Part 2 cont'd (At least I get to use the other header pic I'd made)
Bo hesitated when the phone rang right as she was about to sit and try to collect her bearings amongst all these staring Garbos.
Should she answer it?
She was here to make precisely 5 calls on FM's behalf, not to take any—ah, what the hell.
"H-hello? You've reached the Mashuga, um, line. What's the haps?" she asked, deciding to go ahead and embrace the insanity.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, this is not S&M on the phone so you may wanna dial that back if you want to leave a message fit for a lady's ears..."
Tiffany was growing ever more impatient by the minute. She needed to be doing!
She made a show of staring at her...nonexistent watch. Now how could Bradley have let her leave without that? She had reminded him to remind her when she
pulled the one with the matching pearl band from her special occasions box. Well, anyhow, so she didn't know exactly what the time was, she knew that she had
been kept waiting. Even were it 15 minutes only that was 15 minutes too long; time is money! Surely, these conspicuous consumption Mashugas understood that.
"You look to need Bloody Mary, bubelah. I will fix."
"No! Thank you, no."
Well...but she declined that as well. Tiffany was not here to enjoy herself.
"I can't tell you how to run your show but tardiness is not something that I tolerate from my girls. Or my boys, either!
I make it clear to them all at the outset that no unprofessional antics will be tolerated when they're on my dime."
"Aha, but you tell anyway. So, so. Poshy Pits does not make allowances for creative temperament, I see. Zis is much pity. What is it you call antics?"
Tiffany didn't know quite how to answer that. It did not feel as if she were talking to a fellow successful businesswoman at all.
The 'creative temperament' was all well and good...in its place, but, honestly, it was called show business for good reason and this Mrs. Mash-uga was
being deliberately obtuse because she thought she was talking to a rube! She noticed those side swipes—they were couched in gibberish, but she noticed!
Tiffany spoke calmly, however. She informed her that preparedness was one of the 3 Ps of professionalism.
"And need I say that showing up is the first step in demonstrating that one is prepared to do the work. And only the first step!"
"Right so. But see, you see, she shows!"
And she went to greet her as though there were no problem at all!
So very unprofessional.
"PussyCat, pussyCat, where have you been?"
"Aw, I'm sorry, S."
"Have you been to London?"
"Not as yet." Cat giggled. "And I didn't take as long as all that. But, ya know, I'd like to—"
"Ah, right so! Right so, right now!" Sylvia Marie waved to Remington.
S&M was so funny.
"I would like to see it someday."
"Zis can be arranged, I think, zhes."
"Oh, zhes. See. London comes to you! Come, come, London meet Cat meet London."
"Mom? What are you doing? I think the lamp's plenty clean."
"You never can tell, Johnny" she said and gave it a good flick like she was checking if the lamp were properly tuned.
Tsk, tsk. Flat.
"How are you getting on?"
"Fine, Mom, but I don't think you should be over here."
"Don't be silly, I was hired for my keen eye and a little expert oversight would not come amiss around here."
Ri-ight. Cuz the Mashugas were only famous for making movies and stuff that people loved and gave 'em awards for and millions and millions of simoleons, but Mom knew how to sew!
Johnny didn't mean to diss his mom's skills, and he would never say that out loud, because she did a lot more than sew now; she did have a really good eye for style. That's why
she was inching her way toward the big leagues with this contract. But the Mashugas, they were already there. Didn't that deserve respect? More than she was showing?
Sylvia Marie was as well known amongst their peers for her strokes of inspiration as her Frankl.
This tableau was a spur of the moment notion but she heartily approved. In terms of hungry pure animal spirits, behold!, the meeting of the sexy beasts! Do not let appearances deceive.
For herself, London's society was regrettably off-limits, all the way off-limits.
The rules hardly ever made sense—why should they? They were only rules...But more binding because not bound to mind them.
Der Frankfurter got an idea that he didn't like it and so he didn't like it. The End. No more to show.
In actual fact, crossing the line would only bring Frankie's wrath down on Remington, not Sylvia Marie. She was his wife. She could do as she pleased.
Yet, for as much as she did like having lucky London around, and respected her Frankl, of course, she only toed the line but never dipped one across.
The meeting of the young and sexy beasts, however, presented exciting new possibilities to her agile imagination. Here was her favourite new pet pussyCat,
with pussyCat's paws...and also pussyCat's claws... Lucky London would not slip so easily from this emissary, for who could resist petting pussyCat?
Bo made sure to plop their comp cards front and centre for Sylvia Marie to see, before she got too caught up and forgot. She hadn't updated hers in a while but, front and back, these...2, 3, 4 shots
were still the best of Bo. Yes'm, and not FM, would be the real decider and she might just chuck her and Flo both in the trash bin but here's hoping something in the Chique mystique catches her attention!
Regardless, Bo was in her element sitting in at the big boss's desk. As soon as she got one call made two more came in and she was learning quite a bit about what it was like to be Sylvia Marie.
Time for refill!
"London's bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down..." Sylvia Marie warbled to herself as she thought more about her pussyCat trap for the little elusive mouse blinded by her beautiful newness.
Shiny new coat of silky-softest fur to wrap up in, it was no-brainer for blind mice with no wife to wave carving knife. Triumph for animal magnetism. Best than better if she, too, could be seeing such sight in her life.
Because off-limits he may be but not for vicarious thrilling.
"London's bridge will soon fall down...no fair waiting."
"Yeah, that's Cat."
"You know what. Enh, never mind, forget you. Ay!" He yelled to get her to turn around. "Ay, you need help with somethin'?"
"Who, me? Oh, no thanks, y'all," she said, flashing her smile on Remington before she turned back, "something...just fell to...bottom of my bag..."
"Yup. I mean, they ain't super big but they do got a nice bouncy-bounce-bounce."
Rem popped him one in the chest and told him to bounce himself on outta there.
"Ay, it's a compliment. All's I'm sayin' is ain't got much on them Baywatch babes...but what's there is cherce, yo."
"I said get outta here. Go. " 'Cherce'...Dumbass.
Rem didn't think she heard but, hell, he'd been running damage control all day anyway...
"I think I could use your help, actually. You mind?"
Tiffany continued to wander around and inspect the progress, eventually making her way over to The Camera.
Those Mashugas were not around just now...
And while they weren't, well, what was the harm of her just getting a feel for what it was like being in the director's seat?
Valentine finally emerged. He figured it was about time. Clock said it was about that time so he was heading off to get into character.
"Valentino, Valentino, how pretty you look!"
"Ha-ha, right back atcha, Sylvia Marie; you're lookin' pretty as a picture."
"So do I try, my Valentino," Syl admitted, puffing her favourite prop briefly back to life, the better to strike a classic pose. "I do so try."
"And nobody does it better," Val said, stretching out a friendly hand toward her, which she swatted away.
"No, no, no. What is this? 'Shake.' Like good puppy, you teach him. But you are not good puppy, we know, Valentino. That is why so much ladies love to love Valentino."
"Come, come, give me kisses. *Mwah. Mwah. Mwah*," she audibly pecked either cheek in alternation.
Val fully believed that she was the looniest of loons in a town full of 'em—back home, that is. But nobody did do it better. That he meant. Whatever this it was,
she owned it. He didn't know either of 'em well, they only ever met in passing, but there was something irresistibly charming in her commitment to her craziness.
"Hmm? Zhes, zhes, here." She put the glass into his hand. "I will make new."
But Val handed it back. "Nah, nah. Better not."
"Vod-ka," she enunciated in an attempt to entice him. "And I have the heavy hands. Ev-e-ry-zing is better vit' vodka."
"Right around here, this is where your first mark is gonna be," Rem was explaining, "Actually..."
"...hey, Lew, reach back and toss me some gaff tape. No, that's duct tape," he said, flinging it back at him, "the gaff tape's thicker. But not so sticky," he explained, more to Cat, "Now me and FM
generally prefer a T mark so you, uh, I mean, do you know how to stand? Thanks, Lew," he said, catching the roll and taping down her first position. "Okay, so you'll be standing here, like this,
keeping your body angled that-a-way, and then, y'know, you'll do your thing and whatever but make sure you're heading this way next," Rem told her as he walked Cat through her blocking. *
*Grr!* This Fucking Woman!!!
"Hey!" Frankie grabbed and tilted her back in the chair. "Nobody touches my camera."
He dropped her back even farther to hover over her face, eye-to-eye so she knew he meant business.
"And nobody, nobody sits in My Chair."
"I...I didn't...I..." Tiffany panted.
"So move your keister."
Frankie propped her back upright and jiggled the chair once it was back on four legs so Ms. Priss knew not to dally. Out! Out-out-out!
Gordo sniggered as he came up on them. Boy, he loved workin' for FM. 'Show 'em who's boss, Boss.'
"...so, so curtain pulls open two minutes too soon and dere he is 'vits no pants!"
Val cracked up. Whoo boy, been there. Not exactly there, on a stage or nothin' but oh yeah...Heh-heh-heh.
"His pantalones all at ankles, and boxers, too—Front row must probably have very good view," she said, "But emcee supposed to be funny, right so? Second row and on think it clever good joke,
he make it good joke, and me, I stay trapped behind podium, tucked in like little ball so nobody sees—legs, arms, and head—seems like eternities! Good 'zing I am so limber like circus acrobat back then."
Val was still chuckling along. "So nobody saw? Good for you."
"I have lucky stars. And it was private event and not televised so no tape, I thank them over and over. Nobodies cannot go back and eye-spy an elbow, or more. My Frankl might not think so funny if it
was too public joke, but you don't know how he laughed at me when he made curtain come down early to clear stage and let me leave." Val looked at her funny so she explained: "It was before we marry."
Valentine cracked up even harder when it finally dawned on him that the guy she was tellin' him about, that she'd left hangin' out there with no pants, wasn't her husband!
He wasn't normally nosy but, hell, she painted this picture so Val wanted to know who it was.
Sylvia Marie rattled off the famous name like it was nothing—just a giant of late-night comedy, right so?—he asks, she tells, there was no shame in her game.
"And der moral of story, Valentino: Everything goes down better vit' vodka!"
That Hot Pink came and rounded up all the guys but Gordo kept his eye out on the busybody ol' broad.
The way she slinked off and snatched up her purse and finally sat her ass down quiet-like, shocked as shit. It was hilarious, yo.
"Heads up, Gordo. Pay attention."
"Mr. Mashuga has decided on a closed set for Mr. Hart's shoot. Lots of people are liable to be coming and going around here at any given time, as you guys know—So forget
who you recognise. Anyone who doesn't have one of these," Flo said, holding up an acess badge, "is not allowed. Period. FM's orders. Okay? Okay, here you go."
"Anything else?" Rem asked.
"No, that's it," she said, "Thanks for your attention."
Flo eased over to give Johnny a little reassuring shoulder-squeeze before he headed off with them. He looked so adorable as an official crew member but,
even more, he was really holding his own with those guys. She was just feelin' all types o' proud of her l'il buddy, and c'mon, better her than his mom, right.
Val did not know what the hell he had let himself in for with those two Mashugas at the helm.
Tiffany was definitely feeling a bit chastened after their last face-off.
She was sure she had won the first round, when they arrived, but he had bested her on that last one.
And she didn't know if she could make an ally of that wife...
"Right so, Frankfurter. Cool as celery sticks."
Yeah, great, Syl. He wasn't actually talkin' to her.
Tiff was sititn' dumbstruck longer than he'd thought for—Frankie meant to give her a good jolt, not scare her shitless.
But, hey, long as she stayed out of his hair for a while...(and kept her keister the hell outta his chair!)
"Your husband is a—he startled me half out of my wits!"
"Oh zhes? Did you enjoy it?"
"I don't know what on earth you're talking about. But I'll have you know that I am immune to silly innuendo." Tiffany huffed and looked away from the woman, but she couldn't help adding, "I am a happily married woman."
"As am I, too. Verily happy," she said and Tiff scrunched up her nose and gaped at her again, "Happily very. My Frankfurter gives me great startlings at least 3 times a week."
"Well, I never! I never heard anything so vulgar in the whole of my life."
"Is so?" Sylvia Marie raised an eyebrow and Tiffany thoroughly resented the silent slander on her age! "Shtick around, kid," she said, in an entirely new accent. "Ah, PussyCat..."
"...have you done with marking your territory?"
"Guess so. In a manner of speakin'."
"Hey, hey, hey, look at you." Frankie did a double take and came over. He flipped one of her pigtails, asking, "What's with the Pollyanna routine?"
"Aha, I get it. Ha, ha! Well, whatever it takes to reel 'im in, kitten. I'm all for it. Even got your heart bobbles in your hair, eh." He laughed again. "Gotta say, that is one of the ugliest hats
I've ever seen—It's perfect. Dontcha think, Syl? Big picture-wise. Take a look," he said, taking Cat's tiny waist in either hand and flippin' her 'round to face Sylvia Marie. He playfully thumped the
back of her ugly hat. "I swear, I do declare, Miss Cat. Ha, ha, ha! Miss Cat in the Hat...You're such a ham," he said, mostly for her ears only. "What did I tell you, we told you she was a pro, Tiff."
For her part, Tiffany was not listiening to him at all. She sat silently appalled by how free he was with his hands on the girl, touching and tossing her about. If the girl were one of her girls she
would not stand for this, but his ridiculous wife didn't seem to have a problem with it. Nor, for that matter did the girl herself, or Tiffany would have spoken up. Yes, she certainly would have.
"But seriously, we're rolling in 30."
"In 30, Cat," he re-emphasised since she didn't seem able to tell fucking time. "So get hoppin'."
Bo gave Frankie thumbs up as he passed by and he nodded her way but that only made Tiffany suspicious.
"What was that about?" she demanded.
"Oh, nothing. FM asked me to track down a coupla people. No biggie. And while I was in there I spoke with the office about the Pretty and Pink lineup—"
"That's, well, that's fine, but I've changed my mind about...recruiting someone totally new."
"I figured you would. So I told them to keep Mona Lott and the other Debbie on hold and that you'd let them know later."
"Good. That is very good initiative, Lilly. Now, since it seems that everyone is in a hurry all of a sudden..." Tiffany pointed in the direction that Cat headed, toward the yellow room, "they want her ready in 30 minutes."
"30? Uh, okay, totally doable."
"Zhes, zhes, 'vhat is it you 'vant, Lewis?"
"Is it still—Because we've got hammering—The board—"
"Do not worry for me. I have remedy, see. Go fix, it is okay. Fix, fix! Fix he woody things. My head will hold."
"He is sweet boy," Sylvia Marie said. But not altogether...all together, but this she would not say to Pissy Posh. (Like she was one to talk!)
The out of synch banging of a couple of hammers started up without so much as waiting for Lew to deliver permission and Bo headed off.
She hated to miss out on a show like Yes'm but she had to go help Old Lady Hat Cat effect a total about-face transformation in a matter of minutes.
But rather than going directly to get changed Cat had made an extra little stop-off to, uh, check her face.
She didn't look this way for nothin', honey!
Wrong shoot but, whatever y'all, she'd made one helluva cowgirl! And it was fun, too. That's what gave her the idea...
...Cat was full of ideas...
Sylvia Marie drained the last drop of Bloody Mary, the Second, or Third...Who keeps track, eh?
"Come take bite, Frankl. We need more fresh green things in our diet," she said gripping one end of the celery between her teeth and wagging it at him. "You especially."
"Oh yeah, me especially?" he said, giving her one loud slap on the ass. "That's fresh enough for me, baby."
Tiffany jumped to attention. She could actually hear him crunching on her celery stick and smacking his lips
between bites and kisses as they mauled each other. Right there! In front of everybody!...He was such a filthy beast.
Not like her Brad at all. Brad was a strong take-charge type, as good with his hands as with his mind, and he did it with style—well, okay,
perhaps not style exactly—he was unaccountably fond of flannel these days—but with oodles and oodles more class than that act!
The back had already fallen off one of the other shelves so easy does it. It was a quick fix and all but they were nearing the finish line. This was the last one that needed to go up.
"Hey Mom, take a look. Set looks pretty good now, dontcha think?"
"It is definitely improved. You did a wonderful job, Johnny."
"Well, I helped anyway. Still gotta grab a coupla knickknacks and stuff that FM wants on the shelves. Back in a flash!" Johnny shouted out before darting off again.
Flo twisted out of his way. "He's so excited, it's great. It looks like we're still more or less on schedule. I'll catch up
with Bo and Miss Sutter in a sec, just got a few things to square with FM and—um, you're not wearing your pass?"
"I will not wear that thing and I am going to stay right here and do exactly what I came to do—"
"Yep. Gotcha." Flo cut her boss off mid-sentence and walked away, which was a very Bo thing to do but she had no choice. No time for tirades.
"Heya Dollface. Y'know, I really appreciate the way you've stepped up today."
"Not a problem."
"Maybe not, but I won't forget it. So what's up?"
"Okay, so—oh, but first, it's okay if Ms. Burb doesn't wear this badge thing, right?"
"Who, Tiff? No, no, that's fine. Me and Tiff have come to an understanding."
"Um, good. Okay. So Mr. Hart doesn't want anyone in his dressing room but getting him in makeup won't take but a minute anyway so that's fine. My sister is assisting Miss Sutter right now with wardrobe and..."
Cat leaned in for one last close check, brushed her bangs to the side, made sure all was clean and clear. Nose. Eyes. Mouth.
Yeppers, fresh as a daisy.
Soft and sweet...All innocence.
Oh yeah, she could do that.
While Cat was perfecting her pose, she heard shuffling feet on the other side of the door.
"Um, pardon me, Mr...M-Mr. Valentine?"
"Yes? Oh. Hello, there darlin'."
"Anything I can help you with? You lookin' for FM?"
"Um, no, I was, well, I was lookin' for you—I only, I wanted to meet you, Mr. Valentine. First. You know, before all the lights, camera, action...Ya know?"
"We-hell, now." Val hadn't even considered that this springy li'l slip of a thing was for him, that is, was his, uh, co-star. "What's your name, darlin'?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm a l'il nervous, it's Cat. I'm Cat Sutter."
"Nervous? Ain't no cause to be nervous, sweetheart. This isn't your first time, is it?" he said, leaning in and giving her a friendly wink over the top of his shades.
She giggled and shook her head no.
"Well then, you're all right. I'm the amateur here today."
"Oh, no! You, you're Valentine Hart!"
Hmm. Well, he was gonna try to be, but he was most definitely outta uniform.
"Just do me a favour and go easy on me out there, wontcha. Be gentle."
Cat's giggle danced around and down the marble corridor.
Ugh. Bo took a chance and headed up the other stairs and looky here.
Lilly-Bo Chique had lost her sheep and didn't know where that freakin' girl went—But she found her! Oh, she found her!
"Hey!" Bo snapped. "What are you doing? Do you know what time it is?"
Yet again this Cat person was lurking around where she had no business!
No way she was lost, not her. She knew her way around this joint better than Bo, that's for sure. So she had to have come up this way on purpose to pounce on Mr. Hart.
Personally, Lilly-Bo didn't give two shits if he bought her act or not but they could save all that flirty stuff for in front of the camera.
"I said hey! Hello-o-o? Hair. Makeup. Now."
"You. Yes. Now."
"No, not you, Mr. Hart. Her."
"Yes, ma'am," she echoed Valentine, with an added twang.
"Guess I best 'ta 'git. Gotta get all perty to be worthy of standin' up alongside o' you."
"Now I don't know about that. You're already gonna put me to shame out there. You get any prettier and they might as well go ahead and cut me out."
"Aww! You do say the nicest things, Mr. Valentine..."
Fucking phony-baloney fake damsel in distress American sweetheart pigtails an' perky tits locked-n-loaded Annie Oakley h'okey-poke-me casting couch sellout star-fucker wannabe bitch.
*The scene was always about him showing Cat her marks but while there were a ridiculous lot of little things that I quit the game to make cc and/or poses for, that wasn't one of them. Let's just imagine them down there, shall we?
And, for anyone who knows enough about some of these specialist subjects to know that I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, um...it's a sims story, I apologise for Nothing!! LOL. But seriously, I hope any glaring non sequiturs weren't too distracting.
Bonus Note: I removed this bit from wherever it was so I may as well plop it here, there'll be no room for it later: With Sylvia Marie, what some peoples did not comprende—dese poor philistines—was that her accent (or accents, changeable as they were), it was performance art, dahling. Pastiche. It came from no'vhere in particular, from everywhere, from anywhere...(But, as you see, she never turns it off, not even with Frankie; yet that doesn't mean that an entirely new schtick won't metamorphose someday.)
I'm still arranging the pics for the next part but, as of now, I don't anticipate needing to fight my game to re-shoot any. So stay tuned for Part 3, wherein is contained quite possibly the funniest scene I've ever simmed. Well, I think so. Your mileage may very well vary...but Stay Tuned anyway! :-D