'Around here, `tomorrow night' means anywhere from five days to a month. Jesus, does anybody notice I'm seething?' 'None of us have been exactly sedentary, Victor.' 'I think the situation is simple enough: those'-I point -'are specks. Do you need someone to decipher that sentence for you, JD, or are you, y'know, okay with it?' The 'reporter' from Details stands with us. Assignment: follow me around for a week. Headline: THE MAKING OF A CLUB. Girl: pushup bra, scads of eyeliner, a Soviet sailor's cap, plastic flower jewelry, rolledup copy of W tucked under a pale, workedout arm. Uma Thurman if Uma Thurman was five feet two and asleep. Behind her, some guy wearing a Velcro vest over a rugby shirt and a leather windjammer follows us, camcording the scene. There's a magician waiting downstairs.' 'By tomorrow night?' I roar. 'By to-mor-row night, JD?' 'It can be handled by tomorrow, no?' JD looks at Peyton, who nods. 'I'm Moi,' Peyton says, nodding. 'Moi is, um, French.' 'Are you sure these specks aren't supposed to be here?' JD tentatively touches the panel. 'I mean, maybe it's supposed to be, oh, I don't know, in or something?' 'Wait.' I raise a hand. 'You're saying these specks are in?' 'Victor-we've got a long list of things to check, baby.' JD holds up the long list of things to check. 'The specks will be taken care of. Someone will escort the specks out of here. 'Who the fuck is Moi?' I ask. 'I have no fucking idea who this Moi is, baby.' 'Victor, please,' Peyton says. 'I'm sure Damien went over this with you.' 'Damien did, JD. Damien did, Peyton. But just tell me who Moi is, baby,' I exclaim. 'Because I'm, like, shvitzing.' 'Moi is Peyton, Victor,' JD says quietly. A pause. Glares targeted at Peyton and JD. 'Baby, George Nakashima designed this bar area,' JD quietly corrects me. 'Not, um, Yaki Nakamashi, I mean Yuki Nakamorti, I mean-oh shit, Peyton, get me out of this.' 'Yoki Nakamuri was approved for this floor,' Peyton says.

'Baby, George Nakashima designed this bar area,' JD 'Specks-specks all over the third panel, see?-no, that one-the second one up from the floor and I wanted to point this out to someone yesterday but a photo shoot intervened and Yaki Nakamari or whatever the hell the designer's name is-a master craftsman not-mistook me for someone else so I couldn't register the complaint, but, gentlemen-and ladies -there they are: specks, annoying, tiny specks, and they don't look accidental but like they were somehow done by a machine-so I don't want a lot of description, just the story, streamlined, no frills, the lowdown: who, what, where, when and don't leave out why, though I'm getting the distinct impression by the looks on your sorry faces that why won't get answered-now, come on, goddamnit, what's the story?' Nobody around here has to wait long for someone to say something. –Krishna You make a mistake if you see what we do as merely political. Bret Easton Ellis There was no time when you nor I nor these kings did not exist.

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