exactly like baby aspirin and he was only drinking it because the bartender had promised him it
was loaded with caffeine and something called taurine； which was guaranteed to keep him
hyperawake all night。
All of a sudden he noticed a violently tall woman wearing a flaming red bouffant wig？ithad to be
a wig？neon pink lipstick； andhuge tortoise…shell sunglasses standing in the middle of the packed
room with her hands cupped around her mouth。 ？Daniel Humphrey？ Calling Daniel Humphrey！？
she shrieked。
It was Rusty Klein。
Dan tilted his head back and downed his drink； blinking his eyes as the caffeine and whatever
else was in his drink rushed to his brain all at once。 He stumbled over to the woman； his heart
thumping even faster than the music。 ？I？m Dan；？ he croaked。
？Lookatyou ！ Our newpoet ！ You？readorable ！Perfect ！？ Rusty Klein pushed her enormous
sunglasses up on top of her head and jangled the enormous gold bracelets covering her long bony
wrists as she grabbed Dan and kissed each of his cheeks。 Her perfume smelled oily and acidic； like
tuna fish。 ？I love you； honey；？ she purred； squeezing Dan tight。
Dan shrank away； unused to being manhandled by someone he？d only just met。 He hadn？t
expected Rusty Klein to be soscary 。 Her eyebrows had been dyed to match her wig and she was
dressed like a sword fighter； in a form…fitting black velvet Better Than Naked puffy…sleeved jacket
and matching black velvet bullfighting pants。 A rope of black pearls clung to her pale； bony
cleavage。
？I？ve been trying to write more poems；？ Dan stammered。 ？You know； for my book？？
？Wonderful！？ Rusty Klein shouted； thrusting her lips at him again and probably smearing bright
pink lipstick all over his face。 ？Let？s make a lunch date sometime next week。？
？Um； I？ve got school all day every day next week； but I get out at three…thirty。？
？School！？Rusty screamed。 ？You？re socute ！ We can do tea then。 Call my office and have Buckley；
my assistant； set it up。 Oh； fuck me！？ She clasped Dan？s arm with a clawlike hand。 Her fingernails
were at least three inches long and painted orangey pink。 ？There？s someone here you
absolutelymust meet。？
Rusty let go of Dan and held out her arms to receive a frail…looking girl with a long； sad face and
dirty blond hair。 The girl was wearing only a see…through light pink slip over her gaunt frame and
her lank； waist…length hair was unbed； as if she？d just gotten out of bed。 ？Mystery Craze； this
is Daniel Humphrey。 Daniel； this is Mystery；？ Rusty purred loudly。 ？Mystery； honey； you
remember that poem I gave you to read？ The one you said 。 。 。 Oh； fuck me。 I？ll letyou tell him
what you said。 Now if you？ll excuse me； I？m going to go lick my favorite designer？s ass so he？ll
give me some new free clothes。 Love you both。 Ciao！？ she added； before striding away in her
five…inch black stilettos。
Mystery blinked her huge； tired gray eyes。 She looked like she？d been up all night cleaning
floors； like Cinderella。 ？Your poem saved my life；？ she confided to Dan in a low； husky voice。 A
tall； narrow glass of something bright red was wedged into her frail hand。 ？It？s Campari；？ she said
when she noticed him looking at it。 ？Want a taste？？
Dan never drank anything that wasn？t caffeinated。 He shook his head no and tucked his black
notebook under his arm。 Then he lit a Camel and took a long drag。 There； that was much better。
Now at least he？d have something to do； even if he couldn？t think of anything to say。 ？So； are you
a poet； too？？ he asked。
Mystery stuck her thumb into her drink and then licked it off。 The corners of her mouth were
stained red with Campari； making her look like a little girl who？d just eaten a cherry Popsicle。 ？I
write poems and short stories。 And I？m working on a novel about cremation and premature death。
Rusty says I？m the next Sylvia Plath；？ she answered。 ？What about you？？
Dan sipped his drink。 He wasn？t sure what she meant by premature death。 Was there ever a right
time to die？ He wondered if he should write a poem about it； but then again； he didn？t want to
steal Mystery？s material。 ？I？m supposed to be the next Keats。？
Mystery dunked her thumb into her drink again and then licked it off。 ？What？s your favorite
verb？？
Dan took another drag off his cigarette and blew smoke into the crowded； noisy room。 He wasn？t
sure if it was the club； or the music； or the caffeine； or the taurine； but he felt so alive andso good
at that very moment； talking about words with this girl named Mystery whose life he had saved。
He was seriously digging it。
？Dying； I guess；？ he answered； finishing his drink and setting the empty glass down on the
floor。 ？The verbto die 。？ He knew it must have sounded like he was trying to impress her。 After all；
she was writing a book about premature death and cremation。 But it was the truth。 Almost all of
his poems really were about dying。 Dying of love； dying of anger； dying of boredom； of anxiety；
falling asleep and never waking up。
Mystery smiled。 ？Me too。？ Her gray eyes and long； thin face were starkly beautiful； but her front
teeth were crooked and yellow； like she？d never been to the dentist in her entire life。 She snagged
another Red Bull cocktail from a waiter？s tray and handed it to Dan。 ？Rusty says poets are the
next movie stars。 One day we？ll both be riding around in limos with our bodyguards。？ She sighed
heavily。 ？As if that will make life any easier。？ She raised her glass and clinked it against his。 ？To
poetry；？ she announced grimly。 Then she grabbed the back of Dan？s head and pulled him toward
her； crushing his lips in a deep； Campari…soaked kiss。
Dan knew he should have thrown Mystery off； protesting that he had a girlfriend； that he was in
love。 He shouldn？t have enjoyed being hit on by a strange； practically naked girl with yellow teeth。
But Mystery？s lips tasted sweet and sour at the same time and he wanted to understand why she
was so sad and so tired。 He wanted todiscover her； the way he sometimes discovered the perfect
metaphor when he was in the middle of writing a poem； and to do that he had to keep kissing her。
？What？s your favorite noun？？ he breathed into her ear when he came up for air。
？Sex；？ she answered； diving for his lips again。
Dan grinned as he kissed her back。
It might have been the taurine； but sometimes it just feels good to be bad。
the girl behind the camera
？So you？re the one。？ A beautiful； tanned； blond dude dressed in baggy orange surf shorts； white
leather Birkenstock clogs； and a brown…and…white pony fur vest with nothing on underneath
smiled at Vanessa with glistening white teeth。 His name was Dork or Duke or something and he
claimed to be a producer。 ？The genius filmmaker。？
？She？s the next Bertolucci；？ Ken Mogul corrected Duke； or whatever his name was。 ？Give me a
year and she？s going to be a household name。？ Ken was dressed like an urban cowboy in a silver
Culture of Humanity down vest over a black Western…style shirt with pearly white snaps instead of
buttons。 His curly red hair was tucked into a black Stetson hat； and he was even wearing black
cowboy boots with his Culture of Humanity boot…cut jeans。 He？d flown into New York that night
from Utah； where his most recent film had just been introduced at the Sundance Film Festival。 It
was an ambitious piece about a deaf and mute man who worked in a cannery in Alaska and lived
in a trailer with thirty…six cats。 The man didn？t talk and spent a lot of time at his puter
e…mailing girls on singles Web sites； so Ken had had to be extremely creative with the camera to
keep the action going。 It was his finest work yet。
？Dude； watching your film was like being born again；？ Dork told Vanessa。 ？It made my day。？
The corners of Vanessa？s mouth turned up in a half…bored； half…amused Mona Lisa smile。 She
wasn？t sure how she felt about being called ？dude；？ but she was glad she？d made Dork？s day。
The Culture of Humanity by Jedediah Angel after…party was an even bigger deal than the fashion
show itself。 Highway 1 had been decorated like a Hindu wedding tent； and bikini…clad models who
hadn？t even been in the show were lounging on leather sofas； drinking saffron martinis。 or
dancing to the live bhangra music。 Vanessa tugged on her tight red top。 It was kind of hard not to
feel like a porker around so many bony； seven…foot…tall models。
？Okay。 Here？s the guy fromEntertainment Weekly ；？ Ken Mogul said； wrapping his arm around
her waist。 ？Smile； it？s a photo op！？
Duke stood on the other side of Vanessa and pressed his tanned； angular cheek against her soft；
pale one。 He smelled like Coppertone。 ？Say salami！？
It was Vanessa？s policynot to smile when she was being forced to have her picture taken； but
why not？ There really wasn？t any danger that she？d get swept up in the glow； marry Duke in the
Temple of Surf and Sand； and live cheesily ever after in a surf shack？cum？film studio on the
beach in Malibu。 She was too hard…core New York for that； and besides； she hated the beach。 No；
tonight would be her one night of cheese and then tomorrow she？d go back to being normal again。
？Salami！？ all three of them cried； flashing their cheesiest smiles for the camera。
Duke stayed close to Vanessa？s side after the photographer left。 ？What hotel are you staying at？？
he asked； assuming she was from LA； just like everyone else he knew。
Vanessa unscrewed the cap on her bottle of Evian and took a swig。 ？Actually； I live here in New
York； in Williamsburg； with my sister。 I？m still in high school。 She plays in a band。？
Dork looked excited。 ？Dude！？ he cried。 ？You？re like one of those people screenwriters make up；
you know？？ He lifted his fingers to make quotations in the air； ？An ？urban hipster。？ Except
you？rereal 。 You？re realer than real。 You？re dyno…mite！？
For a guy called Dork； he was actually pretty insightful。
？Thanks；？ Vanessa said； unsure whether that was the correct response or not。 She？d never had a
conversation with someone so stupid before。 She felt a hand on her elbow and she turned around。
A frail older man wearing a purple velvet smoking jacket and round black glasses smiled up at
her。 ？You？re the film…maker； right？？ he asked。
Vanessa nodded。 ？I guess。？
The old man waggled a bony finger at her。 ？Don？t take your gift too seriously；？ he said before
wandering away。
Duke bent down and spoke urgently into her ear。 ？I？m staying at the Hudson。 Wanna go back to
my room for a drink or something？？
Vanessa knew she should have told him to fuck off； but she？d never been hit on by a gorgeous；
dumb surfer dude who could have hit on any one of the models in the room but had chosen to hit
on her instead。 It was really kind of flattering。 And hadn？t that old guy just told her not to take
things too seriously？ Thank God she？d gone to all the trouble to remove the hair on her
legs。 ？Maybe later；？ she replied； not wanting to shut Dork down pletely。 ？It？s kind of snowy
out right now。？
？Right； duh。？ Duke slapped himself on the head with a goofy laugh。 ？Want to dance instead？？ He
held out his hand； his arm muscles rippling invi