Maybe the Moon

He had this elaborate theory about what you’d done for the character. Especially in the last scene. He said people were moved then because they realized—on a subconscious level, at least—that something had been in there all along, a living being that conveyed all these complicated emotions. He said you couldn’t do that with a robot, no matter how advanced the technology.”
    I was eating this up. I put down my fork, in fact, and stopped eating my pie—something of a first for me. “And you didn’t record this? You didn’t call me from the nearest gas station?”
    He chuckled. “I was sure you’d heard it a million times.”
    “Not from Philip.”
    Not from anybody, really. Not in those words.
    “Well, he doesn’t hate you,” said Callum. “Anything but.”
    I just sat there shaking my head.
    Not only that, but five minutes later, who should saunter into the commissary but Blenheim himself! I examined him thoroughly before alerting Callum, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. All the familiar elements were there: the shiny bald dome; the ancient letter jacket and corduroy pants; the big, furry, slope-shouldered body. He stood just inside the doorway, surveying the room in a way that was both casual and precise, like some shrewd big-city antiques dealer at a roadside rummage sale.
    “Guess who’s here,” I said.
    Callum jerked his head around, spotted Philip, and immediately began signaling him.
    “Wait!” I said.
    “Why?”
    I couldn’t think why; I was filled with panic.
    “It’s OK,” Callum assured me. “I swear.”
    Philip, I decided, hadn’t seen me when he started toward us, since he did a real doozy of a double take when he reached the table.
    “Cady? Good God—Cady?”
    I hate to think what a goofy look I must have given him.
    “I can’t fucking believe it,” he thundered. “This is so time-warpy! The two of you together again! Jesus, you look terrific.”
    “Thanks,” I said lamely. “You too.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Just”—I glanced over at Callum—“hangin’ with the stars.”
    “Shit, this is wonderful!” Philip regarded me like a benevolent bear, then pulled out a chair and sat on it backward, turning abruptly to Callum. “You don’t mind, do you, kid?”
    Callum smiled and shook his head.
    Philip turned back to me. “He told me he’d seen you. I was so fucking jealous.”
    I was tongue-tied.
    “You’re singing now, huh?”
    “Yeah. Some.”
    “That is so cool. I told you your voice was something special. Didn’t I always tell you that?”
    “Yeah, you did.” I just didn’t happen to remember it, that’s all.
    “You should come out to the beach sometime. Meet Lucy and the kids.”
    I told him I’d like that.
    “Your mother passed away, huh?”
    I nodded.
    “Gee, I’m so sorry.” He ducked his head and let it swing a little, dolefully. “What a fine lady she was.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Really fine.”
    “Mmm.”
    “Well, kids…” He sighed and slapped his hands on his knees and stood up again. “I’ve got a script meeting across the lot. I better get my fat ass in gear.”
    I laughed in a last-minute effort to seem friendly, suddenly annoyed at my own passivity. He was getting away, I realized, this legendary titan of film who had suddenly become my dear old friend again. “What’s the project?” I asked, throwing tact to the winds.
    “Oh, a period thing.” He was already two tables away. “Sort of a musical. Gotta run, tantele . I’ll be in touch, OK? Does Callum have your number?”
    “I’m in the book,” I yelled, as he made his exit, stumbling through a maze of grips eating doughnuts. They gazed up at him in weary, undemonstrative awe, like biblical shepherds beholding one more holy vision in the clouds.
    Callum was tremendously pleased with himself. “You see?” he said. “Does he love you or what?”

    What, I decided.
    Definitely what.
    I knew something was funny before lunch was over, right about the time Callum told me I could keep the limousine for the rest of the afternoon. The driver was booked for the day, he said, so I might as well make use of the limo, since Icon was paying for it and wouldn’t care. Anyway, the scenes of Gut to be shot after lunch would be boring as batshit, so there was no reason to hang around if I had places to go. I’m sure he wasn’t trying to get rid of me, either—just being nice. As unbelievably nice as Philip had been.
    Marc was waiting for me where I’d