Posted: 11/10/2013
“Cut. All right, people, let’s run it again.”
The illusion of our time together was ruptured by a sudden swarm of bodies crowding onto the set, buzzing around one another with practised urgency. I watched in astonishment at how in just minutes they had pulled you off the ground, given you a new shirt, a new suit jacket, reapplied your makeup and tussled your short, dark brown hair just right, just like it was before Dwayne – Mickey – first pulled you from the cramped trunk of the car. They wiped the blood from your cheek, your lips, your Norman Rockwell chin. They straightened you out, gave you some water, made you look all new again. In the rush to reset the stage for the next take, you were, however briefly, the most important person in their world – their bend-over-
