Chapter 3

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Bat's Mouth - Bat For Lashes

Books. Lots of books. Books were her thing. She liked books, she loved books, she loathed books. They never changed. Once a book was made, that story would stay the same. A welcome comfort that no matter how long she went away for, when she returned the story would have waited for her. The best thing about a book was the way it could be held and cherished. There were so many ways to love a book. She preferred battered books with creased spines and folded corners. She liked to highlight, in pencil, the quotes that meant the most.

In a shop full of books, new books, it was like a child being given all the colours in the world and a canvas.

Occasionally, a title caught her eye and she pulled the volume from its place for inspection. She must have been in a medical section, as all these books were about the human body. The next line of shelves were on medicine and after that eyes and opticians.

As she turned a corner she heard a deep voice that sounded around an open space between shelves. A tall man was stood before a collection of people in foldable chairs. Piles of books were set a-top a small table by his side and he held one copy open in his hand.

"...famous for her unpredictable behaviour and known by the tabloids to be a bit more "loopy" thank her co-stars. This enabled her to avoid most serious questions concerning her past and therefore she used this as a way to escape addressing any past traumas. This form of psychological identity misplacement is common in many celebrities. The consequences of such evasion become more prominent in later life, the effects of which can be life changing, in the case of Bow at least." He suddenly clapped the book shut. "As will be explored in the next chapter. Any questions?"

She quietly found a seat in one of the back rows when a woman near the front raised her hand:

"What sparked your initial interest in the celebrities you observe in the novel rather than more current stars that could be equally as interesting?"

"Well at the risk of sounding like a twenty year old hipster, I must say the answer is: just because commercialised society tells you these people are interesting, doesn't mean that they are." This was met with a polite laugh from the congregation.

As the questions continued the girl managed to piece together that the man had recently published his first non-fiction novel which was all about the mindset of classic starlets: Greta Garbo, Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Katherine Hepburn, Audrey Hepburn, Louise Brooks and Clara Bow.

As the last of the customers collected their signed books and began to leave she worked her way to the front table.

"Which is best: "Hoopla" or "Pandora's Box"?"

The author was taken by surprise at her question but he answered straight away. "Hoopla."

"Little black tutu or black cocktail dress?"

"Cocktail dress-preferably with a cigarette holder."

"Bottle of gin or a glass of champagne?"

"Hmmmmmm...." He laughed at her deep-in-thought face.

"So how did I do?"

"You're wrong."

"What!? On all of them?"

"All of them."

"How did you figure that one out?"

She smirked knowingly as she answered. "Because..."Pandora's Box" is a Louise Brooks film. Louise Brooks wore the little black tutu and she famously drank gin on camera! Forget 42, Louise Brooks is always the answer!"

He leaned back on the table and began a slow applause. "I can't decide if your obsession is creepy or cute."

"Does it matter? Not enough people obsess over her these days."

""These days"! Really you sound like you're 60!!"

"Good! People who are 60 can make all sorts of inappropriate comments and get away with it."

He burst out laughing. A woman in the shop uniform came up to the two of them and told the author he had to start packing up.

The girl started to dawdle out of the shop but just before she left a shop assistant called her over to the front desk. "Mr. Grayson left this for you." She was handed a copy of The Edge Of Public Perception.

"Thank you."

Stood outside the shop, in the light of the neon sign, she read the inside of the cover, where, scrawled across the white was the message:

To the Brooks girl,

Aim for sixty and always be creepy.

J. Grayson

Smiling, she set off into the night.

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