Déjà Vu
Questions run through my mind all morning. Did Henry Lasko, the failed Trump attacker, know the future? Did he know Claude Belissan? If one, or both of them, went back in time, was it an accident, or on purpose? I’m still mulling this over at lunch, when Sean waves me over to his table. I feel out of place in my flared jeans and pink blouse, an outfit so bland it might have been chosen by corporate committee.
The table’s embroiled in a deadly serious discussion: who is the fakest celebrity?
“Avril Lavigne is so fake. She is not punk rock at all,” Lisa Sharkey says, with a pointed look to me.
“That’s a persona,” Andrew says. “All great entertainers have personas. Even Madonna—”
“Madonna’s the queen of the fakes. She’s goth, then new age, now she’s hip hop—”
“That’s not her, th
