"They'll know it'sme."
"Nothing I can do aboutthat, Des. You've got one of the most famous faces on the planet.I've got the Navigator so you can hide in the back. You just haveto get ten feet from the door to the car."
"My hair's amess."
"That's the least of yourproblems, Des."
Desmona put on thedisguise, stood up, and headed for the door. "Take me home, Nikki.Just take me home."
***
The Vulture, being onlyfive feet four inches tall on a good day, liked lofty perches tosurvey her prey. Her thirty year old body had spent enough daysbeing battered by the rest of the 'razzi, who were mostlyoverweight men. Manners, of course, were non-existent in herparticular field. When she picked up a camera, she wasn't a womananymore, just a sexless shark in a feeding frenzy who often gotstepped on by those twice her size. Shoving angry photogs out ofthe way when you only had one hundred and ten pounds to play withwasn't terribly effective. Position, in her case, was moreimportant than strength when it came to getting the moneyshot.
So The Vulture would takeflight, but this gig needed a truly high perch, and she had calledin a marker to get it.
Well, not exactly amarker. But Roger the phone man knew that if he ever wanted to seeRoxanne Rizzo do the equivalent of a pole dance around his fourposter bed again and whip her raven hair across his face, he'dbetter play ball and do it fast.
His bucket truck wasalready at the location when she screeched to a halt one block fromthe Jackson estate. The rest of the 'razzi were already there ofcourse, lining the driveway like electronic shrubs. She turned downa side street and ditched her car, then ran back up the hill whereRoger was standing next to the truck.
"I can get in serioustrouble for this," he said, wiping a bit of sweat from hisforehead.
She walked up to him,wrapped her arms around him, then pulled back and gave his crotch alittle squeeze. The concern melted from his face as she remindedhim that she could suck a golf ball through a garden hose withoutsmearing her lip gloss. "It'll be worth your while."
"Of that I'm sure." Hereached into the front seat of the truck and pulled out a phonecompany vest and hard hat. "Put these on. You need to at least lookthe part."
"Fine." She dropped hercamera bag, put on the vest, pulled back her hair and was good togo.
Roger put the hard hat onher head, then leaned back in admiration. "It's you."
"Very funny."
She grabbed her bag andhopped in the bucket. "Okay, take me up."
"Hold on to the sides," hesaid. He pointed to the controls inside the bucket. "These are theonly levers you have to worry about. This one releases the bucketso that it always remains vertical while I'm sending you up, andthis one locks it when I get it extended. Got it?"
"It ain't brain surgery,Roger. Let's rock."
Roger moved toward the cabof the truck. As soon as he was out of sight, Roxanne Rizzo morphedinto a bloodthirsty killer. The bucket began to move, and TheVulture took flight.
***
Desmona sat in the backseat as Nicole drove her through the streets of BeverlyHills.
The world's most famousand beloved actress was about to become a prisoner in her ownhome.
"Okay, look alive. Therethey are," said Nicole. Desmona looked out the windshield and sawthem running into the street, an angry electronic mob jockeying forposition. She slid down onto the floor of the Lincoln Navigator andpulled a blanket over her body. She felt the warm carpet of thefloor mats against her face while the smell of pine air freshenerfilled her lungs.
She felt the car slow downand knew Nick was at the entrance to the compound. "Stay down,"said Nicole.
"Way ahead ofyou."
She heard the 'razziyelling her name, screaming questions at the tintedwindows.
"Des, how drunk wereyou?"
"Des, are you still hungover?"
"Des, what was it like injail?"
She felt a few thumpsagainst the car door and knew they were shooting through the glass.She pulled the blanket tighter around her and began toshiver.
She heard the motor of thegate as it swung open and knew she was almost home. She felt a bumpas the car rolled over the curb. The pounding on the car doorsstopped and the voices faded. Her heart downshifted as the car cameto a stop.
"You can come out now, I'mat the back entrance," said Nicole.
Desmona Jackson threw offthe wool blanket and took a breath of fresh air like she had beenholding her breath underwater. Nicole opened the car door. Theywere safe in the back of the compound. The trees that had onceoffered an easy perch to the 'razzi had been cut down.
She climbed out of thecar, felt the world spin, and passed out.
***
"Timmmm…berrrrrrrr!" saidThe Vulture as she saw Desmona Jackson teeter like a bowling pinbefore collapsing into the arms of her agent. She missed the soundof the auto-winder from the days of film, but the digital clicks inquick succession were enough of an aphrodisiac. Her heart wastrying to escape from her chest. She licked her lips as she watchedthe scene through the telephoto lens, frame by frame, as NicoleWine caught Desmona Jackson and dragged her to a nearby woodenlounge chair next to the swimming pool.
The Vulture quickly stolea glance at the other 'razzi. A few had attempted to climb thetrees across the street, but those offered no vantage point of theback part of the estate.
Amateurs.
They were all too busywatching for Desmona Jackson to notice a telephone worker with acamera.
The Vulture smiled at hersuperior brainpower and went back to the business at hand. Shecontinued to fire away grabbing every second of the play as itunfolded. She filled one memory stick and deftly swapped it out ina matter of seconds, like a cop adding more
