“Tougher now,” she snapped back.
“Yes, well, putting that aside for right now—it’s a tough job because so much of it hinges on things like how you look, your height, and so forth, things you really can’t change”
“Yeah.”
“So I presume that when you go in to read for a part or audition for a director you try to find out everything about the role and try to bring yourself in line with that character. Dress like that character. Or put on extra-high high heels. Maybe even dye your hair. You ever been known to do that?”
“A few times.”
“And sometimes people are inclined to take more permanent measures, aren’t they?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Well, you had breast augmentation when you were nineteen years old, didn’t you?”
“That’s … that’s … none of your business.”
McPhee lifted up a Xeroxed page. “You talk about it in this article you gave to
“Okay, maybe I did say that, but I was twenty, and you say stupid things when you’re twenty.”
“But you did have breast augmentation surgery, yes?”
“Okay, yes!”
“And seven years ago, according to sources, you had a face lift.”
I didn’t like Missy Able and she had overtly threatened me, but McPhee’s pointed questions were flaying her in front of us, and I found myself writhing in sympathy for the woman.
“What if I did?”
“You’re fortunate that you were able to have the financial wherewithal to afford these procedures.”
“I suppose I was.”
“But I’m sure there were many actresses who didn’t have your resources and were unable to afford similar procedures.”
“I guess.”
“Do they have a right to sue you because you had an advantage over them in auditions?”
Missy goggled at him. McPhee turned his back on her and addressed David and me. “I have nothing further.”
“I, however, have a question for you, Mr. McPhee,” David said, stopping the lawyer before he could resume his seat.
“Of course.”
“So your contention is that it is completely fair for the Alfar to use abilities that might surpass those of humans in an effort to win parts?”
“Yes, sir, that is exactly what I am saying.”
“It’s an interesting argument.”
We were in David’s office. The parties to the arbitration had left, and we were indulging in a postmortem. David sat at his desk, buffing his nails, an oddly dandyish behavior and a side of him I hadn’t seen before. I stood at the UV-treated window watching the traffic in the street below. I was listening, but with only half my attention. There was something about the day’s testimony that was teasing at the back of my mind and refusing to come into focus.
I turned my back on the view and faced him. “It’s the old meritocracy versus affirmative action argument.” I said.
“It going to be a constant tension in a society that has any desire to be fair.” He reacted to my expression. “What?”
“That is a very curious attitude for a vampire. You guys are all about the rule of the elites.”
“Maybe Roosevelt affected me more than I knew.”
“Which one?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Both,” was the bland response. Which was a new data point but didn’t really take me any closer to knowing when David had been turned. “Truth is, you have to be careful. Elites can ossify. It’s not that much of a problem among my kind. We don’t hand down power to children.”
“When you turn someone, they’re like your child.”
“True, but we pick them based on merit, not on the luck of the genetic draw.”
“Bringing us back to that whole meritocracy thing,” I said. “The truth is that affirmative action is an imperfect solution to the problem. We can’t make everybody equal. We can make sure there aren’t artificial obstacles placed in the way of people, but genetics are a bitch. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but I love music. Doesn’t mean I should get to sing at the Met.”
“And it’s human, and probably Alfar, nature to try and use every advantage.”
“And launch a thousand industries—hair dye, face cream, diet books.”
“So, where is the line? When does an advantage become an unfair advantage?” David asked. He threw aside the nail buffer and ran a hand across his face, his fingers seeming to linger on the scars. “Everyone screams about drug use in professional sports and seems to think the modern home run stats have been ruined by steroids. ‘The Babe didn’t take no stinkin’ steroids.’ But players in the modern era receive vaccinations, have a better diet, take vitamins. They’re stronger, taller, faster than players back in the day. Does that mean that every modern statistic is suspect?”
“A baseball neep?” I asked. “I’m learning all kinds of things about you today.”
He gave me a quick, closed-lip vampire smile. “Well, I better fix that. Back to our case. The Alfar are more beautiful than humans, and stardom is often based on beauty.”
“Where does it stop? The Alfar could argue that they’re being treated unfairly because until this year no Alfar has ever been nominated for an Academy Award, much less won one.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I looked it up after Campos testified about how the Alfar are such shitty actors. Now, either they’re being discriminated against by the Academy members, or they really are shitty actors.”
“They do tend to star in these action or fantasy pieces. I don’t see them doing the remake of
“You’ve seen a lot of Palendar’s and Jondin’s films?”
“I like to go to the pictures.”
“Okay.” I threw myself down on the sofa and frowned at him. “Look, if it’s just beauty that’s at work, then the human actors don’t really have a case, and that’s how we should rule. But anecdotal evidence suggests that the Alfar can cast a…” I waved my hand in the air. “What should I call it? A … a glamour whammy?”
“No, don’t call it that, but I take your meaning, and those statistics today suggest it’s more than anecdotal,” David said.
“So, beauty is okay, but whammy’s not?”
“McPhee thinks both should be allowed,” David said.
“Because he’s trying to get the studios off the hook so they don’t have to potentially pay settlements to human actors. The human actors want the Alfar banned from using their special abilities. The Alfar are arguing they don’t have any special abilities.”
“And the agents and managers don’t care so long as their clients are landing roles and bringing in money,” David said.
“Which means there’s probably a rift inside their ranks too. The agents with Alfar clients think this is great, and those with human actors in the stable, not so much.” I sank down in a chair.
“We are trying to thread a really tiny needle here.” We both chewed on that for a moment, then I added, “It all comes back to Alfar magic. Is it real? If it is, how does it work. What are their abilities?”
“Let me know what you discover,” David said. He was looking down at the papers on his desk. I had clearly been dismissed.
I was surprised to find Jeff waiting in the lobby. He looked tired and very woebegone. “Hey, what’s up?” I
