Her feet found her fuzzy sippers without conscious thought. She didn’t think about her hair until her hand was already on the knob. He was tapping g...ntly again.She swung the door open to find Bobby standing there in a jacket, stocking cap, and gloves. The cold air assaulted her body and she felt her nipples crinkle.“Hi,” he said, just standing there.“It’s freezing,” she said. “Come in!”“Are you okay?” he asked, as he moved past her.“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she grumbled.“You look...” His voice. And still she persists. She waits outside the bars for the chance to collar a network big wig, outside Western Avenue massage parlours to tug on the coat-tails of TV station managers, vice presidents, camera men, for God's sake.I don't understand it. She can't think that I need to pester the ass-holes for anything... I mean I could have whatever they have to give by making one phone call. Ever since I started in on the new TV series for Philo, she's gotten so much worse. I think she thinks that. More

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