- the Sinclairs have a visitor

Early evening, and Veronica descends the stairs of the Sinclair mansion to answer the incessant ringing of the front doorbell. The Sinclairs' staff, Munnalita and Gerard the chef, are in the kitchen enjoying a shot of brandy each in their coffee with some gossip. They deliberately ignore the door and Veronica's screeching.

"God dammit will someone answer the door already! Why do we have so many useless shits still on the payroll! Munnalit-aaa!!" She opens the door and leaning on the frame, makes her displeasure known immediately. "Oh, it's you," she sneers.

A twitchy Marvin Tork is on the doorstep, his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of a tan leather jacket and he seems just as equally displeased to see Veronica.

"Veronica my dear, ever the gracious hostess."

"What do you want?" She drags on her cigarette blowing the smoke in Marvin's face.

"Might I enquire if the man of the house is available?"

"He's in his den." She jerks her head over her shoulder at the double doors leading to Damien Sinclair's inner sanctum. Her arm is still resting across the door.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Consider yourself invited." She moves with a shrug of her shoulders and wanders back up the staircase, yelling out, "just make sure you don't touch anything!" Marvin gives her a hateful glare and then slides over to the double doors, rapping softly.

"Come in," calls a muffled voice from inside.

Damien Sinclair is seated at his expansive mahogany desk chomping on a cigar. The pungent smoke circles above his head in a wispy fog.

"Marvin, what a surprise. Take a seat – cigar?" He offers the box of Cuban browns.

"No, thank you." Marvin involuntarily touches the burn mark on his cheek.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I have a problem. A rather large, troublesome problem."

"Ah – you want me to get Dulcie off your back." Damien utters this as more of a statement than a question. Marvin flinches at the mention of her name. "So how deep are you in?"

"Around thirty G's"

"That's not exactly small change, Marvin."

"Damien, you have no idea of the brutality I was subjected to! Those animals took my pinky!!" Marvin splays his left hand on the table revealing the bloody stump that was once his little finger. "It took me almost a year to grow a decent coke nail. I'm calcium deficient, you know."

"Well, that is regrettable."

"Please Damien! I am begging you, if there is any way you can help me, I would be most appreciative."

"Marvin, you know that no-one gets a free ride."

Marvin runs his hand over his face, he is perspiring profusely now. "Well, perhaps there is something I could do for you?"

Damian laughs and leans back into the cushy leather of his oversized swivel-armchair, "Do I look like a man that wants for anything?"

"Damien, I am prepared to do anything – just name it! Fuck! I would sell my soul just to be free of that evil bitch."

"Well, maybe there is something you can do for me."

"Yes, yes of course. Anything at all."

"I'm having a party soon, and some of my guests need female company. Young, female company.

"Oh - I see."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, no. Not at all," Marvin says with a tight smile.

"Good – now don't you pussy out on me Marvin." Damien waggles a finger at him.

"You have my word." He leans over to shake Damien's hand, sealing the deal, a bond between gentlemen.

Damien doesn't release his grip immediately; but pulls him in closer to eyeball him. "Marvin, I expect no ties and no complications – you understand?"

"Implicitly. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Marvin gets up to go when Damien asks, "How is that film of yours going?"

"I'm having trouble finding the right fit for my leading lady, the material is a little too esoteric for most actresses I'm afraid."

"Don't you mean fucked up?"

"My work is cutting edge!" Marvin blusters, highly offended.

"Relax – I love what you do, really. Well Marvin, this is your lucky day because I might just have someone suitable for you." A movement from the drapes catches Marvin's eye. He gasps and clasps his hands together.

"My dear, I simply adore your work," he fawns.

Lilith LaVey emerges from the shadows of the room like an apparition. She holds out her hand as Marvin bends to press his lips to her fingers.

"I can't wait to hear all about your project, do tell," she says silkily. They walk arm in arm chatting on the way to her parked car outside.

Strange, thought Marvin, that he never registered her presence in the room at all during the entire conversation with Damien. Now he was too busy thinking of ways he could frame her lovely face on celluloid to really care.