Everything. Every movement, every touch. The only thing left was determining who would be the final one of us to visit the Bimbo Throne…Chrissie or .... ***** Michael- the backstage manager- was scrambling around like a crazed weasel. ‘Reset the lighting! Jose! Andale! Have those drapes been refolded? Get a mechanic to oil those stage rails! Chip! Chip? CHIP! Get those boxes moved or I’ll send your ass back to that butchy wife of yours! What?!? What do you mean, a pipe broke? Get an emergency. Upon hearing about my latest adventure, Marcie was cautiously apprehensive. "I don't like it. You could be hurt," she said.I told her about the showdown with Charlie, omitting that it took place at three A.M. with all four of us sitting at the kitchen table, naked. The fact that Charlie was going to start paying rent placated her and we ended the conversation with her making a final observation about Erica. "How can you give her the desk if she won't tell you where she lives?"I had to admit. More

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