Not One Clue
“I saw a zillion clients, shopped for shoes, and finally perused Laney’s list of cast members, aka potential whack jobs. The sheer numbers were daunting. Who knew it could take that many people to make a cheesy, international hit?It was Monday night. I glanced up from the kitchen table at Laney, who stood beside me, reviewing the same list. “Yikes,” I said.“I know.”“Anybody you have any bad vibes about?”“I’m not feeling great about judging people on a passing whim,” she said.“How do you feel about me getting shot in my sleep?”“Iffy,” she said.“Good to know. Anyone?” I asked again.She skimmed the list, scowling a little, then pointed to a name. “He’s kind of …” She shrugged a shoulder. “Different.”I read the name. Benjamin Vanak. “What kind of different?”“I don’t know. He’s …” She shook her head, thinking. “Aloof maybe.”I raised my brows and looked over my shoulder at her. “Are you saying he’s not smitten?”“Shocking, isn’t it?”“And refreshing.
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