who dances like flame in the wind all on her own in the middle of the dark bar, lit only by daylight from the front door and the tall windows facing Courtney Place. The dancer smiles as she excuses Lunar’s behaviour.

At a window table, Aleisha tries keeping her eyes on the menu. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Mr. Bois and the woman, whom they had to call security to remove from the premises, dancing in the dark, her silhouette haunting especially when Lunar calls the woman whose name Aleisha found out was April Sun, “Aleisha.”

PART 2

Hone steps into the lift of the hostel after a long day at the office. The door closes as the tinny sounding speakers begin to try and belt out “I’m Still in Love With You” by Dragon. The orangey carpet with brown flecks casts a Hefner kind of hue in the carriage with mirror walls that start from where the carpet ends about mid-thigh. Hone goes to turn so he can check himself out in the mirror behind him, when someone on the outside of the elevator makes a run for the doors that are just about to meet; slicing through the thinning gap, the hand that appears reopens them.

Hone leans on his side as if that were what he was up to when the doors were opened up by none other than his new neighbour from across the way, which for lack of a better way to describe her, looks like someone’s sister—not too hot that she’s stuck up, and not too homely that she’s a stick in the mud. Like your best mate’s sister, you have to place a limiter on what you think of her.

The doors go back and there she is. She doesn’t move, and Hone suspects that it’s his side on pose, and so he stands up and takes a sideways step.

After a day at work, the woman gives Hone a better idea of how old she looks. Still, her sparkling eyes smile when she maintains her blank look for whatever reason; the expression surprises Hone, who is aware of how the opposite sex perceives him.

Hone looks at the elevator control panel, his way of reminding the woman about the doors, which begin to close again. This time the woman lets them close.

Inside the lift, Hone remains silent as Dragon on the tinny speakers reminds him of parties at his uncle’s place back home. The woman, choosing not to enter into the elevator after seeing it was him in the lift alone, bothers Hone—but not on a superficial level—he checks anyway when he lifts his arm and smells under it—but on a deeper level relating to one’s character. Had he weirded her out this morning? He swears she was looking back at him in her reflection in the door….

PART 3

As he enters into the bar, JRA turns backward the flat cap that his sister Shalleen gave him just after he shaved his head on Christmas Day. Word has it that Lunar Bois is in the building.

The place is filled with young people, men his age with dyed hair seated closely to their young mistresses who act as secretaries. And a bevy of hot horny women in their prime, dressed for power congregating over a drink after work. In the background, Kiwi music levels molehills into sands in an hourglass. John Reyer recalls a misspent youth serving the many whims that make life wonderful—a youth that provided plenty of observations for a future storyteller, as well as the opportunity to be a character back then; for a moment, he is blissfully lost in the alms of oblivion.

In the back corner, he can see space in the packed bar. John makes his way through the crowd; some look at him and offer up a half-hearted smile to let him know he has every right to do what he’s doing, and that they’re pleased to have their prodigal son home where they believe he belongs. Others graciously ignore him, and every once in awhile, hearty laughter breaks out.

The shy person reaches the back of the bar where he discovers the reason for why there was space there.

“The assortment of stories in this place…” John Reyer says as he looks around the bar. He places his hands on the table where Lunar Bois is face down asleep. Slumped over top of Mr Bois is April Sun with her arm wrapped around him as if to keep him warm or protect him from something.

CHAPTER THREE
(Friday, 3rd February 2012)

“Run”

PART 1

Lunar runs his hand over his head. “Nothing to Lose” by The Adults is heard throughout the city and accompanies the pounding in his skull. In the corner, standing where the door would conceal his presence in the office if anyone of the staff were to venture into Mr. Bois’ office, is JRA.

The Cut-Throat-Creative had talked Lunar into leaving the bar and then sent April Sun home in a cab.

Lunar looks at the corner and it’s definitely him. Older, the devil in him greyed out somewhat, but the smile is wilier than ever. The guy, whom story has it once won a million dollars in a card game on a yacht out in Wellington harbour without so much as a pair, stands with his hands behind his back, mimicking that his hands are tied; JRA’s preferred state gives his opponents a false sense of security.

“Padre has cam on me, Johnny….” Lunar says as he rubs his head the other way.

John Reyer smiles as he sees that his old friend is still the same. Stepping out from the corner, JRA walks around the heavy punching bag as he looks at it. “The dents suggest that you’re frustrated….”

Lunar reaches for the bottle that John Reyer swipes from in front of him and replaces with a bottle of water.

“Hole in the Wall, 10 p.m.…Hone’s expected to give a performance. His first performance! And his manager is hung-over in the arvo….nice, very nice….” John Reyer’s condescending tone could bring on a physical attack by his friend, who has been known to snap for lesser reasons.

Lunar stops rubbing his head. “Do I suit the bald head look?” Lunar sounds almost timid as he asks JRA about his new look.

“Very thoughtful…for all the bald heads out there….Love it, man,” JRA hides his comedic timing behind his poker face.

Lunar nods his head like a child who has just explained the reason for why something happens in a particular way as JRA opens the door to the ensuite for Lunar to go get ready.

PART 2

Aleisha waits for the next song in the dark alley that envelops her fear with familiarity. She has no backboard for scintillating and sheer misgivings. She tries clutching at strands of her spindling faith in her mission for a new life. Inside the club, she leans back on the bass that navigates the foundation; it throbs the ground, and it throbs inside her, deep inside her.

“On my own…” the song goes. She’s run to this place from somewhere she has nothing to lose. Close to midnight, a time when she should be in bed asleep or wrapped up in someone’s arms, she’s here outside the strip club.

Today, Aleisha’s past caught up with her. Or, at least that’s the way it seems according to the “WELLY STORY.”

“…Don’t waste your lies on me
Cause I got nothing to lose…”

The Adults’ song, “Nothing to Lose,” speaks to Aleisha when she considers JRA’s intentions; he spoils the fairy tale for his leading lady already in the story-about-the-story–being-told.

Aleisha silences the commotion in her head from taking the Cut-Throat-Creative’s word as gospel.

Painstakingly, over a bottle of wine, over the course of five hours, the confused woman had dressed and undressed herself provocatively and then seductively, and then back to provocative as she made up her mind to say, “Fuck It!” in her room.

Aleisha spots where the back door to the club is. She pushes herself off the wall. The Welly wind reminds her of how free her previous life was; it blows a gust that allows whoever is in a car, which turns into the alleyway behind her, a free show of her shaved legs and arse as she walks towards the entrance to the club.

PART 3

JRA, Lunar, and Hone enter the hole in the wall on Vivian Street. Jon Toogood’s legacy on the sound system makes John Reyer, an autochthonous Wellingtonian, feel like Shihad never changed their name to Pacifier.

Hone, lean with a clean jaw line, turns heads as the kid makes his way through the crowd.  

Lunar shakes hands with someone who wants to see Lunar’s discovery and what the kid’s got to offer, while JRA recognises members of the three-piece setting up on stage, which seems like a little rectangle window to the past, in a door John Reyer closed some time ago. His foray into the music business this time is purely for his lead character Hone’s sake and to assist Lunar in one of Lunar’s passions and that is to find the next big thing.

Hone steps up onto the stage as “Run” by Shihad fades, bringing in the crowd, which is in anticipation of what the high school kid from up north, who definitely looks the part, is going to sound like? Lunar Bois doesn’t talk someone up like he has done with the singer merely known as “Hone,” unless he’s something special.

Hone grasps the mic stand, and in an instant, it becomes symbol, making the stand a sleek object he desires. Shaking the mic free, he creates atmos, collecting feedback from the PA that sends tingles up the spines of the knowledgeable Wellington crowd made up of industry insiders and people who will spread the word about the good-looking Maori boy with a voice.

He hadn’t seen his neighbour at the hostel since she decided not to take the lift earlier in the evening. When he left to come out, her bedroom light was on….The spotlight warms Hone’s face as the drummer counts down and then the guitarist comes in followed by the bass in a fusion account of the song that was playing previously. “Run” by Shihad, a Wellington Icon, is a hard act to follow, but, “If you can pull it off, it’ll create the buzz we want for you….” John Reyer had told Hone on their way here tonight.

Hone feels the warm fuzz. “It’s like a hum” he’s read as he accesses the telepathic relay, the F3quenzor. The artist on stage zeroes in on the woman who needs him, but who rejected him on sight this afternoon as he applies his voice to the words of the song:

“On the rising tide
Rollercoaster ride
As the truth descends
You choose not to ride again….”

JRA senses something special in the making as his male lead takes the audience away to another place and time. Lunar stops talking to his contact who ignores Mr. Bois….

“…So you run
Watcha holding on…”

CHAPTER FOUR
(Saturday, 4th February 2012)

PART 1

“Midnight Marauders” by Fat Freddy’s Drop is mixed in to fill the void left after Hone has finished singing. He now steps down from the stage, where he is amongst his audience, who are silent. The adrenaline he thought he would need is nowhere to be felt. Instead, a warm sense of self releases a wee smile for his new fans, who are still in awe of the kid from Ruatoria. Hone bows his head when he finds JRA’s face in the back of the full house.

Lunar Bois runs over the storyline so far. It’s the perfect distraction he requires to wet the well that has run dry for him. Lunar was once considered the most articulate minimalist in advertising.

JRA is already heading for the door. Hone follows the leader while Lunar quickly hands out his business card and apologises for their hasty exist. Then he hurries to catch up with his talent, who has vanished into the night.

PART 2

“Take my eyes
That I could be so blind
I did not see…”

Synthetic apologies swirl around in the wind, and then a sympathetic saxophone convinces the heart to let the storyteller have his way. Dallas Tamaira AKA Joe Dukie, front man for Fat Freddy’s Drop’s voice in “Midnight Marauders,” is empathetic even in the small speakers outside the Oaks Complex.

Aleisha takes the leather jacket the freelance writer hands her. The kid from the elevator at the hostel is Hone, as she’s just found out. Lunar Bois, fresh from her day job, is surprisingly normal at this time of night as the four people who accidentally met up at the corner of Cuba Mall and Dixon Street walk down the street together.

Fat Freddy’s Drop’s smooth tempo pursues the wearisome mob of which everyone wants to be a part as they turn into a café.

Inside the café, lit by the neon sign in the window and flashing lights on a pinball machine, two Goths play; each with a flipper, they sneer at Hone, who finds a table down the back. Lunar stops to chat with a table of people from Hone’s audition while JRA orders coffee.

Aleisha stands in the middle of the café. Her arms are folded in the leather jacket she thinks about taking off, but then she thinks better of it. The jacket now feels like a shell she crawled into when she bumped into JRA & Co. That was after something told Aleisha to run, like the silver ball in the pinball machine that rolls across faces, and then bounces off judder bars….

Hone, unable to believe the evening’s events which he tries to knock to the back of his mind, focuses on getting up for work five hours from now. Aleisha’s legs, which JRA’s leather jacket only just covers before they ascend to some place he chooses not to think about, present an obstacle for Hone.

“FREE GAME!” announces the synthesised voice on the pinball machine as it delivers to the Goths their prize. The flashing lights and sound of the machine wake Aleisha up. She decides to follow JRA down the back to where Hone, who seems much older because of the way he is dressed, sits at the table.

Aleisha walks past a table of younger women who are whispering about the kid down in the back corner of the café where he looks like he has a handle on everything. The girls at the table each give the older woman walking by the once over, and then they make a point of letting Aleisha know what they think as JRA pulls out a seat for her.

PART 3

John Reyer, a cagey guy at the best of times, tries to conceal his delight from having brought his cast together for the first time in the story about the story being written.

It’s like they’re various gifts meant for a parcel. The parcel will be delivered in a cardboard box. “WELLY STORY” is bursting at the seams, and he somehow has to hold it together with one arm as he looks for tape—the storyline—to wrap the whole thing up. Meanwhile they, the characters, are watching him like his audience, each one of them expecting a surprise when they open the parcel at the end.

In the window to the kitchen, JRA sees the silver European car behind him out on the street, as it pulls out of the parking space without its headlights turned on. John Reyer checks for a reaction on Hone’s face, but there is none. Lunar is none the wiser, while Aleisha just seems relieved to be here.

“Midnight Marauders” by Fat Freddy’s Drop seems appropriate for the way the cast of JRA’s latest masterpiece has come together….

Click play….

CHAPTER FIVE
(Sunday, 5th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar waits for JRA, who says goodbye to Aleisha at the door of the hostel. The same silver car that pulled up in front of the café slows down at the green lights. The number plates say the vehicle was reregistered since landing in NZ.

The driver, whoever he is, has something to say to someone from the way he stops at the lights. A cab coming down Vivian Street causes the silver car to take off. Lunar’s blood begins to boil, and then he hears his mate’s voice from up the street.

Things happen when his mate JRA is around—new stuff, which the Cut-Throat-Creative is constantly scheming to find ways to bring to the mainstream via his shopfront of etfiction, which is nothing more than a website to which he nonchalantly posts links on the New Global Realm, making his operation look like a hobby.

But JRA’s presence also drags up the past—those who want to know what John Reyer is up to now. Word that JRA has been involved with the Network all these years, including times when they knew him as a night club DJ, or just an average Joe, or a petty criminal, change their views of him.

PART 2

Outside the hostel’s doors, Aleisha takes the leather jacket off and hands it back to John Reyer. John looks up the side of the building where he sees Hone’s light come on.

“He’s a good kid…gap year, just looking for an adventure….” John Reyer’s words get carried away in the wind as Aleisha waits for something she knows will not happen.

“You better get inside; it’s cold and it’s late….” JRA fills the uncomfortable silence with one of his sensible suggestions. His latest distraction—whom Aleisha has worked out to be a writer in the U.S.—is a single mother, suggesting that the former player has opted out of the game. “For now…” Aleisha says as she holds the bottoms of her skirt before she stops staring and turns to make her way up the steps to the front door.

Down by the lights, the silver car is back. Concerned about Lunar’s reaction, John waves to Aleisha, who stops at the top of the steps and turns around. The car takes off just as the lights turn orange. “Have a good day…” JRA calls out as he walks quickly to where Lunar’s head follows the vehicle as it turns right onto Taranaki Street….

Upstairs, the elevator door opens. Aleisha keeps her eyes on the ground as she steps out into the corridor, which lights up, beginning with the nearest wall light, and then it dominos down the passage. She becomes conscious of high heels and how arced they are as she steps quietly on the carpet. Under the door, she can see that the room opposite her room is dark already. Aleisha finds her security card from inside her bra and slides it down the reader on the wall. The clunking sound of the door being released by the lock threatens to wake someone. Once inside, Aleisha stands with her back against the door. The evening, which had started out terribly when something spooked Aleisha, has come full circle. Still not quite sure of what it was about Hone in the elevator that freaked her out, Aleisha takes off her heels as she sees a notification on her laptop on the dresser of the LATEST UPLOAD, by the guy who must be still downstairs on the street.

“Your favourite food
What you like to do…”

The theme song for the story-about-the-story-being-told reminds Aleisha of her goals as she sees the sun through the curtains.

PART 3

John Reyer wakes to another day, which includes delivering a slice of his creation for those who live off his dream, then working as a telemarketer, and then back to the drawing board for the architect of the malleable aspiration he shares unselfishly with everyone on the walls of the New Global Realm.

A small quake rattles the building. It reminds JRA of those in Christchurch who have suffered much worse and his female lead Aleisha, who must be getting ready for her day job after a challenging night.

The streets of Wellington are alive in daylight. The bright coloured regalia of fans on their way to the Westpac Stadium, known as the cake tin, make the town look more like the set of a Peter Jackson film than a city of civil servants. Marching Girls, forty Sperm who stop the traffic when they perform the Haka, the A Team, a Purple Peter Pan, and Hare Krishnas just doing their thing, are just a few of the ingredients spread out on the streets of Welly, which has turned out to be a fine calm day for the first day of the IRB Rugby Sevens.

JRA posts the LATEST UPLOAD on Facebook and then he gets ready to take the story to another level.

CHAPTER SIX
(Monday, 6th February 2012)

“No One….”

PART 1

Lunar reads over the copy for the client he angles so he can see what he’s written in the neon glow from the city beneath him…

“Congratulations, you made it
Welcome to the crusader”

The voice of Scribe, coming out of clubs, cars, iPods and on the waves of the F3quenZor, makes the city bounce in syncopated synchronicity from LMLA-ink’s treatment, which will put an exclamation mark in the city’s history, the time when JRA came home.

Lunar Bois has decided to listen to JRA’s suggestion of creating a dummy campaign in the “WELLY STORY” as his comeback.

“The clients and their products exist in Wellington some years ago. Take what we need like Office, Google, the Internet, mobile phones, Facebook, Gen Y attitude, PayPal, and YouTube, and let’s go back to a time when none of it existed….” John Reyer, who once thought he wanted to be in advertising, sometimes surprises Lunar with the clarity of his ideas….

Lunar sends JRA a message using his new “Ne0—Memoir,” with customised interface for all the applications he requires, giving him full functionality for Microsoft Office to all the Adobe Suite of products including Photoshop on his phone. It also has numerous means for wireless connectivity to slave devices like the TV on the wall, which Lunar uses when he quickly mocks up concepts of logos for the dummy brands. The make-believe companies and their products include “Ne0 TeleWorld,” a giant Telecommunications company in partnership with PayPal, in which JRA supplies the Network and partners with a company like Nokia or Samsung to produce the phones, and PayPal bills the end user. In addition to Lunar’s phone—“Ne0—Memoir” made for the Executive—there is Ne0—Sliver which will compete with the iPhone, and Samsung’s Galaxy. And then the “Ne0—Black Box” which could be the surprise hit of the new range of phones with the crowd whom stats never talk about, the ones who just want a “Phone.”

Onscreen of the HP “Plateau” on Lunar’s desk, Malo Luafutu AKA Scribe, also of Samoan descent like JRA, along with MCs Savage and Con Psy, play up online again a decade after the phenomenon began. The song “Not Many” reminds everyone that LMLA-ink’s second coming is no accident, that the mystery is in fact a whodunit! Who created the phenomenon? Who else?

“…How many dudes you know
Who got the skills
To go in and rock a show like this?”

PART 2

Hone nods his head to Scribe as he enters the club on Courtney Place. A line of girls from the poster and TVC, walking abreast down the footpath, clear everyone in their path on their way down the street. The black metallic cans in their hands get snapped up by bystanders as one of the girls spots Hone.

Hone stops as the doorman shrugs his shoulders. Hone finds an excuse, and then he quickly comes up with a reason to counter the excuse as to why he can’t stop to talk. The girl waves the can of %) at him like a shiny object in time; the semantic image makes Hone, who is ready for a big night out with the boys from the office, thirsty.

Hone senses his Ne0—Black Box on his hip before it goes off. He goes for it as the woman dressed for a festival runs to where he is. Hone takes the call, hoping it will deter the girl, who now stops close enough in front of him that he can see his reflection in her eyes.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Hone says into his Black Box, with answer pads on both sides of the minimalist’s phone designed for those who live on their phones; the Black Box has quadruple casing for durability and protection from radiation, with the lowest peak and transmit power on the market.

Hone hangs up. “It’s JRA….” Hone comes up with something to say that will hopefully divert the girl’s attention. “Aww, where’s Aleisha?” The grinning girl asks Hone as she forgets about the can of %) she holds behind her back as she begins rolling her shoulders side-to-side.

Hone looks around the girl at the can of %), reminding her of her job. “Oh! Sorry! Here’s your can for the night before and the morning after; everything that happens in between is part of the story-about-the-story-being-told….” The girl launches into her spiel, making Hone laugh.

“Very cool. Did you come up with that?” Hone jokes….

“Actually, I’m a marketing graduate, I’ll have you know. But no, damn it! I didn’t,” the model finishes as a bus passes by with the marketing spiel for %)—an energy drink—on the side. Hone holds out his hand for the can. When the girl hands it to him, she doesn’t let go ….

***

Aleisha pays her bill online for her Ne0 TeleWorld plan, which includes her sleek Ne0—Sliver phone, unlimited calls to other Ne0 mobiles, 20GB of data which she can use on her mobile and laptop, and it’s billed to her PayPal portal that integrates all her bills now from her phone and Internet bill to her CharleyStevonsen online shopping account.

She sees that she has accumulated enough TeleWorld minutes from the previous month that PayPal will redeem for cash, or she may gift them to a TeleWorld Pal. Better still, she can use them at CharleyStevonsen for a top she’s had her eye on.

A notification of the LATEST UPLOAD flashes on her Sliver, and then it appears on the bottom corner of her Dell “StoryBook” Laptop.

PART 3

JRA takes his flat cap off. His grey hair and messy beard reminds one of a De Niro type character. The method writer has already agreed to terms with the Network for his next look later this year in NYC, in which he will change again to a look he had back in the ’90s.

JRA is already resigned to the fact that the “MAPP—it” concept or “Narrative Marketing,” which uses the story-about-the story-being-written as an advertising platform will not get off the ground in his hometown, in real-life at least. The storyteller now resorts to “Plan B,” which is to deliver the best story using dummy products of his own, when no one in New Zealand is willing to help him out with getting his Online Ad Engine off the ground.

In the headphones, Scribe, streaming from YouTube, asks the same question again that JRA asked himself back in the infant days of the new millennium:

“How many dudes you know
Who got the skills
To go in and rock a show like this?”

It makes the Cut-Throat-Creative hungry. The new fast food chain that has approached JRA to design it a campaign comes to mind. Lunar’s throwaway line “Hooters meets McDonald’s” seemed to have caught the owner’s attention. And now he will have to come up with something that the public can digest. “Would You Like Me With That?” abbreviated “WYLMWT” pronounced “Wylm-Wit,” seems to go down nicely. Buxom babes in wet t-shirts dishing out food add value to the experience when they ask you, their client on the other side of the counter, the company slogan….

John Reyer snaps his fingers twice to get his own attention. Watching Mad Men has given him an insight into how the world of advertising operates. His own life experiences and those of his characters are being mixed, blended, and then folded over, again to further the story-about-the-story-being-told.

JRA’s Ne0—Black Box flips on the desk, and then it lands face down from being set to “Jolt” as opposed to vibrate. When it flips again, John Reyer swipes the device before it hits the desk. He opens the message from Lunar with logos for the dummy brands.

Onscreen of the Lenovo “Machine” and in his headphones is Scribe:

“…Uh uh, uh uh,
 I don’t know anybody…”

JRA relaxes for the moment as Lunar Bois begins to shows signs of one side of his former self, with which JRA can work. The reprieve affords John a chance to answer the question “How many dudes you know…?”

“No one….”

CHAPTER SEVEN
(Tuesday, 7th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar is bent over the turntables out on the balcony of his office. People on their way to work smile as they look up at the damned dome that desires nuttin as it nods in another world. The city walks to the Soulful House Session September 2011. Mothers walking their babies to school, pretty women in tight dresses, wiggle their way down the streets in the most stunning high heels; next to them is some lucky dude. They are happy people, blessed by the atmos administered in their hometown for the first time since its inception—a GUIOPERA on the New Global Realm by JRA, the former DJ who continues to hold them on the dance floor made with words.

One of Lunar’s outlets is when he gets behind the turntables. It’s not an act of showmanship for the mean creative, as he’s known when he isolates himself from those around him, especially when he is in creative mode. The people on the street just happen to be the benefactors of Lunar’s ironic behaviour when Lunar decides that his balcony overlooking the city is where he’d like to be alone.

A new client has requested that Lunar look after them, which is odd since the agency doesn’t let him near any of the clients anymore; it only comes to Lunar when it has to, which has been only on two occasions over the past quarter. And on both occasions, Mr. Bois saved the day and added a swag of awards to the agency wall. On both occasions, Lunar didn’t have to face the client, and a young creative took the credit—information to which only the boss, the young creative, and Lunar are privy. All the conceptual work was done in private.

PART 2

Aleisha checks that everything on her new desk is in place. She places a lone phone to her left, and then to her right, before she decides that it belongs in the middle to accentuate symmetry.

The music from Lunar’s office is loud enough to drown out the sound of the lift arriving. Out of it step agency staff who have be trained to ignore Mr. Bois and his wild ways.

“LOL.” Aleisha hears the head honcho around the corner, where the staff quickly disappears.

Aleisha counts down the boss’ steps before he reaches her desk. She could do with the can of %) in her bag, but that would be a terrible look for the frontline person of an agency like the one she represents.

Aleisha feels at home in her seat at her glass desk, which is the first thing anyone sees upon entering the Ad Agency. The HP “Wall of Touch” behind her, which was installed over the weekend, is her new computer; the boss is here to show her how it works, she presumes.

“Minority Report…” The boss shouts to be heard over Lunar down the hall where he cuts his eyes as the voice recognition on the wall picks up his order. Aleisha turns in her seat to see the beginning of the Tom Cruise pic on her new computer. “That’s your training manual…and here, go buy yourself a new handbag; make it a tan Louis Vuitton….” Aleisha looks down at her soft white leather handbag from Farmers. And then she looks at her sheer CharleyStevonsen blouse, and her tight-fitting tan skirt, which flares out mid-calf and goes with her tan heels, and she gets the boss’ message.

“Oh, and while you’re out, pick up coffee; that stuff’ll kill ya…” The boss makes reference to the can of %) he can see in her favourite bag.

“It’s actually all natural…” Aleisha goes to say about the can of drink in her bag. But the boss is already gone. Aleisha places a hand on the VISA card he left behind on the glass desk….

PART 3

JRA stands on the corner of the street. Up on the balcony, some storeys high in the sky, is Lunar Bois. The music—coming from the stack of speakers on either side of the rig, like Le Mac’s in the old bar in Chinatown, NYC, on the balcony of the high-rise—can be heard on devices everywhere, if not already in the air. A young woman with coffee in hand passes by with earphones plugged into her Ne0—Sliver, which connects to Lunar’s Ne0—Memoir, mounted on the speaker stack so its line of sight, which takes a USB feed from the mixer provides a better experience of the concert-like performance by Lunar in the sky for the young woman who appears to be on her way to Uni.

A group of women in uniforms on their way to the office spot Hone crossing the street, and then JRA, who smiles at the way the women respond to the story….

“Morning. I didn’t think it would catch on like this….” Hone hands John Reyer a coffee. “Thanks to you,” JRA returns the thoughtful kid’s compliment as the two of them watch Lunar on the balcony.

“Were you both DJ’s?” Hone enquires about the past.

“We worked as a team…Lunar would warm them up for me…And then I’d make ’em sweat till they needed a drink….” In a rare moment, JRA shares with Hone what it was like back then.

“Did you know my parents?” Hone figures that it’s as good a time as any to ask the burning question.

“What do you think about Aleisha?” JRA dodges the question, as he’s known to do, with a question of his own. “Think about your answer, which you don’t have to give me anytime soon….” John Reyer ends the conversation before it began.

CHAPTER EIGHT
(Wednesday, 8th February 2012)

“YOU’RE JUST ANOTHER PART OF ME”

PART 1

Lunar watches JRA onscreen at his day job, as John Reyer chats to someone about having insulation put into his home. “…It’s an end-to-end solution; the heat pump is only effective in terms of efficiency if the insulation is up to standard—hence my call. Now let’s see if what I have to offer applies to you…”

Lunar remembers a campfire story about the person onscreen who seems to be living the dream of the simple life he never had. The story was about a fight in an alleyway to pay back a gambling debt of close to twenty thousand dollars, which the Cut-Throat-Creative won, adding to his reputation back then….

The whole world watches JRA as he does what he does, which includes giving life to Lunar himself. It makes his friend of many years seem like one of his own characters, just more amazing when you consider how the high school dropout has created the Perfect Scarce Loop, for which he will be forever remembered for his antics on the Internet, probably in the same light as Shakespeare is for what he did for the stage.

PART 2

Hone sorts through the wooden crate of spices on the bench next to the oven in the hostel’s kitchen. Over in the corner behind him are two Swedish girls who are having a ball trying to figure out what to add next to their dinner that has gone up in smoke, threatening the smoke alarm, which Hone turns and glances up at; then he smiles for the two cooks in shorts to cover up his contentious side.

The German guy in the other corner watches everyone like they’re characters in the thriller he has open on the bench to read from as he cooks sausages.

The sound of heels on the floor unconsciously straightens Hone’s back. As the heels enter the spacious kitchen, Hone squares his shoulders. The heels head for the fridge he shares with his neighbour he hasn’t seen in a couple of days.

The oven on the other side of the bench to Hone’s left is suspiciously vacant. An offer by someone at work to move into an apartment is tempting. But the chance to live in the same hostel where JRA once stayed, and in the same room the writer occupied for six months, is too good to give up.

Hone decides on the spice to go with the chicken for his chicken sandwich as Aleisha appears at the vacant stove to his left.

The LATEST UPLOAD, which JRA had mentioned to Hone would be a defining moment in the story, hits the walls of the New Global Realm. The mega download will probably break records when JRA comes clean about who he might be. Obviously, it will be in time with his application for entry into the U.S. Its appearance takes the edge off the first time Hone and Aleisha find themselves alone since the elevator.

“Love this song,” Aleisha smiles as she holds her Sliver in two hands like she needs to in order to experience fully one of JRA’s memorable moments.

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Hone pretends he’s not excited about the upload that he hears people throughout the building exclaiming over as they connect directly to John Reyer Afamasaga’s Facebook page for more….

PART 3

Seven-thirty p.m. JRA waits for the Island Bay bus, number 1, to take him back to Berhampore, the suburb on the outskirts of the city out front of the Redding Cinemas on Courtney Place.

Across the street, Michael Jackson plays on the speakers outside the Grand.

“You’re just another part of me…”

The Cut-Throat-Creative thinks of Metofeaz Litigatti’s influence on Michael Jackson, the greatest performer in history, back before Michael went and bought the rights to his friend Paul McCartney’s songs, which was when all the troubles began for Michael.

Story has it that Michael invited Litigatti to a meeting to see what he could do for the “Cause,” as it was known back then, which says what kind of guy Michael was. Most of the artists chose not to know about the Network, but Michael wanted to see who was behind the curtain. “You’re Another Part of Me,” was supposedly Metofeaz’s parting line in the meeting with the great one. A letter from Michael a few days later, jokingly stressed, “YOU’RE JUST ANOTHER PART OF ME, not the other way around,” and was signed “Jacko.”

JRA considers his options for GUIOPERA V, which he hopes to perform in the Big Apple later this year if his Visa for the U.S. is not declined. Paris, or London, or even Barcelona, or Rome becomes an option for the traveller. The streets of his hometown are a buzz from his handiwork. Beautiful women and guys who look like actors parade past the cool head that once ran operations of a similar size, only he was not seen in those productions. Names like Jackson, Bono, Bowie, Sting, Madonna, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, George Michael, Elton John, Duran Duran, Bobby Brown, and Paul McCartney were the faces and voices that presented the message to the world. Most of them had only heard of the Cut-Throat-Creative, John Page, Litigatti, Le Mac, Zoop, The Guy, and Lazoo.

The bus arrives as the quintessential front man for the Cause, from across the road where his presence is still felt, intersects the “WELL STORY” and the end-to-end saga.

“…The planets are linin up
We’re bringin brighter days
They’re all in line.
Waitin for you
Can’t you see...?

JRA waits for the woman to board the bus as Michael a TRUFUNK Soldier reminds him that he at least has to try and make good on his promise one day again to play in the U.S. of A:

“…You’re just another part of me…”

CHAPTER NINE
(Thursday, 9th February 2012)

“Kissed the girls and made them high!”

PART 1

“…I’m not so systematic
It’s just that I’m an addict
For your love…”

Aleisha stands in front of the “Wall of Touch.” Toto plays. The boss has decided to play Lunar on the turntables on the office sound system; it makes sense, giving the noise from down the hallway some credence, giving the chaos some civility, and placing control back in the leader’s hands. “A smart move,” Lunar responds when he finally appears from inside his office.

“Who’s DJing? JRA?” Aleisha asks without looking around at Lunar, dressed in a suit a la JRA, with his arms folded, unsure of what he’s watching. An hour glass figure stands in front of the monstrosity of technology, which fires brilliant colour through the Genisis Jones “top.” Aleisha is the perfect model for the piece of clothing as she tries figuring out how the giant computer works.

“Very funny….Go to something you know, like the New Global Realm….” says Lunar, offering Aleisha a clue.

“So, no sleep-over last night?” Aleisha throws another left hook that Lunar couldn’t have seen coming.

“That should find its way in, I’d say. So enough of the submissions, and tell me how you ended up in Welly?”

Aleisha brings up JRA’s Facebook page. The profile pic is of Lunar Bois, but JRA—a man of many faces—took it of himself—the former operative for the time being—shaving his head for the picture so that it looks almost identical to the man standing behind her; so identical that Aleisha has to turn around and take a second look. JRA’s move has convinced Lunar Bois that JRA was serious about doing something together. No one knows the real reason why JRA decided to invest the time in the story with someone like Lunar, whom most people regard as a has been.

“Use the logon, ...@etfiction.com....” Lunar tells Aleisha, who’s still smiling at him.

“Post something…” Lunar dares Aleisha. “Like what?” Aleisha’s ear-to-ear grin is indicative of how she feels right now, giving her an insight into how Lunar works.

“Hell, I don’t know; you’ve seen Polina, Lazoo….” Lunar is careful not to let the moment fall.
“Look the other way,” Aleisha giggles as she pretends she’s one of the characters in the story-about-the-story-being-told when she posts the song now playing—“Georgy Porgy” by Toto:

“…I’m not so systematic / It’s just that I’m an addict / For your love…”—Aleisha <3

PART 2

“Do you think he knows what’s happening?” Aleisha asks Hone, who is seated across the long table to which the German guy pulls up a few chairs to Hone’s right.

“He’s retarded if you ask me,” the German guy says as he places his novel face-down on the table and then his plate of sausages beside it. His accent makes him sound intelligent—an observation of JRA that the poor guy thinks is what Hone and Aleisha, whom he does not know, would want to hear. “John le Carré, now there’s a writer…” The German guy pauses as if his words mean something. “So you admit he’s a writer?” Aleisha asks.

“He’s a performer, an actor,” Hone says, looking at Aleisha and ignoring the person to his side whom Hone said hello to twice already without so much as a look from him.

“Ah, so you believe that he knows what’s going on?” Aleisha words fall on deaf years as Hone looks at her, but he thinks of the post on JRA’s Facebook page by “Aleisha,” which had the peculiarity of slashes separating the lyrics of the song, something JRA never does.

“Even if he does, what can he do? I’d do exactly what he’s doing.” Aleisha senses antagonism in Hone’s voice.

“What say he did set it all up, and everyone’s doing exactly what he wanted them to do?” Aleisha tries to get next to Hone to understand how he’s feeling, which is obviously not what he usually displays in front of everyone.

“See, he is a retard,” the German guy reminds them, to which both Hone and Aleisha respond with a blank stare….

PART 3

RA reads the email from Micé, his muse.

“what? i cant help it that i have a cute bf”

He responds with:

“didn’t realise that delusion was contagious? lol”

To which the author, who is hardworking like JRA, replies:

“Then, trust that I know what I am talking about. xxx”

JRA sends the woman, who gets the Cut-Throat-Creative a link to the theme to the chapter for no other reason than that when he listens to it, it makes him think of her, the following lyric:

“Georgy porgy, puddin pie
Kissed the girls and made them cry
Kissed the girls and made them cry
Kissed the girls and made them high!”

CHAPTER TEN
(Friday, 10th February 2012)

“Feel Like Making Love”

PART 1

A conductor is what the person at the “Wall of Touch” on a Sunday afternoon looks like. Maybe even a painter as the creative creates to George Benson. Aleisha’s face from her Facebook page flies across the plane of no return—once it’s imagined, Lunar’s vision is brought to life when he masks the low res file, and then he adds effect from the Photoshop gallery so it looks like it was meant to be ridden with rot. The end result? Something David Carson could not corrode himself into an earthy rust that resembles decay and from which a poor girl is made into something not so memorable, but still she is adored by women who want to be her, but would never speak to an Aleisha….

“He’s got you going, hasn’t he?” Lunar hears the voice from behind him. It takes Lunar a second to register who it is, and then a few more to think about his response to his boss, who’s caught Lunar working on the dummy campaign in the story-about-the-story that’s come to life on the streets of Wellington.

“Just throwing a dog a bone…” Lunar tries to sound blasé as he continues working on a poster he promised JRA.
“I know how far back you two go…and in actual fact, it’s a good look for us right now….” The boss surprises Lunar, who is not known for his tact and strategy.

“He wouldn’t go for it…He has to have full control! Like me, but only he has Bill Gates for a left brain….” Lunar tries his best to extinguish any thoughts that the agency head has of using him to get to his friend JRA.

“I’m going to use Aleisha in a campaign…the Bendon campaign.” The boss’ announcement stops Lunar in his tracks.

“Is that meant to bring the wheels off, or bring the house down?” Lunar turns around to look at the boss in his golf apparel, holding his gloves.

“I played golf in these, and then I used them to drive here,” says the boss, sounding serious.

“Business and pleasure mix well when your handicap doesn’t handicap you…play a bit. Bendon wants to meet you and Aleisha tomorrow morning; see if your good mate can write that one in….”

PART 2

“Walking in the dark
Seeing lovers do their thing…”

Aleisha breathes in the February air, an easy breath when she closes her eyes and imagines what it would be like as she walks through the botanical gardens. Roberta Flack, through earplugs to her Sliver, keeps Aleisha company as a couple, the woman Aleisha’s age, pass her by with their hands in a tangle that only lovers know how to get themselves into.

A wedding party follows the bride through the gardens to where she would like the photographer, who likes JRA, to take a picture of her. The page boy looks like the bride, which makes Aleisha feel like crying. Meanwhile, the groom, who has two flower girls who like him, gathers the boy and the two girls up as he stands back. The look on his face is memorable for how handsome he looks in his suit, but unforgettable compared to how much he adores his bride.

PART 3

The silver European car pulls up across the road. JRA takes a sip of his beer as he wonders what the driver really has to say. John Reyer—a person who has people from all walks of life and statuses, ranging from upstanding to those who are honest even behind your back, to vouch for him and his integrity throughout all of his lives, above board, and under his various guises—relaxes. The days when he would walk over to the car, armed or unarmed, and put his fist or foot through the window, and then drag the person behind the tinted windows out from hiding and pummel him in broad daylight until he’s unidentifiable are long gone John Reyer tells himself. “Long gone….” As he takes another swig from the white Steinlager can.

“Hidden camera euro style…you’re not to admit that you know they’re there…” Lunar’s voice is a welcome distraction since JRA is well on his way to figuring out where on the window he would hit as not to cut himself—the point where all the particles concave, so they would perfectly give in to the precise amount of force, and with which part of his knuckle or elbow he would use to smash the glass without hurting himself.

“Where’s the poster?” JRA asks Lunar. “Well, good day to you too, and how are you?” Lunar retorts. Lunar’s good mood goes someway to break the hold the silver car’s appearance has on JRA.

“They want me to do a face-to-face.” Lunar sounds pleased with himself. JRA, a benevolent dictator, but a dictator nonetheless, takes his time to absorb his friend’s good news.

“They’re also going to use Aleisha as a model in the same campaign.” JRA’s forced smile becomes strained as he tells himself and then Lunar, “That’s what this is all about….” John Reyer quickly adjusts to the spanner the Agency, which pays Lunar’s wages, has thrown into the works.

“Funny thing though, massa hints, or should I correctly translate the meaning of his play—dares you—to include it in the work….” Lunar, someone whom JRA trusts implicitly for all his inventiveness when it comes to ideas, still possesses the foresight of a child when it comes to dealing with suits in his line of business.

JRA looks at his Ne0—Black Box; the wires to the ear-shells resemble a winding river on the table. JRA accepts his friend’s good news as he comes up with an idea he throws at Lunar to take back to the boss of the Agency. “Say you’ll do it, meaning I’ll think about giving him space in the story, if he lets you work on the dummy campaign alongside the Bendon campaign. Plus...!” JRA stops staring at the vehicle across the road and looks sideways at Lunar as he continues with his terms for the deal. “All agency staff get new Ne0 phones!”

It still amazes Lunar how his pal is able to manoeuvre in and around seemingly immoveable barriers thrown down in front of him. Or, is this how it really is in the big bad world of business, where players rely on each other to realise a move and respond according to the calibre of player who select him- or herself for such GAMES?

Lunar watches as the Cut-Throat-Creative stands up. Another provision for the deal comes to mind as women, young and old, appear at the lights across the street.

“Also, I want to see a glass fridge in the foyer, one of the first things you see when you come out of the lift. I want it stocked with %)!”

John Reyer plugs the ear-shells into his ears, as one last demand comes to mind. Louder, from having George Benson playing on his Black Box, he states, “And the wardrobe is exclusively CharleyStevonsen with Bendon underneath….” JRA lays down the law as he begins to walk up the street. He takes a few steps, and then he stops suddenly and makes a beeline for the car that’s been bugging him.

A taxi coming in the opposite direction blocks JRA from crossing the street. The silver car slowly pulls out of the parking space in an almost teasing manner, and then drives down the street, where it cruises through a red light…. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN
(Saturday, 11th February 2012)

(movin’ through Kashmir)

PART 1

On his Ne0—Memoir, Lunar watches the pics of JRA as he makes his way through town, hugging the shop windows in which he glances at his reflection, as one after another is uploaded. Careful with the information from John Reyer that he has for the head honcho who should be arriving at any minute, Lunar runs over intonations of how JRA would deliver the order, which Lunar believes he must make palatable.

Downstairs in the warehouse, three talented musos, whom Lunar has signed up as members of Hone’s band, wait for their lead singer to appear.

“So what have you?” The head honcho’s voice surprises Lunar, who is known to drift so far from reality that an elephant can walk into the room without Mr. Bois noticing.

The boss is dressed casually, but somehow he doesn’t suffer from the “Dad look” most middle-aged men have when they dress down, or the opposite of looking like a lad with Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome, depending on the man’s taste.

“He wants in…a couple of requests, but he’s there!” Lunar decides to test his theory that it’s a game and the boss wanted him to bring in JRA.

“And they are?” the boss asks as he produces a white Steinie can of beer, which he tosses to Lunar.

“Ne0 phones for the agency, a fridge of the energy drink as you come out of the lift, and CS as the label of choice….” Lunar is not yet finished as the boss cuts him off. “Already there, LAZOO lean,” the meticulous man points at his jeans….

PART 2

Hone opens the door to the practise room, a warehouse painted white on the inside. In the corner are a group of girls his age. He checks his Black Box for the time. The drummer belts out a beat. His dreadlocks counter his nodding head behind the pearl kit.

The bass player, who looks like one of the Booya Tribe, picks up his five string bass, and begins to thumbwhack to the beat. The guitarist, a backpacker from Berlin and staying at the hostel, lays octaves over the bed already made.

“Jazz meets funk meets metal,” the lead guitarist has told Hone. The guitarist, with a degree in economics, now begins scaling the neck of his axe like Jimmy Page, triggering the bassist to begin to lay a pulsating line for the drummer to transform to as Hone spots the mic stand.

The txt msg Hone has been waiting for arrives.

“Running late; sorry…be there in 5,” says the message from Aleisha, whom Hone invited to the jam.

Hone steps inside and closes the door. He calculates the distance he has to walk across the floor to be roughly fifty meters in front of a handful of people. He wipes his sweaty palms on his LEAN Lazoos as he dives into the hardest part for the shy kid, getting to the stage. Once there, the spotlight blinds him from noticing anything beyond the fold back.

PART 3

JRA watches the video of the tight ensemble, with Hone on lead vocal and keyboard, as it streams from Lunar’s Memoir via Adobe After Effects. The impressive rendition of Kashmir by Led Zeppelin ends and a voice, which must be the boss’, calls out in the background, “We want him for the jingle…”

John Reyer Afamasaga, who is used to things not going his way, suddenly feels like he’s lost.

Aleisha, in the corner with a flower, looks happy when Hone walks over to her.

JRA thinks for a moment about erasing the chapter—and escaping to the SenFenide Dimension where he has his way, with no one to answer to—as he replays the theme to the LATEST UPLOAD he will send, come what may….

“…Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace
like thoughts inside a dream
Heed the path that led me to that place…
My Shangri-la…I will return again
Sure as the dust that floats high and true
—when movin’ through Kashmir….”

CHAPTER TWELVE
(Sunday, 12th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar, Hone, and the freelance writer at the bottom of Cuba Mall—the three men who carry the hopes of many—stand in a huddle; they touch coffees. India Arie, in a swirl of melody, guides souls along the path towards congruency. The catchy tune is now well ingrained on the membrane of a new world, in which anyone can makes memories who is caught up in the “WELLY STORY” and who watches the story unfold on the walls of the New Global Realm that JRA was born to create. His mother’s words, “One day, you will have to heed the call…,” which she kept reminding her eldest boy about before he learnt to crawl, keep playing in his head like a narrative over the top of the theme to the “WELLY STORY.”

Lunar raises his cup to his long-time friend. “Uaina would’ve been into it?” Lunar Bois confirms for JRA what he sometimes struggles with, whether his mother would’ve approved of his work and how as the Cut-Throat-Creative—a name his mother hated her son being called—Johnny has to manipulate a no-win situation into a WIN-WIN for him and those his mother taught her son to turn the other cheek towards.

“Yeah, my mum would’ve loved this song. Actually decided on it being the theme when Shalleen played it at the batch….” JRA deflects Lunar’s compliment about the story thus far as he credits his sister for giving him the idea for the theme song when the family spent a couple of days together at a house on the beach up in Raumati, just north of Wellington.

Lunar spots Aleisha up the cobblestone walkway by the bucket fountain. “Here she is, the new Genisis Jones.” Lunar seems relaxed as he watches Aleisha, who is about to get a huge surprise at work today, make her way down Cuba Mall. People from work walk by; Lunar waves to them as they ignore him.

“I doubt it.” JRA’s tone is dour…. “You come up with your own campaign for the underwear, go anywhere near the characters, and you’ll fucking well know about it!” JRA maintains his smile. Lunar looks at the ground with a smile of his own to mask that his friend has just hurt him. Apart from the fact that Lazoo and Ms. Jones are spokespersons for CS, it would be like Kobe, or Mike….

PART 2

Aleisha spots Hone with JRA and Lunar. Hone had cooked her dinner last night, fish he skited; he learned from the eBook JOHN LAZOO how to cook perfectly; the food melted in her mouth, and he even went so far as to buy the right wine to go with it. “If you don’t have the maestro’s attitude, you might as well be cooking fish fingers,” the kid said.

It’s definitely a crush, Aleisha admits, regarding Hone’s behaviour. But for what reason she can’t imagine since Hone doesn’t seem to have any hang-ups or give off any weird vibes, apart from that first time in the elevator, which was after a long day at work. He doesn’t let slip any derogatory views of women; nor does he overdo the fact that he respects women. Still, the years don’t add up for the woman who thinks JRA’s experience and cool way is enough for her to live off even if it is from a distance.

John Reyer smiles from his soul as he shares something with his good mate Lunar, a new man. The wave from the brilliance of one man spreads like wildfire on the wing of a song that YouTube streams for JRA, who sees himself as a servant of the people. His fans include the likes of Brad Pitt, Marshall Mathers and his daughters, and Oprah. But none is a greater fan than his eldest nephew, Teddi, who now knows that his uncle John knows the “Secret,” which hopefully he will share with the next generation who carries his mother’s air of graciousness.

Aleisha sees people from her work coming from JRA’s right. The girl who manages the Bendon account stands out in the bright orange CharleyStevonsen “GO” Marilyn Monroe dress, “GO” for “Genisis Orange,” a colour Lazoo and Le Mac in NYC want to patent. The dress only appeared on the online catalogue this morning, making Aleisha think, “Wow!”

PART 3

Hone watches on as the two friends wait for the other to say something. He counts down from ten in his head to when he will let JRA know he’s not only agreed to sing on the jingle for the campaign, which the boss of the agency boasted he will get JRA to write at the practise yesterday afternoon, but Hone has also agreed that he will appear in it.

Lunar’s smile is evil as he watches Aleisha somewhere behind Hone’s back. Hone can see Lunar’s expression out of the corner of his eye as Aleisha keeps walking along under the canopy of shop awnings. JRA’s smile is natural for an unnatural situation in which he is obviously upset when the cast of characters he assembled for the “WELLY STORY”—one of the tasks on their job description was to endorse product for his Online Ad engine MAPP—it—appear to have defected to work for the “MAN,” for a lack of a better expression, Hone imagines.

“By gones?” Lunar offers, still with his eyes on Aleisha, who turns right at the corner of Dixon Street.

“Did you say Big Ones?” JRA is quick to take his friend’s peace offering.

Hone breathes easy as the two fighters, both with a temper, touch coffees again before Lunar heads off after Aleisha, disappearing in the morning bustle to get to work.

“I want to sing on the jingle,” Hone tells the writer, whom Hone knows depends on him.

“Ask your manager. But thanks for letting me know….” Hone decides to listen to what JRA tells him as opposed to trying to figure out what he meant.

“By the way, how are things with Aleisha? You know that she’s old enough to be your mother?” Hone decides that he will try and figure out what JRA means for what he just said, quickly changing the subject by asking John Reyer, who is known for his wisdom, a question that’s been on Hone’s mind for a while.

“By the way…” Hone hears himself as he mirrors his mentor’s manner. Hone clears his throat as if he were some thirty years older than he is…. “Why didn’t you acknowledge Waitangi Day in “WELLY STORY?” Hone asks JRA, one of those guys you can guarantee an answer from for the ages.

“A Treaty means a war preceded it. A war means one side invaded the other. I enjoyed the day off…wrote about you, Lunar and Aleisha…and thought about my mother….”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
(Monday, 13th February 2012)


PART 1

Lunar listens to Hendrix, and then Kravitz, as they do their take on “American Woman” by Canadian rock band, The Guess Who.

Misconceptions that the tune is a chauvinistic attack on the U.S. are ironed out by The Guess Who bassist and co-author of the song, Jim Kale, on Wikipedia.

“…we came from a very strait-laced, conservative, laid-back country, and all of a sudden, there we were in Chicago, Detroit, New York….After that one particularly grinding tour, it was just a real treat to go home and see the girls we had grown up with. Also, the war was going on….John Lennon once said that the meanings of all songs come after they are recorded. Someone else has to interpret them.”

Lunar Bois takes down the punching bag in the middle of his office. The boss’ distinct knock on the door is a welcome reprieve as Lunar, right this minute, prefers being in the here and now.

The door opens and the boss slides through the narrow gap that he allows himself—a habit he has formed from a past experience when he pushed the door open with a client by his side to find Lunar and a woman engaged in sexual intercourse in the middle of the office floor. Needless to say, it worked on that occasion when Lunar called out, “Close the door…researching…” which the lubricant company thought was quite a pitch by the agency….

Lunar lets the bag fall to the ground, letting the boss know that even in his approachable state, he’s not about to get back on his hind legs to play the perfect pet. The thud on the floor gives the boss a bit of fright. “I’ll sit when told to, but I won’t roll over….” Lunar thinks of something to say to keep the boss silent. His appearance inside the office is enough to confirm that things are as amicable as they can be.

“Rumour has it,” the boss begins to speak his mind, making Lunar Bois simper because he’s already figured out that what his boss has to say will concern JRA.

“That guy has a lot to say…or, is Rumour a scorned woman? In which case, I’ll take whatever Ms. Rumour has to say with a grain…” Lunar pulls out his phone and begins tapping out a txt, which he then shows the boss before he sends it, making the man smile.

“Bendon?” The boss’ smile says he’s satisfied with Lunar’s play thus far….

PART 2

Aleisha waits for the elevator in the high-rise’s foyer. Agency staff lounge on the sofas to mooted atmos from mood music with models who must be here for the Bendon auditions being held in the agency for the Real Life TV doco style TVC. All of the models are gorgeous and tall, wearing Aleisha’s favourite things from CharleyStevonsen, accessorised by Louis Vuitton, and carried off by sassiness, with support from the brand that can “Bend-On” every body.

A loud distorted guitar is deafening for the mellow movers in the foyer, who take a second to collect themselves and their chai lattes they almost spill. The sudden arrival of the music and appearance of Lenny Kravitz on the big screen at the end of the foyer turns heads like it was scripted. Standing in their way is Aleisha, who for whatever reason, wasn’t at all surprised. With all eyes on her and nowhere to hide, she slowly slides her hand inside her Louis Vuitton tan handbag for her Neo—Sliver. The former stripper feels stage fright in her new environment, where the same thing happens. Only, the audience gives the act performed by models, and not dancers. Some of them are hooked on dope, not unlike some of the models she’s read about when they consent to bare skin. The lift arrives for Aleisha to escape the scene. Inside the lift, where Lenny Kravitz also plays, she quickly finds JRA’s wall on the New Global Realm on her Sliver phone. She checks whether or not the scene, where she felt as if all eyes were focused on her, was scripted.

PART 3

JRA posts on his Facebook page….

DataCommodity a New Oil, a concept that attacks Crude Oil and all the derivatives of crude, which include war, pollution, and petroleum products that will litter and suffocate the planet long after our great-grandchildren’s great-grandchildren are gone, if there is a planet left for them. It is the Cut-Throat-Creative’s Pro Bono work for his biggest client Planet Earth.

JRA can imagine the uproar from those who jump on bandwagons from having little or no thoughts of their own, especially when DataCommodity calls for Data to be commoditised, instantly giving the fear mongers the opportunity to attack the concept with stories of Big Brother encroaching on people’s privacy, when in fact the concept will go some way to ensure privacy; the idea will eradicate Piracy by those whom people should be concerned about in regards to how accessible one’s data is.

DataCommodity, an idea by John Reyer Afamasaga under his aesid “ideas” banner, could well be the next big thing. And most importantly, it could offer us a sustainable commodity for a new robust economy that displaces Crude Oil, which we go to war over, have to clean up after, and which holds us over a barrel as its hikes the price of everything from running a car to the cost of groceries….

JRA checks his Ne0—Black Box for the txt msg that arrives.

“make up ur mind…are you a capitalist or a crusader?…luv the slogan-New Oil! + great screen—big bad crude oil…what happens when you want them to take u seriously? Lol”

John Reyer can hear Lunar’s almost hip boss as he vagrantly enters the realm of MAD MEN like Edward Bernays, Don Draper, and Bill Backer as he says “LOL,” against all the advice no one had given the poor man when the man mocks John Reyer’s idea—DataCommodity.

 

JRA clicks on the link to the chapter’s theme as he realises that the elevator with Aleisha in it is approaching its destination. Hone enters the foyer of the high-rise where he’s instantly mobbed by groupies he didn’t know he had. His name across their chests is fascinating for the kid who was expecting an audition for a TV commercial, in which he aims to sing live, considering what he has heard about how they do things in the world of entertainment. Lenny Kravitz on the video wall is surrounded by women, just like he is….

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
(Tuesday, 14th February 2012)

“V-DAY”

PART 1

Lunar Bois, in a black robe with his hands behind his back, moves so the robe waves. The mixed female congregational church choir of all colours, shapes, and sizes, five rows high against the sky, begins to move as Lunar clicks his fingers with an eye on the piano player, who begins to play. Everyone else has an eye on the elevator as it makes its way up to the enlightened floor where spirituality and sexuality, the latter of which is hiding somewhere for the time being, combine for one person who’s about to show her face.

“Oh Happy Day….” Lunar says, and the lead singer, a woman who is someone’s wife, steps forward to repeat the line in the song. “Oh happy day….”

“When Jesus washed…” Lunar says, knowing what JRA will say about the scene….

“LUNAR! Earth to LUNAR! Can you fucking read me….” The boss’ voice disturbs Lunar’s flow. Lunar rubs his head as the boss’ voice registers. He sees the person in a grey suit reflected in the screen on the window with JRA, as the man steals Lunar’s thunder in front of his boss. His friend continues to write the demise of others, including the post-mortem of another failed idea by Lunar, who would be a star in any other setting.

“Stick to the plan; she’ll be here any second. Your so-called friend is a droid; he has no heart….” The boss offers Lunar a description of JRA that Lunar can relate to, especially on Valentine’s Day—one some years ago, particularly comes to mind.

Lunar rewinds the video of himself as JRA, writing a GUIOPERA, which Lunar shot on the web cam. The idea for the Bendon campaign is that a church choir of women will serve as a metaphor for how we want our wives and girlfriends to be, but then the women disrobe as the song progresses, revealing they’re in Bendon lingerie.

“Mary had a little lamb, not Mary had a pussy….” The boss’ words remind Lunar of the brand’s personality….“Cat!” the boss finishes his sentence.

Lunar pushes himself up from the seat in front of his HP “Plateau.”

“By the way, what was the slogan?” The boss asks Lunar, who is away with the goblins at this moment, what the phrase was that would right wrongs and encapsulate the thought his campaign would provoke.

Lunar watches as onscreen the Cut-Throat-Creative reads minds, deciphers code, and snatches ideas from the wind of thoughts that blow through the turbines of time. Lunar unashamedly points to the screen as JRA, like a stenographer from the future, types out the slogan for the new range of women’s lingerie that Lunar Bois, a celebrated Ad Man, thought would work: “Loves the Sinner.”

“It’s life on planet femme…lingerie and laughter at us…they don’t need consent from homme….” The boss opens the door to the office for Lunar.

“Hates the sinner?” As Lunar walks past him through the open door, the boss asks whether in a world of scorned women, he would have a say.

PART 2

Aleisha reads the LATEST UPLOAD. The ride to the enlightened floor, as it’s described in the latest chapter of the story-about-the-story-being-written, is slow in the refurbished elevator. It’s a distraction at least for the lack of attention she has received of late, especially on Valentine’s Day, a fact Aleisha finally admits to herself. She sighs as the selection of men whose charms she would accept is culled down to exactly none, apart from the person whom she follows as he writes the story of her life.

Another floor passes as another year comes and goes for Aleisha while she daydreams of her future in the story-about-the-story-being-written.

All the buzz about the Bendon campaign seems to have overridden Valentine’s Day, for which Aleisha is thankful; she already envisions a day filled with envy at her glass desk where she will play delivery girl to all the lucky women in the office.

Aleisha nestles her mind in the hands of the Cut-Throat-Creative. It calms her. Another floor passes as she lets her mind drift on his sea of oblivious censure for those whom love has forgotten.

“Your favourite food…what you like to do….” Aleisha says the words to her favourite song as the elevator comes to a halt….

PART 3

Behind the concrete pillar, JRA consumes the last of the can of %) as he waits for the car alarm to be deactivated. The lights flash and the locks disarm as John Reyer scrunches the can in his hand, bringing a smile to his face when he thinks about what he has to do….The owner of the silver car is still somewhere around the corner of the car park as John opens the back door and slips into the backseat behind the driver’s seat of the vehicle that’s been bothering him. Inside the car, he sits back and waits for the person he wants to talk to as the person approaches the vehicle from behind, none the wiser that the person he’s been pestering, has led that person to the car park building and he is now waiting for him inside his car.

The door opens and the person JRA knows well from back in the day hops in. The leader, who has long since changed his ways also, sits back in the front seat as he realises JRA has been here already. An empty can of %) lies on the front passenger seat. The brand of drink has changed, but the Cut-Throat-Creative’s calling card, a scrunched aluminium can—a white steinie—back then, remains the same.

“So, who is it, Aleisha or Hone, that you’re after?” JRA’s voice wavers in an attempt not to lose all cool now that he has the cat in his own mousetrap.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” The voice is the same, but the tone seems to have matured and mellowed somewhat.

“Neither of us has much say anymore…so what’s with the game?” John Reyer asks the person to whom he and Lunar are linked because of a woman, as far as the story goes.

“I wanna do the right thing…” Jerry, now a moderately wealthy guy with no declared income still, explains.

“Hold up…I have to do something.” JRA cuts Jerry off midsentence as the known enforcer from back in the day tries explaining himself. “Can I connect to that stereo?” John takes his eyes off the intimidating character in the front seat as he does something on his Black Box. Jerry’s menacing look in the mirror would concern most, let alone someone stupid enough to hijack Jerry’s car, which JRA registers is not what it seemed from a distance. JRA sees the baby-seat out of the corner of his eye, something John chooses to ignore as he considers Jerry’s actions thus far.

“You on Facebook?” JRA asks Jerry, whose patience begins to wear thin.

“Yeah…But I have grandchildren to pick up from school, bro….” Jerry’s change in tone is noticeable.

“Just sent you a request….” John Reyer hopes the gesture will smooth the way from here on as he feels like throwing the blame back on Jerry for what has happened.

“Just posted what I call the LATEST UPLOAD on the walls of the New Global Realm.” JRA comes clean now about who he is. It satisfies Jerry that JRA is not playing with him, like the others had made Jerry think.

“Can I drop you off somewhere?” Jerry starts the car.

“You still haven’t answered my question about why you were following me….”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
(Wednesday, 15th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar checks his Memoir, as an alert from the portal signals that someone has something on JRA. “Wow, how about that, ah?” Lunar shows the boss the upload by Jerry, whom everyone in town knows of.

The boss closes the door to the office as the bell on the elevator sounds Aleisha’s arrival for the first day of her new life.

“Still want to deal with him?” Lunar asks the boss, already walking towards the elevator, whether he still wants to know John Reyer after one of his interludes, during which he looks like he’s been had by the others around him.

PART 2

The elevator door slides back. The glass fridge, carved out of a one tonne block of ice and in which cans of %) seemed to be frozen, smoulders from subzero temperatures in the warm office Aleisha steps into.

To Aleisha’s right, the Wall of Touch spans what the eye can see. Her glass desk is like a vase that waits for her. In and amongst her self-pity, she spares a thought for JRA, who grins and bears the effects of those around him. The patient person absorbs their effects like he is waiting for something to happen that will take care of the jealous ones who try to annoy the person Aleisha relies on to write her destiny into reality.

Aleisha finds comfort in the idea that she’s his outlet for now as JRA deals with what he has to overcome. Each step she takes is of his will. And on Valentine’s Day, she feels even closer to the writer than ever….

PART 3

Later, on Valentine’s Day….

“Get in the front seat…” JRA sounds like he’s giving an order to Hone as the silver vehicle pulls up to the curb on Courtney Place.

“Sure,” says Hone, unsure what else to say as his uncle’s friend arrives to pick up him, JRA, and Lunar for what JRA told him was a “catch-up with the past.”

Lunar walks around to the other side and opens the door. He looks inside, and then he looks at JRA, who looks at Lunar as if he’s not doing what he was told. Jerry—someone whom everyone claims to know about, but that’s it—sits in the driver seat.

Across the street, still high from her Valentine’s Day surprise—being chosen to star in the new Bendon campaign—is Aleisha. She sees the silver car she’s been reading about in the story, and JRA, who glances across the street at her before he ducks for cover inside the back of the silver vehicle, which drives off down the street.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
(Friday, 17th February 2012)

PART 1

A plane passes overhead….

“She’s an easy lover….”

Phil Collins and Phil Bailey play on a tourist’s Walkman. The woman, in a Liverpool FC top, dances like she’s the only one in the world.

A break-dance crew, waiting for a flight to Christchurch, tune into the channel known as the New Global Realm as they unroll their lino out on the already slippery floor. It quickly brings a crowd to where the boys throw down to each other as they prepare themselves for nationals down south.

Further down inside the airport, Lunar waits after Jerry has announced that he had to check out the “Men’s.” He waits until he makes eye contact with Connie.

“Where’s that DJ?” Connie asks as she leans forward on the table, giving Lunar an eyeful, which Lunar avoids since he’d rather look into the woman’s eyes.

“Johnny’s somewhere…probably with that friend of yours—what’s her name?” Lunar tries to discourage Connie from going near the heartbreaker.

“She’s no good for him….” Connie interrupts as she holds her hand out for the Ne0—Memoir, a handheld phone, a little bigger than a Whittaker’s Peanut Slab, on which you can send telex messages to someone else with the same thing.

“Play me easy lover Connie xo”

Connie types on the small phone, using her thumbs, and then she shows Lunar her message as Jerry returns to the table. “Saw one of them on the back of a comic…” Jerry says to break up the interaction between his woman and Lunar Bois, Johnny Alfabet’s best mate. As far as Jerry’s concerned, Lunar’s the better one out of the two. “Sure you did, Jerry.” Connie looks up at Jerry as if he’s interrupted something special.

PART 2

Aleisha waits in the line as someone in front of her has stopped in the airplane’s aisle to let a little old lady out of her seat. She is still in her school uniform, after having come straight from school to the airport; it is her own fault since Aleisha purposely forgot to take her bag with her things into school. Coming to Wellington once a month to see her father is a drag; leaving her bag at home had worked the last time. This time, however, her mother has made her come; fully well knowing that her daughter had left her bag behind, she picked Aleisha up from school and delivered her daughter to the airport as is….

Outside on the tarmac, the Welly wind reminds Aleisha, from the garden city, that it’s only for three days as a piece of paper flies towards her, and then it veers left and off into the yonder. Aleisha turns her head to see the paper fly over the top of the Air New Zealand plane, from which the air crew, led by the air hostesses, make their way down the steps.

Inside the terminal and down the bottom of the ramp, Aleisha can see Connie, her dad’s girlfriend, through the glass windows of the door to her left. But her father is standing at the right. Next to him is some other woman, who looks like Connie, but with a whole lot more class.

When Aleisha looks again to where Connie is, she sees a big gang/bikie-looking guy next to her. Next to him is one of the guys she sees around Cuba Mall, usually with “Alfabet,” or “Johnny,” as the cute guy, probably in his early twenties, is known; he is a DJ at the club that Connie got Aleisha into the last time Aleisha was here.

PART 3

“She’s an easy lover…”

Johnny takes his time, listening to the song lyrics on the radio. He imagines a time, someday when he’s old and grey, if he makes it past his thirtieth birthday, when he’ll look back on days like these with some regret, no doubt, but it’s all the drop-out has.

The woman, a few years older than him, whose friend Connie has been txting from Lunar’s cellular device, regardless of the fact that she’s with Jerry, is hot enough that he doesn’t need to go near another man’s woman….

“What have you got for me?” The voice of the buyer, who looks more like a professor in his woollen vest and spectacles, wakes Johnny from a sudden lapse in concentration, something that’s been happening a lot lately.

Johnny sees the tall character, who is the face of a few businesses, in the window of the Transit Van. Johnny stole the van before he broke into the warehouse early this morning to pick up the TVs that the warehouse’s owner got Johnny to rip off for an insurance claim, for which he’s getting paid, and for stealing the van also, which belongs to the warehouse owner’s mate.

Johnny opens up the back of the van for the buyer to see a dozen brand new TV’s, still in their boxes. And then he finishes the can of steinie in his hand.

“Tax free, sir, and a handsome discount for you….” says Johnny, still with his back faced to the buyer as Johnny wipes his lips and then looks down the side of the van at the woman who leans against the van, looking back at him.

The hectic pace at which Johnny lives his life is starting to take its toll. A trip across the Tasman, one to the U.S. for his real job, and then back to this place, his cover in the space of thirty days, not to mention his day job as a DJ in a nightclub, gives him an excuse to reach for the hipflask in his jacket.

“Sixty smart ones for each?” The buyer’s price irks Johnny, who grins and bears the man’s audacity.

“Smart ones as far as the dumb are concerned…” Johnny looks at the can of steinie in his left hand and then the hipflask in his other; he decides to take out his frustration on the can, which he crunches and drops so he can take a drink from the sterling silver hipflask, a gift from someone.

Johnny turns around when he finally finishes the hipflask; it makes him feel like facing someone whom he doesn’t want to talk to. The measly money the buyer hands over, and the woman looking at him, expecting Johnny to do something, is all too much.

“Thanks,” Johnny says as he hands the buyer the van’s keys and walks off for the taxi that pulls up at the end of the alleyway. “Come on,” Johnny says to the woman as he holds a hand out for her to take.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
(Thursday, 16th February 2012)

PART 1

“So true, funny how it seems
Always in time, but never line for dreams
Head over heels when toe to toe…”

Spandau Ballet performs on the tails of a breeze that blows across the face of a redeeming sun, on a perfect Wellington morning.

Connie lies on her side, a gentler side as she looks up and around and sees Lunar’s face propped up by an arm.

“Give me a ciggie,” Connie demands, so Lunar reaches behind him, still with his eye on the woman he thinks he loves.

“Thanks. Send Johnny a message from me on your bat phone thing, will ya?” Connie smiles through the smoke she blows in Lunar’s face.

A car pulls up in the driveway….

“There’s my cue,” Connie announces as she gets up and drags the bedding with her, leaving Lunar alone on the bed.

Connie drops the sheets at the door as she disappears down the hall and back to her and Jerry’s room. Lunar gets up and gathers up the sheets and throws them over his head like a veil. He closes the door and listens to Jerry and Connie’s ex’s stepdaughter enter the house downstairs.

PART 2

Saturday morning and Aleisha sits in the dark theatre, still dressed in her school uniform. The popcorn in her lap smells, so she reaches for more. She had decided not to go shopping for new clothes with the money her dad had given her, instead opting to take up Connie’s offer to borrow some of hers for the weekend.

The fact that Connie and her dad had split works quite well for Aleisha, who can’t stand her stepdad, but he is the only one she knows….

Outside on the pavement, Aleisha hugs her knees as another half-hour passes and still there is no sign of Connie.

The object—which looks like a calculator, and which Aleisha found on the seat next to her in the theatre—goes off in the pocket of her school uniform blouse. It vibrates. Aleisha quickly pulls the thing out and has a look at it in daylight. “Ne0—Sliver” sounds like something out of a science fiction movie. She touches the flashing envelope on the smooth screen and the thing stops shaking.

“Chance is a beautiful thing when your mind is set on positive outcomes…the wind blows wonderful thoughts in your direction, or it can howl at you like a chilling reminder…A vulnerableflame is one without reason. Burn, baby burn…”

A car horn is blasted at her; it interrupts Aleisha as she reads the typed words on the screen of the contraption, which is the size of a rectangle makeup compact. The mag wheel in front of her comes into focus, and then Aleisha looks to see who’s in the late model Holden. It’s the man from the airport yesterday afternoon. He looks like he could hurt someone who didn’t do what he wanted. He leans over and unwinds the passenger window. “Aleisha?” he calls out.

Aleisha looks down the street, and then she hears him explain who he is. “I’m your dad’s ex’s new man….” The explanation sounds good enough with Connie, who might be a bit of tramp, but also a tough bitch, which is the important factor in these good for nothing men’s lives….

PART 3

Johnny looks around the after hours’ club. In the corner, Litigatti, Le Mac, and John Page look like locals. Page’s kiwi accent is thwarted with an English accent that the bouncer, a gang member who brings them beers, likes the sound of. Litigatti, one of the Network’s up and coming stars, smiles like nothing is the matter as Le Mac, from the same blood line as Johnny, Litigatti, Page, and whose brother, James Elton, is doing time for attempted murder at the age of nine, keeps a low profile by making himself look Polynesian.

Lunar, who stands at the edge of the pool table, leers at Litigatti, whom he thinks is here to do a number on his best mate Alfabet.

“Easy bros; they’re here for the cause…something you might want to get involved in once you cleanse your soul…” Johnny thinks of something enlightening to say to Lunar Bois as he thanks the bouncer on his way back to the door with a handshake.

Connie, who already has an eye on Metofeaz Litigatti, pulls up to the table. “Your brother?” she asks as she leans between Lunar and Johnny. “Same egg.” Johnny plays up to his name as a comedian as he watches the look on Connie’s face as the voluptuous brunette holds up a cigarette for Lunar to light with an eye on the boys in the corner and a hand on Johnny’s thigh.

Johnny looks down at the hand on his leg as he sees the bruises and cuts on his knuckles. “Jerry said you could’ve made more than just pay back your debt….” Connie comments on the reason for Johnny’s bruised knuckles. “Nah, fighting for money doesn’t interest me,” Johnny says, and then he looks at Connie and back down at her hand for her to remove it, just in time for when Jerry’s voice is heard.

Johnny looks at the woman, for whom he’d settle in-between an on-and-off relationship with someone else who is better off without him. Connie looks the part, if it weren’t for her friend, whom Connie set him up with, and whom he walked home before he went downtown to fight in an alleyway to pay off a gambling debt. Johnny feels for the person he disposed of in the fight, with bets totalling $39,000.

Jerry, the big winner of the night, pulls up to the table. Beside him is a young girl whom Connie reaches out for. “Aw, darling, look at you…” Connie says, wrapping her arms around the child who keeps her eye on Johnny in the strange habitat.

Johnny recognises the girl, who must be all of fifteen, from earlier in the night when she was dancing with Connie, and Connie’s friend at the club.

Aleisha feels safe in the place she demanded Jerry to bring her to when they ended up at a strip club on Vivian Street, even though the person at the door of the dingy club was wearing a patch. Seeing Johnny Alfabet somehow makes things better.

“Don’t let looks deceive you,” Jerry scoffs as he notices Aleisha staring at Alfabet, the kind of guy whom you don’t want anywhere near your woman. Jerry also sees his Connie making eyes at someone in the corner—he has to do a double-take to confirm whether it is Johnny standing next to Jerry.

“Lunar! Rack ’em up, bro.” Jerry growls at Lunar to set up the table. And Lunar smiles at him as Jerry’s eyes turn to Johnny while Jerry kisses Connie, who still has her arms around the girl.

“You heard the man,” Johnny smirks at Lunar, who then does what he’s told.

Johnny now looks for somewhere to sit as his brain starts to hurt from the commotion of all that’s going on. He finds a seat against the wall, and instantly, the bruises from a night’s work remind the kid of nineteen that one day all of this will come to a head. Hopefully, it will pass since his kidneys ache from a kick in the fight in the alleyway.

“Vulnerable is good—I have no idea what may come…” He hears himself say as Aleisha appears in front of him like at a school dance. Johnny moves sideways on the seat, causing him agony as the opposite side of his body, his ribcage, throbs from a punch, the last one he took before he asked his opponent, “Are you going out this weekend?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
(Saturday, 18th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar checks the Sanyo ghetto blaster he’s carrying along the beach to see whether it makes him look his age, or whether he could pass for a producer/songwriter like Johnny when he goes abroad….Deep down inside, Lunar wants to tell his friend that it’s okay that he flunked high school since now he is DJ in a nightclub, and that when he vanishes for days on end, that she’d better be worth it, whoever she is that Alfabet sees when he’s gone.

Lunar turns the volume up. It causes a family lounging in the sun to sit up. When a group of kids from the Hutt see that it’s Lunar, they call out to older boy they know. A girl sitting on her own looks like Aleisha, Connie’s ex’s daughter. Lunar reminds himself that he’s not interested in a girl when he has someone like Connie who’s obviously not that keen on Jerry, or else she wouldn’t be sneaking around behind his back.

Lunar spots Alfabet slumped against the barrier, like he’s trash someone discarded, watching the world around him like an eyeball in the sand. It makes Lunar wonder about how the magnetic figure does what he does. Heads turn to see where Lunar is looking, but when they see it’s Johnny, instantly the mood on the beach changes, as if everybody is now on his or her best behaviour….

Lunar stops in front of Johnny, who shields his eyes from the sun while looking up at Lunar. Lunar lays the silver tape-deck, the size of a small suitcase, across his knees. Lunar looks down at the ghetto blaster, waiting for something to happen as the last song ends and the announcer catches the tail-end of the song with something to say….

PART 2

Sunday on the parade…Aleisha waits outside Freyberg pool for her stepdad. She waves goodbye to Connie and Jerry, who turns out to be an okay guy. Connie raises a can of beer to her as they disappear down the road, still none the wiser about Aleisha’s buzz from her first joint that Jerry and she had while Connie went to drop Lunar off somewhere this morning.

Johnny is somewhere here….She had heard Lunar tell Connie on their way out the door that he was meeting up with Johnny on Oriental Parade this afternoon.

Aleisha looks down at her feet in jandals; her toes remind her of candles she stopped blowing out on birthday cakes that ran out when her parents parted ways on her tenth birthday. Her forgotten existence helps extinguish the pain she doesn’t allow herself to feel, especially on days like today.

Aleisha tunes out of reality and into some place she’s discovered of late—a place where everyone belongs. She sees herself on the parade, waiting for a guardian to show up and collect her. The girl is a former shell of herself, who has outgrown dreams someone gave the child and then snatched away from her. She never met her dad, and her stepdad, to whom her mother has sent Aleisha to get Aleisha out of her hair for the weekend, got the boot when her mother discovered his game of Mommies and Daddies that he was playing with the babysitter. Somehow on her own, Aleisha had managed to ruin their lives when she told her mother of her stepdad’s game, which he and the babysitter had been playing for over three years since Aleisha was seven.

Someone scans radio frequencies…the needle passes over stations and into static abyss as Aleisha tunes back in to see whether the car pulling up is her stepdad’s. The radio is somewhere along the promenade; the anticipation of what it will play comes to a satisfying end when Aleisha hears the announcer say on a sunny day that it’s a dedication for some special person; the latest song by Split Enz, “Message to My Girl.”

PART 3

Johnny sits back under the barrier’s cover as he watches his best mate, Lunar Bois, as he walks through the crowd with Ghetto Blaster blaring “Automatic” by the Pointer Sisters. Johnny shakes his head at how the kid, whom one day his mother had brought home with her from the boys’ home, a place for bad eggs, has changed. Since then, Lunar has been like his shadow that precedes Johnny anywhere Johnny, a private person, goes.

The song ends and Lunar looks down at the radio like he is waiting for something. Johnny cringes as he waits for one of Lunar’s dedications. His last dedication was “I See Red” by Split Enz from Mrs. Lange to Margaret Pope, the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable David Lange’s press secretary.

“This one’s for Connie,” Lunar smiles as the announcer confirms what Lunar says.

Johnny sits up and places his hands on his knees; he glances to his left and then to the right to see who’s watching them with an evil eye. The girl standing in the distance outside Freyberg pool looks familiar. The guy in his mid to late thirties and with a midriff that still has lines from a six-pack stands twenty metres away and ignores Lunar and him. The two women, dressed for a café with a Kirkcaldies & Stains picnic basket, are almost in line with him and the fountain out in the bay—the fountain Johnny’s dad used to drive the family to see on Saturday nights—are in the way of swimmers heading to and from the water.

“Passionate, fair, and intelligent—Dave Lange….” Johnny says about the country’s Prime Minister, to which Lunar replies, “Fat, but….”

Johnny looks around again, embarrassed by what his friend just said as Split Enz’ latest hit, “Message to My Girl,” is left to play on a wonderful Welly day.

The girl outside Freyberg pool, Johnny realises as she begins to walk towards them, is Aleisha.

CHAPTER   NINETEEN
(Sunday, 19th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar Bois searches his pockets for the Ne0—Memoir… “Fuck!” is all Lunar has to say for himself.

Johnny shakes his head at his friend’s inability to be trusted. Johnny’s smile is indicative of his disappointment…. “Shit happens?” Lunar’s question adds salt to injury.

“Hey, dude, look…It’s Aleisha….” For a moment, Lunar’s mouth could do with some wiring to keep it shut. Johnny looks at the fist he’s made, already unbeknown to him. His red knuckles shine from last night as Johnny looks around the beach to see most of the people have gone back to doing their own thing, and he imagines that no one will notice if he drops his mate like a sack of potatoes right here on the sand.

“Who do you think would have it?” Johnny’s voice wavers, making him sound more like a kid than a hit man when he asks Lunar whom he suspects has the one of three cellular devices Johnny stole from an office.

PART 2

Aleisha is lost in another dimension as it were….She wanders along the parade to where the music is coming from, after waiting for some time for her guardian to pick her up….

“Hey! You little tramp….” Aleisha is rudely awoken by her stepdad’s voice shouting at her from somewhere, and then the repeated blast of a car horn that draws everyone’s attention to her.

Aleisha sees Bois; in the distance…he’s talking to someone down behind the wall. The car to her right recklessly veers into the driveway for Freyberg pool. It looks as if it will either take out the cars parked on the street or people on the footpath before it screeches to a stop….

Inside the beat up Falcon, Aleisha tries her best to acclimatise to the dense atmosphere from her stepdad’s mood. Her stepdad’s latest talks to Aleisha, given from the front seat and through the pulled-down sun visor’s mirror, annoy Aleisha, upsetting her view of the road.

“So how is Connie? Still bed hopping?” The new girlfriend sounds envious. Aleisha ignores her. The Sliver begins to vibrate, giving Aleisha something else to think about…the car passes Lunar Bois, placing the radio on the barrier as he climbs over onto the parade. Aleisha turns to look, but still there is no sign of Johnny….

PART 3

Johnny takes the long way home to his flat in Mt. Victoria from Oriental Parade, from where he walks to visit acquaintances in Mt. Cook. Inside the student flat, people are just waking from the night before. David Bowie in The Hunger plays on the VCR as Johnny takes a hit of the speed he needs from a table that was abandoned when its occupants passed out around it.

Johnny feels a hand find its way up inside his trouser leg. He takes another line to see how the hand could make him feel. The pipe lying on its side looks inviting—and so does the block of hash in tinfoil that’s slightly open so he can smell the aroma. Johnny clears the line of speed from his nasal passage, so he can smell of hash. He uses his head to motion for the woman on the floor to go somewhere down the hall of the flat, as he slices a piece of hash using the lip of the pipe. Then he follows the Uni student, dressed only in a bra, down the passageway to where she enters the toilet.

Johnny feels the cold, and then a sudden rush as chemicals come together in a cocktail; its ingredients and their airs never quite subside in his system. The missing cellular device—one of three Johnny had lifted right from under the nose of someone who had hired Johnny to steal information from an opponent but also one of their business partners—bothers Johnny. Alfabet’s naïve act, in which he is just a dumb kid and petty criminal, may not work in his other life, in which his aim was to sell the devices to the highest bidder. Giving them to friends to play with was just part of his dumb act….

The door to the toilet closes and Johnny decides to play whatever game he’s created by giving the Ne0—Memoir to Lunar Bois, who has gone and lost it.

CHAPTER TWENTY
(Monday, 20th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar toasts Jerry, who stares at him like he knows about him and Connie. The creases at the corner of Jerry’s mouth deepen until his crow’s feet become imprints like the mud outside from the sheets of rain. It is a dismal day away from sunlight, sullenly hiding itself from Lunar, as the rain pounding the roof takes from Lunar the quietness he needs so he can think of something to say.

“Listen to the rain; it doesn’t lie…it has nowhere else to fall but down on you…” Lunar remembers what Johnny once told him about the truth.

“How’s ’bout that sun, eh? Must be shining out of that Johnny Alfabet’s arse today, eh bro?” Jerry, who’s a few years older than Lunar, has a smile that remains placid for whatever reason. His words, as usual, are attacking Lunar’s best mate, which makes Lunar angry. Lunar’s anger is not from the words themselves but because Jerry says them to his face in light of the fact that everyone knows Lunar is Johnny’s right-hand man.

“Sun’s overrated anyway…sure, someone living in a desert would happily do a swap…” Lunar finds something to say, and then he forgets about the toast and throws back the half-filled glass of Johnny Walker black label, neat.

The sound of an engine as it pulls up outside seems to bring back the crow’s feet on Jerry’s look. And when the car—presumably it’s Connie—drives up the driveway, Lunar has to come up with something classic; he rues the fact he doesn’t have his best mate’s nerves.

PART 2

Aleisha traces raindrops on their way down the window pane. Her flight back to Christchurch has been cancelled; the rain and the wind have washed away all flights and prevented interisland ferry crossings from the nation’s capital.

The condensation allows Aleisha to track the path of Nature’s tears on the cold glass, making it satisfying as her finger slides down the cold and slippery glass, and then onto the sill, like taking a step down. Then her finger drops and lands on her lap, where the “Cellular,”—as she’s found out—lies waiting for another message from someone, the sound of whom she likes.

Aleisha places the Ne0—Sliver in the handbag that Connie, who now toots the horn outside, gave to Aleisha. Aleisha takes a long hard look at her reflection in the window with a love heart, and then lines that look like bars that hide the heart she drew. The lipstick shines, and the mascara morphs the sadness in her eyes as she presents the brave face she’s made up. On the bright side, Aleisha reminds herself, she doesn’t have to go to school today or tomorrow. She gets up to leave, just in time to escape the sounds coming from behind the wall of her stepdad’s small flat.

PART 3

“Twenty…” Johnny pushes hard as he raises the bar another time….the rain washes the rusty weights on the bar’s ends, and his body and face on the bench-press out back in the small concrete courtyard of the Mt. Victoria flat. His bare torso is cut clean with lean muscle from a loss of appetite, and running from place to place and from all that threatens the fearless kid. Goosebumps arouse Johnny as he closes his eyes from the driving rain when he strains, pushing himself to give himself another set. The rain cleanses everything, and the howling wind is an icy reminder of how one can isolate himself in the life Johnny has chosen for himself. In the end-to-end saga, his current circumstance must circumnavigate the meaningless lives of others so the consequence is the sum or moral of the story-about-the-story-being-told; one day he will write it—it is his birth right, his mother has warned him….

Inside, looking out the kitchen window at the bench he had laid on in the freezing wind and rain, Johnny can see how others would think the things they say about him. On the stove, the boiling pot’s lid rattles as steam escapes. Johnny lifts the lid on the pot of broccoli, which should still be firm, and then removes the vegetable and leaves the juice to cool as he eats the green vegetable as his breakfast   looking out the window in what others would term a bleak existence.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
(Tuesday, 21st February 2012)

“Are you old enough?”

PART 1

“Mi casa, su casa,” says Jerry, well on his way, as he waves his glass at Lunar, who’s only getting warmed up. Saturday night’s Evening Post on the table is opened to the situations vacant page, which Lunar has one eye on; the other is on his old mate Jerry, who continues on about his favourite subject: Johnny. “Got to hand it to him….” Lunar reads the ad for a copywriter for a radio station, blocking out Jerry’s next words….

“You’re my manager at my last job as assistant copywriter for a company that handles advertising for European cars…Do a bad English accent, in your case the best you can do…” Lunar gives Jerry his instructions as the phone rings.

“Hello… Jerry Spon…ta…nei...i...ty.” Jerry strains his eyes to read Lunar’s handwriting that Lunar stresses with his finger as he stands to his feet to cope with the situation, in which Jerry is his referee for a job Lunar, without any qualifications, needs.

Lunar snatches the phone from Jerry and says to his new manager, “Jerry Spontaneity has an awful stutter; we’ll be here till kingdom come if we wait for Jerry’s glowing reference of me. What say I come in first thing tomorrow morning and you show me around?”

Jerry sits back and looks at Lunar, pumped from the phone call that Lunar ends after a long pause of silence when a voice on the other end says, “Okay, Lunar Bois; you’ve got my attention…we’ll see you at eight-thirty in the morning….”

“Thank you, Sir…I will be there….”

PART 2

Connie flitters through the bar. Behind her, Aleisha has her eyes on the table in the booth down the back of the bar, which Aleisha would feel more comfortable in during daylight hours.

At the table, Aleisha declines a smoke that Connie offers her. Connie takes the cigarette packet from in front of Aleisha, but then she offers it to her again. Aleisha dodges Connie’s eyes that squint, making her look scary since she doesn’t say something—a rarity for Connie. The woman just stares at Aleisha through the smoke that mushrooms before it reaches its target—Aleisha’s made-up face.

The vibrating phone in her pocket feels awkward—Aleisha doesn’t want to pull it out from fear that Connie might ask for it.

“Drink, or are you going to say, ‘No’ to that…?” Connie sounds terse, something Aleisha is used to, having known Connie for a while now; this attitude of Connie’s usually means one of two things.... When Connie says, “Fuck, I’m horny….” she confirms which one of the two states she’s in. And then she quickly adds, “…and enter the sandman….” Her dreamy sounding voice collaborates with a smile that creeps into place, starting in her eyes, and making Aleisha turn to see who it is. Johnny Alfabet. “I’m going to the bar; what do you want me to bring you?” Connie rushes. “Raspberry Lemonade, please,” Aleisha says all of a sudden, feeling comfortable again in her skin.

Aleisha moves around the booth until she sees the bar. To her right, the jukebox’s flashing lights catch her attention. She tries staring straight ahead as she hears Connie’s heels heading for the bar, and then light-footed steps, with a healthy pause in between, as they make their way down the bar. When the door slams, Aleisha loses her concentration.

When Johnny disappears from her peripheral vision, Aleisha imagines that he’s sitting somewhere down to her left, which is her better side, looking at her….

The wind blows through the door that opens again. Connie’s voice is asking Johnny whether he’d like a Steinie; it upsets the scene, making Aleisha look and see that Johnny’s back faces her, and some nerdy guy is pulling up a seat at Johnny’s table….

“Cost me a beer, friggin’ cheapskate….” Connie returns with the drinks, obviously disappointed with the outcome. “They say he’s queer; bi-sexual at least…” Connie says. Aleisha looks at the way Johnny and the guy who could pass for queer are talking, close.

Eventually, the nerdy guy gets up and leaves. At the door, he meets Lunar and Jerry, who makes Aleisha laugh with his tough looks and teddy bear personality. The nerdy guy looks more like a spastic as he makes signs at Johnny about Jerry, probably something that queer guys would do, like women do about Johnny. With Aleisha’s two favourite men in the world—not counting her boyfriend back home in Christchurch—in the bar, Aleisha gets a sudden urge to have some fun. She can no longer resist the jukebox, which has been beckoning her. Aleisha takes Connie’s drink out of her hand and has a sip; she screws her face and remarks, “Didn’t do that on Saturday night…” Aleisha uses the back of the booth to drag herself out of the seat. She makes her way over to the jukebox, cutting off Jerry. Connie still doesn’t know about the smoke that Aleisha and Jerry had.

PART 3

Johnny ducks out of the rain and under the canopy of an awning. He is mindful that someone might see him here at this time of day, regardless of the fact that he is an employee in the hospitality industry, and the bar he is about to enter could be deemed as his place of work.

He doesn’t look forward to the meeting with someone who has some work for him. The idea that they have to meet in a bar and he has to have a few drinks before he can face the broker confirms his mother’s nagging voice, which Johnny hears, telling him that this is not the life for her son.

Water funnelled from the sagging awning looks like it’s coming from a tap. The broker’s car parked up the road has fogged windows, meaning he’s been here for some time and is still inside the car. Johnny stops staring at the water coming down from the awning.

Inside the bar, the sight of Connie and Aleisha down the back has mixed meanings for Johnny, who is pleased to see them for a reason that escapes him. He finds a table in the middle of the bar with his back faced to them, where the mid-morning shadow cast by grey light begins.

Non compos mentis for his current state, Johnny finds himself seated at the table before he’s been to the bar for some Jim Beam, which was his plan.
Connie’s appearance at the bar to his right, and the broker coming through the front door, cut off Johnny’s options as he accepts that at least he’ll get a free drink out of the mix-up.

The broker, a German scientist living in the U.S., raises two fingers to Johnny, and Johnny nods his head as the broker pulls up to the bar, leaving some distance between him and Connie, who has a hand on her hip.

“What ya havin’, Johnny?” Connie’s voice calms him, enough for Johnny to turn his head and look at her. “Steinie?” Connie smiles before telling the barman, “and one Steinie.” Johnny notices the two drinks on the bar, one of them a raspberry and lemonade, the other Southern Comfort and Coke—Connie’s drink. Seeing the drinks goes some way toward making him feel a little better about the way things are going for the day….

“…different type of job this one…” The broker’s accent, still strong and stoic, helps as Johnny tells himself that his real job is the best job anyone could wish for. “...the Berlin Wall presents much more than a division of Germany…trade with the West would flourish without the East…” Johnny waits for the broker to tender an offer for the cellular devices that his client must’ve advised the broker had gone missing by now, but instead, the broker continues on with the details for the new job… “As The Guy, we would like you to convince a few people for us of the merits of a united Germany….” Johnny looks at the broker whose parents are Jewish. “You know, if that came from anyone else, I’d have to raise the alarm…” Johnny forgets about his need for a drink as the conversation becomes real….

The broker slides Johnny his new passport, and then three other passports for his crew, for the job that will take, “…three years max; globalisation has to start somewhere…utilises resources much more efficiently; the poor will have better access to centralised services… eighty-twenty still applies, but it’s more manageable….” Johnny hears the sell, and can pick holes in it already, so he decides to focus on what it can mean. “Blue chip stocks, the balance waiting for you in a Swiss account, and expenses paid by sponsors…bonus three million U.S. You choose how to split that amongst your team.”

Johnny looks at the two glasses of bourbon in front of him, and the Steinie next to them… “…another thing, you cost me an account with the cellular devices…but check this out, will ya? A Scandinavian company wants to know…I’m in the middle of headhunting the boss of a cellular patent holder….” Johnny drifts in and out of the conversation as he’s already thinking about the new job. “Also, do you know everything that you’re sending, or whoever it is sending on those things, is being monitored?” The broker’s statement, which is meant to do something to Johnny, falls on deaf ears as Johnny is already well into his plan for the next three years of his life. The visit from Litigatti, Le Mac, and Page over the weekend was along the same lines—only the spin they had been given was along the lines, “…the Cold War has been won, and we need a finale, and a new era…as the Space Race has turned out to be a one way ticket to the moon….”

Hannibal Ammer, the handler for Litigatti and the crew in the U.S., whom Johnny had brought together, was threatening to replace the “A” in LMLA-ink with his own kid, if Johnny didn’t somehow find his way into the U.S. Johnny had yet to meet his replacement, Tone Horroh, one of famed L.A. gangster Marcellus Wallace’s crew, but the raps on the kid were that he was ice cool with a penchant for blood.

Johnny notices that the broker has gone. He sees the man, who reminds one of Al Pacino, but in Donald Sutherland’s body—obviously a hangover from an overdose on Hollywood for the agent they call Mr. Businessman, to whom Ammer reports. He sees the broker make way for Lunar and Jerry, whom Mr. Businessman points at behind Jerry’s back as Jerry passes under the doorway’s arch. The broker’s gestures look like he’s talking on a phone made of his thumb and index finger, and then he points again at Jerry, who walks straight past Johnny without saying a word.

Johnny clicks to what the broker has just signalled to him as Lunar appears to Johnny’s right. “Jerry’s got the Memoir” is all Johnny has to say to his friend, who decides that it’s better to leave Johnny to be on his own for now.

Lunar looks down the end of the bar where he sees Aleisha at the jukebox that begins to play Dragon, as Jerry pulls Connie to her feet for a dance.

“Are you old enough?” Johnny, the snotty nosed kid from Wainuiomata, smiles to himself as he hears the lyrics in another context and he considers the answer, which he will provide in due course since he’s just been given an invite for his step into the big leagues….

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
(Wednesday, 22nd February 2012)

“Forever Now”

PART 1

Jimmy Barnes’ vocal chords fog the car’s windows as a joint is passed around. Johnny declines, and Jerry makes him pay for it. “You sure you’re not an undercover, eh bro?” Johnny smiles as he looks at Aleisha, who also declines. “You’d be so lucky,” Johnny says to Jerry. “And what’s that meant to mean, bro?” Jerry takes the joint before Lunar, whose turn it is, can take it from Connie. “Johnny’s a member of a secret vigilante cult; them motherfuckers catch you, they kill you…” Lunar says to Jerry, who takes a second, and then he tries to take a toke before he bursts out laughing.

“Special secret agent Johnny boy, good friends with Jerry Spontaneity, first cousins with Jerry Stutter-average-reading-age of ning!” Lunar Bois has an ability to wipe most conflict away with his quick tongue.

“Am I missing something here, bro? Am I his friend or cousin? Or has there been a discrepancy in the family tree?” Jerry manages to regain his breath as Johnny opens the car door and exits the scene.

PART 2

Aleisha dances to whatever. The liquor makes Aleisha shake her head till it begins to spin, and then she performs a green and blessed plant in the breeze, till vertigo fades. Connie watches youth and all its powers in the middle of her lounge as the loud music drowns the matters on each mind that is present in the room. The knock at the door says that it’s Johnny. Connie gets up to answer the door. Jerry is lost in Aleisha’s hair, which is flung about, taking him to another place. Lunar watches Jerry as Lunar tries figuring out the meaning of what Jerry said to him in the car on their way down to the bar this morning, “What’s good for the gander is only good for the gander….”

“The gander can do as he likes?” Lunar calls out to Jerry, who looks at him like Lunar’s just done something far worse than fucking his missus, which Lunar is positive Jerry knows about. “Sorry, dude; just thinking out loud….” Lunar’s apology seems to do the trick as Jerry goes back to watching Aleisha.

PART 3

Johnny waits for someone to come to the door. Inside Jerry and Connie’s place is Lunar, who has to be up for an appointment in a few hours that will give him the break he requires.

Loud music makes Johnny wonder whether they can hear him, and then light changes behind the frosted glass, followed by the door being closed; the action makes Johnny think they have decided to ignore him since he knocked his knock. But then a shadow appears, which turns out to be Connie from her dark hair and figure. Johnny waits for Connie to open the door, which doesn’t happen. Instead, he sees Connie pull up her top, and then she pulls down her bra and places her breasts against the glass. Johnny looks around at the sleeping neighbourhood—his reaction to what’s happening in front of him….

The game of peek-a-boo that ensues, once Johnny has managed to talk Connie into opening the door, is as excruciating as was Connie’s mission to open it. Visions of Jerry finding them in the awkward situation run through Johnny’s mind; he has already checked whether the back door was open. “Open up, and I’ll make it up to you another time,” Johnny had repeatedly offered Connie….

In the end, Johnny gives up; he turns around and leaves. The last thing he heard, as he made his way down the stairs, was Cold Chisel in the background when Connie opened the door.

Johnny walks quickly down the path, imagining what it will look like when he hears behind him Connie standing in the middle of the street, calling him an “Asshole!” Followed by Jerry shouting at him, “I’ll fucking find you in the morning….”

“Forever Now…”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
(Thursday, 23rd February 2012)

“Fame”

PART 1

Bowie in the sky, whom Lunar has to look at to keep control when Connie does what she does, says:

“Fame, makes a man take things over….”

Like most surprises, if you knew you’d agree to them….

Connie massages her breasts as Jerry’s snoring creates a backdrop for Lunar that even he couldn’t have imagined. The touch of her hair, which covers her face when she places her hands on Lunar’s chest to take a look at where their bodies join, is almost too much for Lunar—he has to suck in air to stop him from losing control.

Lunar had told Connie to leave open the door to the room. Now it creates a draft on his legs and other places where he begins to feel sweat, as well as sweetness from what Connie loves to do. Lunar gathers Connie by the hind and the tops of her legs as he massages her movements to meet his fantasy, which burns to let her know how he feels.

“I’m pregnant….” Connie announces as she responds to Lunar’s touch. Jerry’s snoring grows louder….

PART 2

“…Isn’t it any wonder
I reject you first….”

Outside the window, David Bowie marinades mindless thought with fantasy….

Aleisha lies on her side; her head is heavy and her mind still intoxicated with nowhere else but the pillow to make it feel better. The glass of water on the bedside cabinet shows ripples, the effect of what she can hear through the wall. Her Ne0—Sliver, which lies next to her, flashes as it receives a msg in response to her response to the other sender’s response in a chain of idle chat that has become intense to say the least. N-ME is obviously asleep, but N-BB is awake, alive and kicking, and suggesting that they meet at the Park Royal for a drink.

PART 3

“…lets him loose ... fame fame
I'm the man that takes things over…”

Bowie helps, as Johnny steps down Courtney Place in stride with those on their way to the office. The Ne0—Black Box goes off in his pocket, reminding him of his meeting with someone whom he’s already on his way to see....

Inside the fast-food restaurant at breakfast time, Johnny looks around the place, searching for someone for whom Johnny only has a description: early thirties, family man, no nonsense type of character.

He spots two people fitting the description and eliminates one of them from his missing wedding band. Johnny walks over to the table at the window facing Victoria Street, where the man eats his breakfast while he reads the Dominion, the morning paper.

“May I?” Johnny asks as he places a hand on the chair opposite the man, who ignores Johnny. Johnny reaches into his pocket and brings out his “Ne0—Black Box,” and places it on the table. No sooner has Johnny set the thing down than it flips as another txt msg arrives.

The manager of the radio station, where Lunar could’ve started work today, sits back and looks around the eatery, and then at Johnny to take a seat.

“These are the future,” Johnny says as he takes the seat. “Only problem is, you’ve taken from me my best man, Lunar Bois….” Johnny tells the boss. Johnny can tell from the look on the man’s face that his patience is wearing thin—he could have used a phone call explaining that Lunar was sick. But then the Black Box does another flip and the married man catches the phone and takes a look at it.

“Touch on the envelope,” Johnny says. The boss, with a complexion that suggests he has Maori in his blood, looks at Johnny. “You’re that DJ, right? At the club?” And then the boss does as he’s told. “Use the typewriter to respond to the message…say something nice….” Johnny says, ignoring the boss’ question about who he is. “Now send it….” Johnny instructs the man….

Half an hour later, the boss places the Black Box down on the table. Johnny looks at him, “Lunar Bois has what it takes…but he has issues….” Johnny says as the phone flips. This time, Johnny catches it and places it back in his pocket.

“I need him to start next Monday,” says the boss, looking certain as he looks at Johnny’s chest where the Black Box continues to flip from txt msgs being received.

Johnny takes the Ne0—Black Box from his pocket and hands it to the boss, who takes it from Johnny like its candy. Johnny holds out his hand for the boss to shake, who takes a moment to figure out which hand to use. In a muddle, he holds out his left hand turned backwards for Johnny to shake.

“…Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame….”

ACT III
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
(Friday, 24th February 2012)

“Notorious”

PART 1

Lunar Bois opens the car door, quietly. The fresh air is a welcome reprieve for Lunar, who has nothing to say for himself. In the front seat, Jerry is at the wheel and in the passenger seat is Hone, who is still as can be. Next to Lunar is JRA. The sun rising over the city is beneath them at the top of Mt. Victoria.

Lunar places a foot on the ground and then he steps out of the car. A black Air New Zealand 777 to commemorate the “World Cup” glides past as Wellingtonians raise their heads—and raise their minds on a thread as read by followers around the world in WELLY STORY. Inside the silver late model European car, the Cut-Throat-Creative irons out kinks in the storyline when he comes clean like fire through a cornfield of maize.

The boss’ reaction to the exposé—due to hit the walls of the New Global Realm sometime this morning, and in which the head honcho’s mistress from back in the day, a school girl who is now working for him, along with their love child—will be interesting to say the least.

As for Jerry, he is over the past….His eldest boy is graduating from law school this year. And his daughter, a former Netball representative, has given him a five-year old grandson.

Lunar realises who his friend Johnny Alfabet is…. “Look at what he’s done? Do you need to question whether he’s capable?” Lunar asks himself the rhetorical question that is on every follower and knocker’s mind alike, concerning whether John Reyer Afamasaga is aware of what seems like a trap that’s been set for him, in which he tries to make it as a writer. Lunar looks down into the car where JRA continues to tell Hone the truth about his beginnings. “Take Johnny-Whoever-He-Is out of the equation, and what do you have?” Lunar thinks of what his brother Victor in Australia—an expert on Johnny—keeps telling everyone….

The All Black 777 touches down on the tarmac at Wellington airport as the LATEST UPLOAD featuring TRUFUNK Soldiers Duran Duran, who sound out the theme for the chapter, hits JRA’s Facebook page, in which Johnny Alfabet carves up a feast for everyone to conceive. “In your own time…” Lunar hears his friend’s mocking words….

PART 2

Aleisha wipes her eyes as she reads the LATEST UPLOAD in bed. A paternity test would’ve done little to satisfy her needs as a woman.

The txt msg from her boss, one of many that began over the last twenty-four hours, says he’s been thinking of her….

Aleisha turns over onto her other side, as another one arrives, reminding Aleisha that she’s now the “Bendon Girl!”

Her memory, cached for all these years as it seems, begins to flow. The past and the present mingle, blended by JRA in the story-about-the-story that the Cut-Throat-Creative has survived to write on the streets of the town where it all began.

Aleisha already feels the burden of the writer’s guiding hand, for which she is grateful, but today, its spoiling touch is a weight the former stripper could do without. Inclusion in his story has its price. Exclusion from his mind’s work is excruciatingly painful for someone who thought she meant something to Johnny Alfabet.

Aleisha drags herself out of bed as she relies on the boss to do the right thing—whatever that may be—to appease Johnny, a meticulous planner who obviously has “his” cast’s best interests at heart. At least, that’s what Aleisha tells herself since her Valentine’s Day gift has already withered and died in Aleisha’s mind.

Aleisha makes her way to the shower with words from the latest chapter’s theme in her head:

“…Girls will keep the secrets
So long as boys make a noise…”

PART 3

John Reyer thanks Jerry with a tap on the car’s roof as Hone steps out onto the pavement into the middle of the audience that is making its way down the railway station’s steps during morning rush hour. Lunar Bois, feeling the Welly wind on his head, covers it with a beanie as he hops out of the silver vehicle where the past was hopefully laid to rest in the LMLA-ink styled session—an all-night vigil for Hone’s sake.

“No, No, Notorious” Duran Duran, from back in the day, makes the transition to the present day seamless. Five o’clock shadows on the faces of WELLY STORY’s leading characters out front of Wellington Rail Station tell the passersby that the story they read is real.

JRA sees the lighting truck on Bunny Street, followed by the costume trailer. Next he sees Lunar’s boss’ car. Lunar’s boss has kept his end of the bargain when he looked after Lunar, taking Lunar Bois with him to where Lunar is today—something of which Lunar is now only aware. The boss’ car drives by the convoy of film unit vehicles for the TVC on the inside lane and turns into the station. The car cruises as if the driver has not seen or read the revelations that marginalise someone in his demographic. JRA looks at Lunar, who is on his fourth coffee. Johnny tries to calm his friend, who feels responsible for the mess, by saying, “Ease up; it’s the greatest game on earth…the coliseum, virtual. Julius Caesar is untouchable; Brutus turns the knife on himself…watch this, Teflon as man…” Lunar shakes his head at his friend’s attitude. Johnny is a spoilt child when he doesn’t get his way, a menacing figure when he does and nice as pie when he’s supposed to be the bad guy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
(Saturday, 25th February 2012)

“Only a Metaphor”

PART 1

Lunar Bois retraces his career path, which includes untold visits to rehab, the psych ward, and overnighters in the clink…each time his boss was there to bail him out. The idea that the boss’ leniency was a favour to John Reyer begins to make sense, and then the reason for such a favour begins to pester Lunar; after all, the story is merely a story—in which most people would trade their souls for the infamy of having JRA cast them in history—or is it?

Lunar sees Hone, who is meant to be one of the stars of the TVC that’s come to a standstill before the filming has even begun. The kid, who is in shock, needs a helping hand to get him through. Aleisha seems to be coping, but for how long? JRA is toe-to-toe with the boss, who’s lost the smile on his face.

Lunar remembers the outline of the story-about-the-story-being-written, “Johnny wants a piece of the action in the world of advertising….” The metaphor, which the Cut-Throat-Creative has achieved in retaliation to the boss hijacking his idea when he offered Johnny’s cast for “WELLY STORY” parts in his own campaign, reeks of blackmail. Johnny has once again muscled his way in on someone’s turf, as far as Lunar, who has bought into Johnny’s version of what happened, is concerned….

PART 2

Hone takes a coffee from the tray and hands it to Aleisha. The act feels natural, but it’s an act, as the kid hasn’t let the news of who his neighbour is sink in yet. His Black Box flips in his pocket, and Hone takes it and looks at the phone.

“WTF? She’s your old lady????”  The txts keep on coming.

Lunar walks over to the mother and son, as the story-about-the-story-being-written would have it. Aleisha feels her phone go off as Lunar smiles for the mobiles around them that are sending uploads of what’s going down.

“Shocking speller, Sliver is Silver,” Lunar says, trying to ease the load on Aleisha who wants to reach for what has turned out to be a sliver in her life that dates back to when she first met Johnny in the picture theatre on a Saturday morning all those years ago. Aleisha is still not sure how it came to be. There she was watching Vincent Ward’s Vigil:

Her father is dead. Isolated and alone in the broken hills, a young girl watches an intruder enter her world. He moves in with her mother. On the brink of puberty, she feels a growing tension, knowing she must defend her valley. She must remove him.

When Aleisha had entered the Dixon Street Cinema, she’d noticed someone sitting in the middle of the empty theatre on his own; his broad shoulders suggested to her that he seemed safe—probably why Aleisha chose to sit down in front of him.

“My third time seeing it,” the voice behind her had said in the dark, to which she replied, in her school uniform, “Me too,” about the R13 film.

PART 3

JRA shakes hands with the man who has his other hand in the pocket of his overcoat. The crew and the cast, lined up outside the vehicles, watch the two men in the distance as they talk….

“I want you to hand me it…” John Reyer says in a calm voice. The boss looks around at the cast and crew who are costing him by the second as the Cut-Throat-Creative stands his ground.

“And I’ll read about it, and that’s meant to make everything better?” The boss tries his best to mask his anger.
“I like it; sounds real…” JRA seizes the moment. “You wanted me to write you in, ah?” John asks the man as he catches a glimpse of Aleisha out the corner of his eye.

The Ne0—Black Box flips inside the man’s pocket. The boss’ shoulder moves as his hand in his pocket tries to conceal what’s happening. “Still give you a kick like it used to?” JRA taunts the person he really needs to appease rather than rile right now.

“This ain’t no billion dollar pot of gold, Johnny, that I can cut you in on…this is my humble life….” The boss pleads with Johnny, without losing his dignity. “It’s not about the money, my friend….” Johnny smiles.

“A metaphor is a figure of speech, Johnny.” The boss is adamant not to lose his cool.

“The less tangible idea is your reputation in this one, mate….” Johnny reminds the boss of the context.

Johnny’s comment floats far enough for those waiting in the wind to hear. Committed footsteps from someone in heels, who can change Johnny’s mind, come towards Johnny and the boss, who has a look of despair on his face, which the crew and cast do not see.

“Here, have it…” Aleisha tries to sound apologetic, disguising what she really thinks about the situation as she hands Johnny the Sliver.

“And Cut!” Johnny feels like saying, but Aleisha is determined that she no longer wants to be under his spell when she takes Johnny’s hand and places the phone in his hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
(Sunday, 26th February 2012)

PART 1

Lunar brushes the front of his tux as Johnny arrives to play waiter for the boss’ birthday party.

“Aleisha, Connie’s…” Lunar pauses in search of what the girl is….“Aleisha’s one of the Hooter girls?” Johnny doesn’t do it often—let anyone know he’s aware of what’s going down—only when he needs to place doubt in the mind of someone who doesn’t appreciate the opportunities that Johnny, a playmaker in the context that all of this is game, provides for them.

“You’ll end up on the cutting room floor, dude.” Johnny’s eyes are as dark as can be, as he says what he says while taking the cigarette out of Lunar’s mouth to take a long hard drag on it before he tosses the butt on the ground and grinds it out with a pair of Italian shoes.
“Fuck, how much did they cost?” Lunar asks the Cut-Throat-Creative about his new shoes, which don’t quite go with his waiter’s uniform; he asks because he senses Johnny needs a distraction. “I’m moving up out of the Rogue trade,” is all Johnny can muster.

“Boss has been offered a job in an ad agency in Auckland…he’s taking me with him—” Lunar cuts his mate off from fear Johnny will continue on what those close to him term “a downward spiral.”

“Nice work mate.” Johnny forgets about his situation as Lunar confirms that his future is secure for the time being.

“One day I’ll come calling,” Johnny says covering up his delight. And Lunar feels like telling Johnny, who got work at the boss’ birthday party as a waiter through Lunar’s influence, “Get fucked!” It’s a phrase Lunar says every once in awhile to Johnny.

“Come again…?” Johnny looks up at Lunar, standing on the steps of McDonald’s Manners Mall. The building’s windows have been blocked with black paper to hide the decadent masquerade going on inside.

“I get you a job for the night, and this is how you repay me? Damn!” Lunar turns….

PART 2

Inside, behind the blacked out windows, Aleisha dances behind the counter of the fast-food restaurant, which has been transformed for the head honcho’s birthday bash. “Hooters meets McDonald’s” is the theme. The fact that she was handpicked by the birthday boy, who dances with his wife in front of the counter, makes Aleisha feel special. More special than the strippers, who make up the numbers of women in wet t-shirts who serve the guests made up of industry people, a healthy number of local celebrities, one or two back benchers, and a trio from the business round table.

Aleisha catches a glimpse of her reflection in the blacked out window as she waits for the next customer to step up to the counter. The slight bump in her tummy is a welcome trade-off for the curve of her breasts and the roundness that only her skirt can cover when she manages to keep still from the excitement of her newfound world. Coming to Welly was no longer a chore. Time spent with Johnny was worth the trip. A new car from the boss and trips to Auckland and Sydney as his secretary were the icing on the cake. The fact that Johnny didn’t mind “as long as he doesn’t touch you…” worked for Aleisha.

“Would you like me to pour? Or would you prefer to pour it yourself?” Aleisha presents herself in her role for the evening as she sees Johnny in a waiter’s uniform.

Aleisha watches the round hole and the bottle’s lip. And then champagne begins to gush as it flows from the bottle and over her top. The eyes of the male, who is in his sixties, light up when they see the cold liquid’s effect as it runs down the front of the teenage girl’s body.

“Excuse me, sir; I think your heart will not respect you….” Johnny, who’s appeared out of nowhere in the place that’s shoulder-to-shoulder, takes the bottle from the customer.

“Would you like me with that?” Aleisha manages to say to the man, who is in a daze with a spare smile on his face. Johnny turns the man around and guides him away from the counter; the man is satisfied with the service Aleisha has provided.

“He hassling you?” The brown cigar smoke crosses Aleisha’s path of sight before she hears two voices. First the boss, or “Beau,” which he prefers for Aleisha to call him, and then Lunar’s street-smart snarl. The two of them refer to the same person; it’s only when Johnny, who makes his way through the crowded place, arrives in front of the counter where Lunar and the boss stand that Aleisha realises whom they’re talking about.

“Chaps,” Johnny begins—his mood has gone from sour to merciful, Lunar notices, as Johnny puts on his “butter won’t melt in my mouth” act.

“Good help is hard to find these days….” The boss looks at Johnny in a waiter’s uniform and then at Lunar. “Come on; let’s go do some lines together, mate,” says the boss, putting his arm around Lunar’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks Aleisha, who doesn’t feel like being seen talking to him right now….

PART 3

February 25th 2012, and JRA finds circumstantial evidence in everything around him that leads him to a conclusion, which the former DJ, cook, womaniser, courier, cleaner, street fighter, administrator, hacker, labourer, assassin, gardener, hit man, librarian, thief, customer service rep, dispatcher, gigolo, sandwich hand, salesman, dishwasher, operative, project manager, grocery boy, driver, extra, assistant accountant, drug dealer, analyst, poet, software developer, model, con artist, costing clerk, concept designer, volunteer, graphic designer, manager, call centre operator, IBM’er, mercenary, web designer, team leader, office assistant, high roller, gambler, and now struggling writer can blame on the many lives he’s lived and their sordid pasts, which all meddle with his mind. The drifter needs first to decipher fact from fiction because there are so many versions of the so-called “truth.” Then he must create an excuse that will give him cause to do what he has to do. And finally, he has to deliver something—anything—to justify the time he’s spent in his life under various guises which leave gaping holes in time, and for which he has no alibi. The fact is that he feels as if every move he makes is being watched, and every interaction in which the participant regurgitates the same old questions he’s had to answer for over ten years, now is being monitored. Circumstantial or factual, he feels he must be some big deal from how everyone seems intrigued by him and what he has to say, which bores him to no end. But Johnny knows he’s onto something as the warm hum of the F3quenZor begins to do its thing. A quick check of what’s happening online, and then a deduction by nano particles of thought to cross-check the telepathic message that will be affirmed throughout the day, and John Reyer will have an idea of what will happen today.

“Female…family photo, not interested.” It’s a thought rather than a voice…. “Janice.” And then a name of someone who hates him…followed by what he’s done well over the last while….“Fence thought, everyone loves a good sport….” Every now and then a friend or a mate will drop a sign. His proudest moment yet was in the days leading up to the World Cup final when Graham Henry told the world to “Relax….” JRA and his beautiful delusional mind—which he’s been told he has many a time over the years, and which he chooses to listen to this time—is a memoranda that marvels most normal people and irks most, leaving him the most loved, and then most loathed man alive. Jekyll & Hyde are reconciled; then they swap places and begin to question who they are in each other’s skin….House meets Batman, and Bruce Wayne outwits the doctor, forcing House to belittle the caped one. Only nerve gas in Batman’s utility belt saves Batman from eternal damnation.

Johnny types out his thoughts onscreen, online for those who bother, and on time for those who rely on his act to make their day.

He ponders the past as he decides on his future, here in front of the masses that his game relies on. The dissemination of reality from fiction, as presented in his work that morphs everyday life with a story that has touched more lives than any other idea in recent times, is no longer under his control—his heart tells him he must continue on with the experience people the world over will take with them to the grave in order to keep the dream alive….

John reads over his morning’s work before he has to disappear and then reappear as a telemarketer in his day job….

JRA, a realist in a fictional world that appears every time he comes in contact with someone, finds a seat on the Island Bay bus that’ll take him into town for his day job. The plan for the next eight years of his life is woven in code throughout the story that nears an end or a pause as the Cut-Throat-Creative gets ready to reinvent himself in the End-to-End Saga yet again. The powers that be still have questions, and there is no shortage of those who will try their best to test the Mastermind—a futile mission when you consider whose idea it was in the beginning.

Dreams of a Google buy-out still fascinate the dreamer. Behavioural experts have deciphered the real John from the character in the story-about-the-story-being-written: he writes for his freedom from a past he left behind a long time ago….

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(Monday, 27th February 2012)

“I don’t want to say I love you…”

PART 1

Lunar lets his heavy mind settle on the barrier where he sits with his legs hanging over the edge. Down to his left is Beau the boss and his new missus. Out on the water’s edge is Aleisha. Visions of Connie radiate from the girl, who touches the incoming waves with her foot.

Johnny is in town for the day. Hopefully, he’ll stay till Wednesday when he has to return to the Mount where he’s a full-time DJ now in a nightclub.

John Sr.’s taxi pulls up outside Freyberg Pool. The reason why Lunar knows about what his old mate is up to is that every night after hitting the town, Lunar calls Johnny’s dad, a cab driver, to pick him up. The ride may be only a few hundred metres, but it makes Lunar feel like he’s still in touch with someone he continues to think of as a brother.

Out of the yellow cab hops the enigmatic figure who still haunts Lunar in his matted life, in which Lunar and the boss, Beau, now have more in common than ever. Aleisha still talks about Johnny even when they’re in bed, something which Lunar can handle at times, and at other times, he strains to restrain himself from lashing out to remind Aleisha of how manipulative his friend is.

Lunar looks at where Johnny stands at the beginning of the concrete wall that Lunar sits on. He sees Johnny immediately spot the woman. Johnny’s presence makes her seem like heaven and sea have listened to her pleas, which Lunar neglects from fear they stem from her time with Johnny.

Lunar is someone who knows what it feels like to be around Johnny, and his charisma is disguised in throwaway lines that pepper someone’s mind with small wit for elongated context. The Guy’s influence sows its seed wherever it finds fertile soil since one is usually is in strife, desperately searching for an answer to a stone wall that rises without end into a dismal and grey sky.

Lunar takes a deep breath as he looks at the blue sky to assure him that this is not a scene in one of his nemesis’ plots, which Johnny has always threatened since they first met that he would write—that threat is another thing that plays heavy on the Creative Director’s mind when he considers Johnny’s ability that would put almost any of the award-winning creative Lunar’s peers to shame.

PART 2

“I don’t want to say I love you…”

“Message to My Girl” floats along the promenade. Down on the beach, standing in the lingering sea’s tide, which threatens to retreat if no one wants to wash his or her soul, is Aleisha.

The wee waves wash her wishes out to sea; the white tips that make it to shore touch her toes, and then they return to the sea, leaving Aleisha feeling like someone’s hand holds her to keep her from drifting out to sea.

Aleisha wonders about where the music is coming from. When déjà vu begins, the circumstances that gift her a delightful fantasy escape her. Her role as a live-in nanny now for Beau and his second wife is not ideal; nor is it the worst case scenario for someone in her situation.

Aleisha runs her hand down her flat tummy; it makes her wonder about the baby and what he looks like. He’d be turning two today if her memory—she sometimes chooses to neglect it—serves her right on a day when she feels strong enough to face them.

“Aleisha!” Beau Jr. and Featherstone’s voices interrupt Aleisha’s moment. She looks over her shoulder to where Beau and his new wife sit under a beach umbrella in deck chairs, watching her like they’re scrutinising her. Aleisha smiles for them, and then the two boys each grab a leg, almost causing Aleisha to lose her balance.

“Go home…” Aleisha hears the voice that sits comfortably with her thoughts right now.

“I don’t want to say I love you….” Neil Finn’s voice melds well with the voice in spoken word, telling Aleisha to go home. “Poetic Justice?” Aleisha ponders what would have happened if she had never been born? Lunar had let slip that Johnny was in town today. Moving to Welly was a logical move. It was made easier when Johnny moved on, and when her stepdad died after being gunned down in Sydney Australia’s Kings Cross, an unfortunate incident adding to the many bad memories. Aleisha’s mother had remarried, and the stepdaughters she inherited seemed more to her mother’s liking than her own daughter.

“Alee-sha…” Beau Jr., who has a speech impediment, manages to say her name, and then the boy with the most wonderful smile points somewhere. “Look, Lunar is going….”

Aleisha smiles for the boy’s parents; they are under the umbrella, and they pay her well. As Aleisha smiles, in the distance she sees Johnny, who then turns and vanishes from sight, like he did two years ago.

PART 3

Johnny opens the door of the taxi and hops out onto the parade on a classic Welly summer’s day.

“Pick me up in ten minutes, please,” Johnny says to the cab driver, and then he closes the door.

Johnny closes the door and looks down the parade to where he sees his mate Lunar Bois, whom he hasn’t caught up with for nearly two years. Ten minutes is better than nothing with his old mate, who by all accounts has settled nicely into his role as Beau; a superstar now in advertising’s top creative director.

Split Enz hits the airwaves with a song that brings back memories. JRA shields his eyes to find the reason for the elegant moment he’s created when it feels as if he’s the conduit that connects unsuspecting lives in motion on Oriental Parade this summer’s day.

He sees the familiar figure of someone he once knew in the context that when things become complicated, then you take the next exit on the journey to finding the arterial route to one’s destiny.

Aleisha…two children—one who looks like he’s two, the other older—rush to her. Johnny’s mind begins to imagine the backstory from this point that would explain what he sees. He had washed his hands of Lunar, Aleisha, and everyone in that scene so he could focus on his real job, for which he found himself a job in the mailroom of Radio NZ. The anonymity of delivering the mail didn’t last long when someone challenged Johnny to becoming a studio operator in Broadcasting House on Bowen Street. Soon, Johnny became concerned that he was beginning to rise in the organisation, which would leave an imprint of who he is or colophon of his being there at a particular time in the lives of people, some famous, or well on their way to the limelight—Paul Homes, Maggie Barry, Pauline Gillespie, Grant Kereama, Nick Tansley, Dick Weir…. An offer to work full-time as a DJ at the club where he’d been working for over a year now, juggling late nights and his day job, along with his real job, was timely. He was already building close relationships with people at his day job, something he couldn’t really afford to do. His parents were proud of him, and so was his girlfriend. Access to Parliament as a Radio NZ employee was invaluable for the operative. Meeting the Prime Minister, a spirited leader and anti-nuclear advocate, with passion and presence on two occasions, in what seemed to the Big Guy as accidental, led to a friendship that proved pivotal in Johnny’s rise in the ranks of the Network. Nothing came close to sitting in the Press Gallery, watching the PM, an astute communicator (an orator in Johnny’s upbringing as a Samoan). Viewing the PM from the Press Gallery became one of Johnny’s lunchtime activities and favourite pastimes during that time of his life….

“Long time no see…” Johnny hears Lunar’s entrance from his side. Johnny looks out the corner of his eye to see Lunar looking where he’s looking. “Beau’s boys,” Lunar says, reading Johnny’s mind. Lunar can tell it comes as a relief when he hands Johnny a white can of steinie.

“She still loves you man…” Lunar’s words sound like an admission. Johnny has to look at his friend to see whether what Johnny suspects is true as he cracks open the can of beer.

The toot of a car horn makes Johnny quickly hand Lunar the can of beer. Lunar looks over his shoulder to see Johnny’s dad in the yellow cab, here to pick up Johnny to take him to the airport since Johnny flew down from Tauranga this morning to see his girlfriend for a few hours, and he has to return for a gig on the beach at Mount Maunganui this afternoon.

“I don’t smoke, don’t drink, and I still haven’t watched a cartoon….” Johnny smiles still with one eye on the woman in the sun. “Take care of her man,” Johnny says, looking his mate in the eye when he once again saves him from having to face the truth.

Lunar watches the person who at the age of six would climb the lamppost outside their home to escape punishment as Johnny walks off towards his dad, who waits for him in the yellow cab.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
(Tuesday, 28th February 2012)

(Your Favourite…)

PART 1

February 28, 2012—Leap Year. The extra day tomorrow will nullify the doomsayer’s morbid fascination with an end that cannot happen as Lunar watches JRA—whom George Clooney could play, if the famous actor could gather up the ends of John Reyer’s character and tie-down his meandering cadences that result from his apparent benevolence and concern for mankind—as JRA dons headphones. The turntables in front of John Reyer Afamasaga, an author now, look like pages JRA could fill in the next breath that allows him to conceive the next idea, which you may not have thought of already.

The boss looks appeased for now, out on the balcony of Lunar’s office, as catering staff present platters of food for the guests at the champagne breakfast. Bendon’s top woman, who has flown in from London, tips her glass as a waiter pours champagne down the flute she tilts.

Elle Macpherson on the Wall of Vision composed of her many faces that make up a grid at the end of a deserted room.

Lunar sees the Wall of Dreams, and then the nightmares that became fantasies. Someone, or maybe a panel that he cannot see, judges what’s being uploaded from mobiles, laptops in airport lounges, and home computers from which a housewife connects to the rest of the world.

PART 2

Aleisha looks out over the city that comes alive one last time for the man who mixes in the theme for “WELLY STORY.” Courtney Place is abuzz as word on the grapevine says it will be immortalised as it is today, the time when JRA came home to find “CIRCUMSTANTIAL” evidence that created the wave that sweeps over him every time he sits down at his computer to write so as to pass the time until the Network send him his next assignment; today’s wave comes from an outpouring of emotion by those who wait on every comma for his next words and not something that he imagines.

The front of Aleisha’s overcoat begins to blow down where her hands in the pocket can’t keep it from exposing her smooth legs. Her hair with a wave flows perfectly on a stream the wind provides. From her balcony, she looks across at the former DJ and Lunar on the balcony of Lunar’s office where JRA spins the record. His grey hair doesn’t seem to make any difference to the sound he can make coming from the speakers, which is bringing people out onto their balconies.

Hone waits for the director’s voice before he comes out onto the balcony of his apartment. The thousands of extras down on the street begin their parts, giving Hone, a shy guy, the rush he needs as he takes his wireless mic for his part….

PART 3

“Like father, like son…mannerisms frighteningly similar.” JRA takes heed of the messages on the F3quenZor as he crosses the street to get to Mr Patel’s dairy. “Don King Scouts SBW For World Title Shot!” shout the headlines outside the shop about Sonny Bill Williams, an All Black and most likely now a World Heavyweight Title Contender. The mention of Williams, the ultimate athlete whom JRA would’ve cast as John Alfabet in the ill-fated GLOBAL ATTACK, makes John Reyer think back over the last ten years. An email to one of the partners in the GA idea, that could’ve been the biggest thing on the planet, if it weren’t for the fact that JRA had set the idea up to alert the intelligence community of his coming out of the cold, post-9/11, is brief and to the point.

“I have a new project that I'm working on which will be for a NZ TV series....”

JRA laughs to himself about another message about someone calling him the “Old Man….” As a taxi passes him by, he looks the other way and not at the driver. For a moment, John forgets where he is. When he gathers his thoughts up, he finds himself facing the opposite direction, looking at where the bus arrives to take him to Courtney Place.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
(Wednesday, 29th February 2012)

(R.I.P)

PART 1

Lunar sits side on, talking to John Sr. at the wheel of his cab. In the middle of the backseat, Johnny holds a baby, a newborn baby.

“Ssshh….” Johnny looks at Lunar and then at his dad.

“Hone,” Johnny says to the baby boy, whose eyes are still closed.

“Kupu mea ia…lou malaia….” Lunar sits back as hears John Sr. scold his son; the church elder looks at his eldest boy in the backseat, who could’ve been a doctor.

“I’m cursed…” Johnny says, looking at the baby in his arms, interpreting for Lunar what his father had said.

“Turn the radio on…” Johnny says as he looks out the window.

“2 a.m. in Welly…” the announcer says, and then without a further ado...“If I should stay, I’d only be in your way…” Whitney Houston doesn’t make things any easier for Johnny.

The music, made of a silk voice, shuts out this unrelenting storyline that Johnny battles against to keep alive; his role is as the antagonist when he tries to fix things and protagonist in the minds of those who want him to be the bad guy, because it’s easier to accept him that way. Lunar’s mouth continues on as his dad’s anger is obvious. The baby in his arms sleeps soundly, but when it wakes, it will want its mother to bond with.

“Nature versus Nurture?” Johnny asks out loud as Ms. Houston sings the theme to a scene he’ll someday write, somehow.

PART 2

Aleisha sobs as she hands Johnny the baby. The doctor and nurse in the private hospital look the other way. Lunar appears through the door with an announcement for Johnny.

“Come on; Dad’s downstairs!” Everything that is said is in a whisper. “I hope you boys know what you’re doing…” The nurse’s voice reminds Lunar and Johnny of the people around them.

Johnny leans forward and puts his arms around Aleisha, whose eyes he cannot see from the tears. The baby in between them is still making Johnny pull back, but still holding Aleisha.

Lunar looks away when Aleisha grabs Johnny’s face. The Ne0—Sliver on the bedside cabinet goes off, forcing Johnny to let go of Aleisha, who still won’t let go of him. Johnny slips a hand into his suit pocket and produces a plane ticket that he places on the bedside cabinet, and then he quickly takes the baby from the weeping woman and exits through the door that Lunar holds open for him.

Aleisha slowly turns onto her side as the doctor and then nurse exit the room en route to her bed where their sympathies are duly forgotten as Aleisha tunes out. The sound of elevator doors opening and closing down the corridor is a precursor for what doesn’t seem like it will happen anytime soon—the end—to this suffering.

Aleisha reaches for the radio on the wall. Knowing Johnny, he might be listening to the radio… is Aleisha’s last conscious thought before she hears an appropriate closing to this chapter of her life, a view on life a girl of Aleisha’s age shouldn’t have.

PART 3

Jerry holds Connie’s back as the doctors take away the stillborn baby. Her screaming is okay in the maternity ward. The cellular goes off in Jerry’s pocket….

***

“Please check your balance,” JRA looks at the SNAPPER card reader that tells him what to do as he steps down from the bus and onto Courtney Place.

Circumstantial evidence litters the street…half-hearted smiles, venomous taunts drift as males of a certain age pass him by. Women his age, half his age, and then some, some of them still teary eyed for his LATEST UPLOAD, exchange glances with the mellow figure in grey who makes his way down the street.

The theme song for the final chapter, which came to be when Ms. Whitney Houston passed away during the “WELLY STORY,” spills out into the sunlight from someone walking by.

The theme from The Bodyguard fills JRA’s mind with the past as he looks to the next step in his journey. His next guise will be Metofeaz Litigatti, a sniper turned bodyguard who goes to New York (when he’s relieved of his duties) in search of family that he’s read in a diary that he has. Johnny looks around the place for someone whom he hasn’t seen before, so he can scan his or her mind, which will have the latest news about what’s being said about him. He finds three people on opposite sides of the street. The three unsuspecting players glance at JRA for a moment. The Cut-Throat-Creative locks them in his line of sight as he cross-references data they unwillingly submit from seeing the writer in person….