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My what?
Your pronunciation!
Hey, you want me to say all close funny words and pemounce everyt ing your way? At de same time?
Come on!
Take it from, What s the trouble, cousin.
BEN
What s the trouble, cousin?
FROM
I dunno. Must a been somet in I picked up back on Rigel Six.
Maybe a b... a virus or somet ing.
BEN
(With a grin.) Or that Capulet girl you were eyeing, Julie.
FROM grabs Ben s lapels and lifts him out of his chair.
FROM
(With some heat.) Hey, I don t mess around with Capulets. Dey re our enemies!
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BEN
(Frightened.) Okay . . . okay! I was only joking.
FROM
(Lets him go. He drops back into his seat.) Some t ings you shouldn t kid about. . . . Go on back and
grab somet ing to eat. I ll take over.
BEN
(Glad to get away.) Sure. It s all yours, cousin.
BEN hurries off-camera. FROM sits at the command console, stares out at the stars.
FROM
(Pensively.) All close stars ... all dat emptiness. I wish she was right here, instead of back on Rigel Six.
JULIE steps out from behind the electronic computer, where she s been hiding since she stowed away
on the Montague starship.
JULIE
(Shyly.) I am here, FROM. I stowed away aboard your ship.
FROM
(Dumbfounded.) You... you...
Hey, Mitch, what th hell s my next line?
Cut!!!
From up in the control booth, Les Montpelier kept telling himself, It s not as bad as it looks. They ll fix
up all the goofs in the editing process. Maybe we can even get somebody to dub a voice over Dulaq s
lines. He looks pretty good, at least.
At that moment, Dulaq was pointing to the blank side wall of the set, where the Capulets starship would
be matted in on the final tape.
How d your ship catch up wit us so soon? he was asking Rita Yearling. But he was looking neither at
her nor the to-be-inserted view of the other starship. He was peering, squint-eyed, toward Mitch
Westerly. The director had his face sunk in his hands, as if he were crying.
Rita looks stunning, said Gregory Earnest, with a hyena s leer on his face.
She sure does, Montpelier agreed. But there s something wrong about her . . . something. . . .
Rita s face was all dewy-cheeked youth, her eyes wide and blue as a new spring sky. But her body was
adult seductress and she slinked around the set with the practiced undulations of a bellydancer.
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. . . Something about her that doesn t seem quite right for the character she s supposed to be playing,
Montpelier finished.
The audience will love her, Earnest said. We ve got to give them a little pizazz.
Montpelier started to answer, but hesitated. Maybe he s right.
And Dulaq looks magnificent, the Canadian went on.
Look at that costume. Shows plenty of muscles, doesn t it? Earnest s voice was almost throbbing with
delight.
Too bad it doesn t cover his mouth, Montpelier said.
Earnest shot him an angry glance.
On the set, Dulaq was staring off into space. He thought he was looking at the red light of an active
camera unit, as Westerly had instructed him to do. Actually, he was fixing his gaze on a red exit sign
glowing in the darkness on the other end of the huge studio. Dulaq s eyes weren t all that good.
I know it s wrong, he was saying, But I love you, Julie. I m mad about you.
Rita was entwining herself about his muscular frame, like a snake climbing a tree.
And I love you, from darling, she breathed. The boom microphone, over her head, seemed to wilt in
the heat of her torridly low-pitched voice.
That s a shy, innocent young girl? Montpelier asked rhetorically.
Dulaq finally focused his ruggedly handsome gaze on her, as their noses touched. Suddenly he gave a
strangled growl and clutched at her. Rita shrieked and they both went tumbling to the floor.
Cut! Mitch Westerly yelled. Cut!
The cameramen were grinning and training their equipment on the squirming couple. Then, out of the
crowd, came a blur of fury.
Ron Gabriel leaped on Dulaq s back and started pounding the hockey star s head. Leggo of her, you
goddamn ape! he screamed.
It took Dulaq several moments to notice what was happening to him. Then, with a roar, he swung
around and flipped Gabriel off his back. The writer staggered to his knees, got up quickly and launched
himself at Dulaq.
With a surprised look on his face, Dulaq took Gabriel s charge. The writer s head rammed into his
stomach, but produced nothing except a slight Oof which might have come from either one of them.
Gabriel rebounded, looking a bit glassy eyed. He charged at Dulaq again and kicked him in the shins,
hard.
It finally seemed to penetrate Dulaq s head that he was being attacked by someone who had no hockey
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stick in his hands. The athlete s face relaxed into a pleasant grin as he picked Gabriel up off his feet with
one hand and socked him between the eyes so hard that the writer sailed completely off the set while his
shirt remained in Dulaq s left fist.
Pandemonium raged. The only recognizable sound to come out of the roiling crowd on the set was
Westerly, pathetically screaming Cut! Cut!
Montpelier and the technicians in the control booth bolted out the door and down the steps to the floor
of the studio. Gregory Earnest sat in the darkened booth alone, watching the riot develop, and smiled to
himself.
He knew at last how to get rid of Ron Gabriel. And how to cash in on what little money would be made
by The Starcrossed.
12: THE SQUEEZE PLAY
Gregory Earnest s home was a modest ranch house in one of the new developments between Badger
Studio and the busy Toronto International Jetport. Although nearly half the expense to the house had
gone into insulation thermal and acoustic the entire place still rumbled and shivered with the
infrasonic, barely audible vibrations of the big jets screaming by just over the roof.
The living quarters were actually underground, in what was originally the basement level. Earnest had
spent many weekends digging, cementing, enlarging the underground portion of the house, until
now after five years occupancy he had a network of bunkers that would have made Adolf Hitler feel
homesick. His wife made all her neighbors envious with tales of Gregory s single-minded handiness and
devotion to home improvement. While she turned the neighborhood women green and they nagged their
husbands. Earnest dug with the dedication of a prisoner of war, happily alone and free of his wife and
their two milk-spilling, runny-nosed, grammar-school children.
Les Montpelier was a little puzzled when he first rang Earnest s doorbell. It was Sunday, the studio was
still closed for repairs. Ron Gabriel had left the hospital with two black eyes and several painfully cracked
ribs, but no broken bones. Francois Dulaq had a bruised hand and some interesting bite marks on his
upper torso. Rita Yearling was doing television talk shows all weekend, back in the States. Mitch
Westerly had disappeared under a cloud of marijuana smoke.
Montpelier was not in the jauntiest of moods. The Starcrossed was a dead duck, he knew, even
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