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Studio 33
Studio 33

Studio 33

Studio 33

You’re just the sound guy, no big deal. You’ve seen some of her movies, but they’ve never impressed you. Before taping the promotional interview, she’s having trouble attaching the microphone to the neckline of her sequined gown, so you help. Fumbling with the stubborn clip, your fingers brush the bare swell of her left breast.

“I—I’m sorry.”

You think you’re dead meat, but she only smiles.

“Do you enjoy your work?” she asks.

“Um, yeah.” The clip holds. “Say something so we can do a level check.”

She gazes deeply into your eyes. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Stu at the mixer console signals she’s OK, but you’re feeling she’s so much more than that.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lights! Camera!

The interview begins. Her silky voice flows like liquid starlight through the wires to magnetic tape, digitally encoded along with the image of her ivory skin, gold hair, emerald eyes, and the pearliness of her pearls.

The teaser clip rolls. You imagine yourself in formal attire, standing with her on some balcony beneath the cool glow of the moon. There’s a ball going on inside. The extras dance the waltz. It’s a high-budget period film about misplaced love, an Academy Award contender.

You pause to watch her leave the studio while you’re disconnecting your equipment. You know you’ll never parley lines with her or share screen kisses or censored love scenes. Never will you appear together in a single movie frame. Though her celebrity might only be ephemeral, there’s much more than ambition that sets you apart.

Now it’s late in the evening. She’s mingling, laughing, and sipping champagne at some producer’s party on Mulholland Drive. You’re alone in your soundproof booth, watching the needles, adjusting knobs to further sweeten the voice that will air prime time tomorrow night. Soon you’ll find yourself in the crowd at the premiere, jostling for a glimpse of her, with a tingle in your fingers and an ache in your heart, imagining that she was once yours.

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