Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

member of our group to have a job. And every time we met at the Mug Shot, Mallory bought his coffee.
    Aw, crap. I'd been an idiot. I'd assumed Alan didn't want to give me his cell number, but now I realized I'd never seen him with a phone. No wonder he got defensive about it.
    I never looked down on Mallory and Tania because their parents paid for everything. Some folks had it better, that was all, and it didn't make them any better or worse than anyone else. But I had a little more respect for Alan than I'd had, realizing he was paying his own way.
    Still, it wasn't the sort of thing a guy could say, especially with Mallory and Tania there. I turned my attention to the photos. Mallory had a good camera, I knew, and a good eye.
    Alan had a better eye. I knew Mallory hadn't taken the shots— or rather, as I looked, I knew which shots Mallory had taken— the same way an art fancier can glance at a painting of sunflowers and name it a Van Gogh or a Michelangelo. Mallory's shots caught the beauty of the abandoned grounds. Alan's did as well, but also the tragedy, the old sorrow, and some of the history. By allowing a burned-out beam or a withering gravestone in just the right spot, he'd caught the ugliness of the site, and brought the beauty out more in contrast.
    "You guys did some great work," I said.
    "Mal has a great camera." Alan tapped another folder. "I made up a shooting calendar based on the group calendar Lukas made. Using Mal's interviews, I've chosen several local folks I want to go deeper with, and I want to go to them. The homey feel will come across better if we're in their homes, and make them more comfortable on camera. Lukas, are you going to want to run the camera for that too?"
    "I'd prefer it, yes." I'd saved years for my camcorder. When I bought it, it was the best available, and it was still top-tier. I let the others use it because we had to share experience. I didn't let them just run off with it.
    "Friday night is Homecoming," Tania pointed out. "What if we got some footage of the life and celebration, to contrast later?"
    "I like the idea," Alan said, "but it's the wrong image. I'd rather have— oh, footage of a wedding, maybe. At the new church."
    "Aunt Lilia might be able to help get that." I made a note to talk to her. "Most people wouldn't mind, I'd think, if we gave them a copy of our footage and made sure to obscure their identities."
    "Yes, yes, shameful thing, marriage." Alan drummed on the table. "What else? Tania, got some results for me?"
    "Hard copy as requested, o tree-killing dictator." Tania handed over a binder, and in the return move tapped roughly on Lance's textbook. "Work, young man."
    "And you call me a despot." Alan stuck his nose in the research.
    "Hey, gang, sorry I'm late." The elusive Matt Brinks pulled up a chair and sat down, his messenger bag still on his neck. "How's it going?"
    "Matt!" Mallory jumped up to give him her ritual kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"
    "More importantly, have you got anything for me?" Alan held out an imperious hand.
    Matt chuckled. "I do!" He put another folder in Alan's hand. "I don't have much time tonight, but my calendar is in there. I'll be around more now things are quieting down."
    "Looking forward to it." Alan grinned. Matt saluted him, gave the rest of us a nod, and moved off. Tania stared after him.
    "Lukas," she said. "Did Alan just get work out of Matt Brinks?"
    "That's what it looked like," I said. "Very impressive. Bet you can't get Darren here, though."
    "I tried to talk to Darren." Alan was going back and forth between Tania's research and whatever Matt had given him. "His girlfriend hissed at me. When her eyes glowed red and her head started spinning, I ran away waving my arms and screaming like a small child."
    Mallory snickered and Lance snorted. Tania leveled a blank stare at her nephew; he ducked back to his work. I passed the photos to Tania, and took up the shooting calendar.
    Alan was planning… rather a lot of shooting. Three of the interviewees he'd listed were friends of Lilia. Lilia was on the list too, along with three strangers. Seven interviews. Some filler shots of local color. Filming at the graveyard. Filming at the museum, and that would be tricky. Glass cases made for unexpected lighting issues, but getting shots of actual artifacts would be worth it— if they'd even let us in. Some forms of light damaged very old items.
    "Fuck!" Lance muttered, thumping his book lightly. Everyone looked at him,