22 Lady Marmalade

“Ross! Ross!” shouted the Los Angeles film colony’s latest eight figure leading lady.
Ross Valley truly did not know if this was a surge of affection or if his houseguest, in the liberating and inspiring throes of copulation, was thinking of some property for sale just over the hill. He preferred Kentfield – he thought it was sunnier, and relatively free of bicyclists – but if he were forced to move, neighborhoods in Ross would suit him well. Either way, he thought her head was in the right place.
“Hmm,” he thought. “Ah!” he shouted back, involuntarily. He liked her. And if she ended up living in Marin, in Ross, she could pick up those coffee beans he liked at the Cafe Marmalade. Of course, were he to visit her, he could pick up the Italian roast Graffeo she liked so much at The Woodlands Market, just down the hill. “No Graffeo Coffee in Malibu Colony?” he wondered. And repeated “Ah!” out loud.
Neither realized Ross hadn’t turned off his cell phone.


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