THE PHONE RINGING JERKS ME AWAKE. I’VE FALLEN ASLEEP, deeply and dreamlessly, like a teenager, after yet another whole afternoon of Skypeing with Kolektiv, followed by reading scripts and looking at videos of all of our vlogging candidates. I can’t tell the bald, Slavic-featured actresses apart anymore.
The shooting starts next week, and it couldn’t be soon enough. $isi’s new song, “Black to Grey,” is leaking everywhere, showing up on top spots in charts, in celebrity news, in music blogs, new fan pages set up by her teenage fans and their mothers.
I pick up the phone, and the phone says, “Guy, I’m sorry.”
“Who is this?” I ask, trying to guess the familiar voice but unable to place it.
“The number you gave me was wrong, but I called your agency and told them I was a cleaning lady at th
