Bundle of light heads racked together labeled and named after sultry women.
Brigitte is grabbed by a black-gloved hand.
Cables twined through scaffolding above, a plug inserted, Brigitte lights up.
High-watt orifice casts down a fan of light on a mahogany office desk.
Reflections are swiveled clear from the gimbaled glass panels.
A bleached blonde stand-in sits in, and the light is studied across her face.
How's this? Like this? A voice asks from a ladder, hands mending and bending black-wrap around the burning eye of Brigitte.
Guess all those arts and crafts classes helped you out, somebody yells and laughs.
A woman, maybe an actress, maybe an extra, splashes through pages of People off to the side on a couch.
Someone important watches the setup, shoulders slumped over a bowl of cereal. He cleans some milk away from his manicured beard with his hand, just above the cuff of his clean white shirt, and peels away into the shadows of the stage.
Two cameras are set on two different tracks.
Monitors are on, the chairs aligned.
Looks good somebody else says.
Chapped lips radio in hushed orders.
An actor arrives.