In the days that follow I’m alternately called a vandal and a grass roots activist by the local media. The Tanglewood Historical Society invites me to speak at their meeting, which I find ironic enough that I decide to go. Besides, Sutton lives here. We’ve gone out every night the past week—to Thai restaurants and burlesque clubs. There’s no part of the city we don’t want to explore, so I might as well put down some roots.
My speech is short and sweet and encourages change through art. There’s a small reception afterward with tea and bourbon croissants, which makes me think I might come back to another meeting. If nothing else I’d like to show them we aren’t all fist-fights at theatres.
Mrs. Rosemont doesn’t seem to hold it against me. She greets me warmly and thanks me for my work in he
