#city of La Paz

[manessha545]

North Yungas Road, Bolivia: The Yungas Road, popularly known as The Death Road, is a 64-kilometre long cycle route linking the city of La Paz with the Yungas region of Bolivia. It was conceived in the 1930s by the Bolivian government to connect the capital city of La Paz with the Amazon Rainforest in the north part of the country. Large parts of it were built by Paraguayan prisoners during the Chaco War. Several sections of the road are less than 3 metres wide, and due to presence of rain, fog, landslides, cascades, steep slopes and cliffs that drop more than 610 meters or 2000 feet, it is largely considered the most dangerous road in the world. Wikipedia

[somethingyello2]

Los calles de La paz

Good to be back in South America, photos from the city of La Paz, Bolivia. (April, 2025)

[silentlyinfamous]

©️2025 E’s Photography. All Rights Reserved.

[lionheartlr]

Discover Bolivia: Your Ultimate Travel Guide

A Glimpse into Bolivia’s Rich History Bolivia, a landlocked country in South America, boasts a diverse and rich history. It was originally inhabited by ancient civilizations, including the Tiwanaku and the Inca Empire. Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 16th century, leading to centuries of colonial rule. Bolivia gained independence in 1825 but has since experienced a turbulent political…

[kropotkindersurprise]

April 1, 1971 - From red. media:

On this day in 1971, German communist Monika Ertl assassinated Roberto Quintanilla, the Bolivian officer responsible for Che Guevara’s execution. Surprisingly, Ertl was the daughter of a Nazi propagandist who had fled to Bolivia. She was raised surrounded by her family's Nazi friends, such as Gestapo chief Klaus Barbie, aka the "Butcher of Lyon", who British director Kevin Macdonald alleges orchestrated Guevara's murder. Monika cut ties with her fascist family and grew closer to the Communist cause. She was deeply moved by Che Guevara's assassination in 1967 which led to her joining the National Liberation Army of Bolivia (ELN), which Che headed prior to his death. Under her new nom de guerre, “Imilla”, she worked with Che's former comrades to hunt down his killer. In 1971, Monika arrived in the German city of Hamburg, where she looked for Pereira, who was working at the Bolivian Consulate. Monika gunned down Che's killer with three shots to the chest. As she escaped, she left behind her purse, a wig, a revolver, and a piece of paper with the words "Victory or Death - ELN". The killing was soon linked to her and the US-backed Bolivian dictatorship put a $20,000 bounty on her head. However, Monika successfully returned to Bolivia with more targets on her mind, including her family's Nazi friends. In 1973, after several days of surveillance, CIA trained special units ambushed and murdered Monika in the capital city of La Paz. Her body was never found. Monika was dubbed “the avenger of Che”, a name that made headlines around the world.

[niveditaabaidya]

Which Is The Wolrd's Highest Capital City? #shorts #youtubeshorts #yout...

[star-anise]

What made me happy today: Learning about Mi Teleférico, the public transit gondola system that services the mountainous metropolitan region of La Paz, Bolivia.

It's the kind of solution uniquely fitted to its circumstances:

A city of less than a million people with immense differences in elevation

A predominantly poor and Indigenous labour force relegated to physically inaccessible neighborhoods, who mostly found employment in more affluent central neighborhoods

A brief economic boom in prosperity

Democratic socialist governments very aware they could be voted out in the next election, who prioritized a policy that could be implemented before the other side got a chance to cancel it

A technological solution that could do the job brilliantly.

[freezerbunny-sims2]

City planners, avert your eyes so you don't get angry at this *vibes-based* road layout for the new Buenos Vientos. It doesn't strictly follow the logic of real life roads. Ignore the placement of the lots, that will change.

Looking at the third picture, the areas are arranged as follows: downtown (top left), suburbs (top right), and rich people area (bottom left). There will be further divisions within those areas, but that's all I have defined so far.

Next I'll list some of my inspirations in more detail, in case you like that kind of stuff.

The canal and rich people area are inspired by Puerto Madero, a neighborhood built on an artificial island on the coast of the city of Buenos Aires.

A six-lane avenue divides downtown in two. This is inspired by Av. General Paz, which irl defines the limit between the city of Buenos Aires and the province of Buenos Aires. Its location in this ts2 map doesn't make much logical sense, but idc. I added redbud and birch trees, on top of one another, to pretend like they are flowering palos borrachos. They have gorgeous purplish-pink flowers irl.

The access to the suburb area is inspired by Acceso Sudeste, a road that branches off Autopista La Plata-Buenos Aires (a highway that connects those two cities). Acceso Sudeste is used to enter a part of Zona Sur, the south area of the conurbano (which is the large area that surrounds the capital city).

There's many more details, but I'll talk about them as I build the subhood.

[dailyoverview]

Quito, capital city of Ecuador, is home to nearly 2.9 million residents. Located at an elevation of 9,350 feet (2,850 m) above sea level, it is the second highest official capital city in the world (behind La Paz, Bolivia). The city is divided into 32 urban parishes, or cabildos, and this Overview features the wavy street grid of the Chimbacalle parish.

-0.245193°, -78.515604°

Source imagery: Airbus Space

[manessha545]

Plaza Murillo, La Paz, Bolivia: The Plaza Murillo is the central plaza of the city of La Paz and the open space most connected to the political life of Bolivia. Prominent buildings on the plaza include the Presidential Palace, National Congress of Bolivia, and the Cathedral of La Paz. Wikipedia

[solosoyferchu]

Las calles bajan el volumen, los semáforos siguen actuando para nadie. La ciudad duerme, pero yo la escucho respirar. Hay paz en lo que queda de pie cuando el resto se rinde.

Fer, de la city.

[rjzimmerman]

Why you should become a volunteer urban biodiversity scientist. (Washington Post)

Tens of thousands of species coexist with humans in the concrete jungles that live up to their name. These plants and animals are just out of sight — unless, that is, you try to look for them.

A few weekends ago, I joined 83,000 participants from around the globe to find this urban flora and fauna and share it with the world. The City Nature Challenge, or “bioblitz,” is an annual competition documenting nonhuman urbanites. Armed with no more than a smartphone and free time, nature lovers in nearly 700 cities uploaded more than 2.4 million wildlife photos to the platform iNaturalist.

These citizen scientists provide an invaluable glimpse into unlikely urban ecosystems, often in places scientists can’t venture into, such as backyards and private grounds.

“Urban areas are not like blank spaces on the map in terms of conservation value,” says Alison Young of the California Academy of Sciences, who co-founded the City Nature Challenge in 2016. “You just find things that you weren’t expecting, and things that are really important for people to know about.”

The bioblitz is the world’s largest biodiversity survey, according to iNaturalist, helping scientists craft conservation plans that recognize nature is everywhere. As the world rapidly becomes more urbanized, cities and backyards are becoming essential for saving biodiversity.

Cities are not “biological deserts,” as some have portrayed them. They act as bridges between natural reserves — even reservoirs for some wild populations — no matter how developed they might seem.

This year, volunteers sent in photos of more than 65,000 species, according to City Nature Challenge. La Paz, Bolivia, (population: 2 million humans) and Hong Kong (one of the densest cities in the world with a population of 7.3 million), each submitted around 5,000 observed species.

[pannaginip]

ABS-CBN: Here's how you can help Mang Nanie's library

Hernando "Mang Nanie" Guanlao, who founded a community library in Makati now running for 23 years, is accepting volunteers to help manage thousands of books at his house.

While the 72-year-old Guanlao has delegated the task of arranging the books to his children, more volunteers are welcome.

His collection houses thousands of titles and has no catalog system. It is free to get or borrow books — with no limit— at Guanlao's public library located at 1454 Balagtas Street in Barangay La Paz, Makati City.

Visitors can also bring more books in exchange to ensure the library does not run out of titles.

Guanlao accepts food donations, especially since he also runs a feeding program for children.

You may contact Guanlao on his Facebook page or at 09752788623.

2024 Jan. 15

[leighrobertsreads]

El precio de la paz (FFF 308 - The Price of Peace)

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Fandom: Encanto Pairing: Bruno/Mirabel (felonious incest in most of the US… can legally marry in Colombia) Word count: 291

Also available on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66266989

Inspired by @heartniche’s “City of Angels” series, an Encanto Bruno & Mirabel, then Bruno/Mirabel, mistaken identity AU set in modern Los Angeles and Bogotá:

Bruno had not set foot in a church in over three decades until the fateful Lenten Sunday that saw all of the Madrigal family secrets explode, and saw no good reason to bother with it again after that.

… until his mother grasped his and Mirabel’s hands from her hospital bed while recovering from that surgery that he still didn’t fully understand, and instead of excoriating them once more for their sins with each other and against the family, implored them to get married. Despite decades of faithful telenovela viewership, he’d forgotten something kind of important about Colombia: their relationship would be merely scandalous, not felonious. Mamá had apparently decided that a Church-sanctioned avunculate marriage would be less damaging for both la Familia Madrigal’s fortunes and possibly their souls than trying to sweep it all under the rug, as she would have before.

So there Bruno was, attending Mass every Sunday with Mirabel at the parish church nearest to “her” temporary apartment - at least until the Bishop of Pereira, who happened to be the brother-in-law of a Familia Madrigal board member, granted that dispensation. Despite having as little interest in what that priest in charge of their pre-marital catechesis had to say during the weekly service as he did when he was a fidgety child and sullen teenager, Bruno bore it with a far more cheerful attitude. Mirabel’s hand squeezed his any time his lack of attention turned to dozing off, which was far more pleasant than getting his ear pinched.

With that, plus the spackling and painting of a few rooms at the diocesan orphanage, the price of peace with his mother and the rest of the family was turning out to be far lower than Bruno could have ever imagined.

[b-afterhours]

Enter The Chronoheart

SYNOPSIS: Au!Bill | Timing is everything. Just before his big break, Bill met Paz, and with her in his life, everything seemed to fall into place. The timing felt right, until the weight of fame and notoriety became too much for Paz to handle, even from the sidelines. Despite their busy careers and distance, they always seemed to find each other through it all. Just when they decided to rekindle their relationship, and the timing felt right again. Paz disappears without a trace.

The aftermath of her disappearance sends Bill’s path spiraling off course. Then, on the third anniversary of her disappearance, he found himself drawn to the mystic shop where she was last seen. Sending him on an unexpected journey through time to find her.

WARNINGS: 18+ Mature readers only

Chapter Four

They were dating now. Or rather, they had been for a few months—long distance, but thanks to modern technology, the miles between them didn’t feel so vast. At least not all the time.

They were FaceTiming while she did her makeup for work, her phone propped up on the desk beside her magnifying mirror.

“I saw that you ended up going to that banquet thing for work last night,” Bill remarked, watching her apply mascara to her long lashes.

Being on the opposite coast, the sun wasn’t even up for him yet, but he had grown used to waking at 5am just to talk to her before she left for work. He had to admit, he also found the makeup process intriguing.

He had landed the part he had auditioned for in LA. Paz was elated for him when she heard the news and he thanked for her encouragement. 

Soon, he would be leaving for Toronto for his next acting job, where his face would be completely pancaked in clown white and prosthetic pieces. Obviously, Paz applied her makeup much more tastefully in comparison, but still—what better person to have in his corner than someone who went through the process daily?

“You saw?” She paused, turning her attention to him on her phone screen. He was in bed, wrapped up to his head in a goose-down blanket, looking like a sweet little baby.

“On your Instagram,” he smirked. 

“I didn’t know that... I’ve searched for you on there but—” 

Because they massaged and spoke on the phone directly, the topic of social media hadn’t really come up. She did search for him though and only encountered a few fan pages, all of them sharing pictures from his supernatural Netflix show. And Bill didn’t seem like the type to have a presence online that way to begin with. 

“It’s private.” 

Paz pursed her lips, eyeing him suspiciously. “For everyone? Or just me?”

Bill chuckled. “Everyone. But your brother follows me. I don’t really use it, honestly.” 

He lurked, though. Bill had found her Instagram while he was still staying at Franco’s. It hadn’t been difficult. He simply clicked on Franco’s profile, panchovillanueva, and scrolled through his following. Sure enough, her account was right there, her user her actual name, pazvvillanueva. Her profile picture would have given it away too, it was of her with her cheek resting on her fist and a sweet smile on her face. Unlike his username, which was just an amalgamation of random letters with a profile picture of a random close up of a painting he liked.

Her account was public, with a little over 2,000 followers, so when he followed her, he blended right in. The posts almost looked curated—she shared experiences, places, events, her friends, expertly plated food, and even promoted her brother’s projects. One of those posts being captioned:

Blink and you’ll miss me! 

Intrigued, he watched the lofi rap music video Franco directed and spotted her in the background as a late night diner patron in a few shots. 

That’s also how he learned she had studied abroad in Dublin for a semester and later taken a graduation trip to Mexico City before she ever had the chance to tell him herself.

She didn’t post often. There were weeks between uploads.

As he scrolled further, he found a photo near the bottom, her in a maroon cap and gown, surrounded by family at her college graduation. And discovered she resembled her mother and her sister in a way she did not with Franco. There were noticeable gaps in time between the oldest posts, almost like she had deleted things. Other than that, her profile was clean, the kind an employer would be proud of. 

Especially, because she shared peeks of her work days as well. Sending PR packages, attending book signings, and behind the scenes shots of morning talk show studio’s when she joined the author’s promoting their work. 

“I don’t really use it, either,” she said.

“Well, you finally did last night after two months,” Bill muttered, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Stalker!” she playfully accused. “No, like, I don’t really use that one. I have a finsta.”

“What is it?”

“What’s yours?”

He smirked. “Tell me yours, it’ll be easier to find me that way.”

Paz had promised to text him her user handle when they got off the phone. But now, as she took her commute on the subway scrolling through her finsta profile, hesitation crept in. The urge to clean it up was strong. Looking at it now, she felt a little embarrassed. Mostly about her lewds. Risqué poses, semi-nude shots she’d shared because, in those moments, she had felt pretty and confident.

She wasn’t sure why she felt self-conscious now. She had already sent Bill photos where she was much more exposed, but those had been curated with the male gaze in mind. You didn’t have to feel pretty when the focus was on your breasts. The lighting could be bad, but even the mere shadow of a nipple was enough to get a man going.

These photos, though, were different. More raw, more vulnerable. More naked, even when they revealed much less.

She let out a long sigh.

Fuck it.

Bill heard his phone buzz from where he’d left it on the hotel bed as he pulled a shirt over his head.

one000xgoodnite

The moment he read the notification, he found her profile. Her bio was blank but he chuckled to himself as the profile picture was of the Cynthia doll from Rugrats. Shaking his head, amused, he sent a follow request.

Paz got the alert almost instantly. Her thumb hovered over the button to accept. Instead, she went back to her profile, deleting a few posts. Mostly irrational complaints she’d posted while PMSing. Then, satisfied, she accepted his request and sent one back. Which he accepted, immediately.

Both of them were now scrolling through each other’s profiles.

Paz noticed he hadn’t posted in close to a year. His feed was a mix of scattered memories—photos from his travels, horizons taken from plane windows, throwbacks of him with his friends. More recent ones showed friends passed out on living room floors with aluminum beer cans stacked on their foreheads, after a night of binge drinking. There was one of him in a shiny synthetic wig, eyes unfocused, clearly drunk. There were several photos taken in the same location—red buildings in the foreground, each shot artistic in capturing a sweaty pint of beer from a slightly different angle during different times of the year. 

He posted meals too—ones he made, and others that his dad had cooked. Big dogs trudging through shallow shore waters. Stills from films he admired. Book titles he was reading, something they both posted in common. Near the bottom, she noticed traces of an old girlfriend. A picture of his well-worn boots beside a pair of designer heels. A photo taken of him laughing with mauve pink lipstick staining his mouth. A shot of long, blonde, sea waved hair fanned across his bare chest as they laid on a beach lounger together. 

She quickly scrolled back up then, it felt odd looking at that and she didn’t like the feeling it gave her. She didn’t feel she was much of a jealous person but she recognized that was the pit she felt forming but chose to ignore. 

His most recent post was a shot of him on a set, a paint palette in hand, a mural sprawling in the background.

When Bill opened her profile, his knees weakened causing him to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

Between the blurry club photos, mishaps on electric scooters, selfies in graffiti-covered dive bar mirrors, and memes were thirst traps. But not the posed, carefully angled kind meant for validation. These felt more personal.

His heart quickened as he scrolled, mesmerized. The shadow of her naked body stretched across a bedroom wall at sunset. Another showed her bare back facing a mirror, turned just slightly to capture herself on her knees, lace panties the only thing she wore. A close-up in the shower, suds tracing her clavicle, her full lips suggestively parted. The arch of her back reflected in a window. A white bed sheet pulled taut over her torso, revealing the soft dips and curves of her body, and the peaks of her hardened nipples. It took his breath away. 

Bill grinned when he finally acknowledged one of her most recent posts after being distracted by everything else. He double tapped, liking it, and commented a string of red hearts and kissy face emojis. It was black-and-white photo of his hand on her thigh, taken in the back of an Uber on their way home after visiting the MoMA. It made him miss her more than he already did.

Out of curiosity, he checked her followers. Eight, including him now. He only recognized two accounts. He wondered about the rest but figured they were people she trusted.

Maxilicious992

CoraBoundsArt

Max’s profile was private, but his bio read: someone you can take home to your daddie.

Cora’s, on the other hand, was public. Her posts were mostly dedicated to promoting her independent gallery showings. Still, Paz appeared in two posts near the top. One of her attending a sculpture exhibit Cora hosted, the other of them together at a rooftop bar, celebrating Paz’s birthday last October.

He went back to Paz’s profile, intending to screenshot a few lewds he liked for safekeeping. As he did so, his thumb slipped, and he accidentally liked one from 71 weeks ago.

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

He stared at the screen for a beat, then shrugged.

Paz stared at her screen, her cheeks burning as the notifications flooded in one after another.

one000xgoodnite: bill liked your photo.one000xgoodnite: bill liked your photo.one000xgoodnite: bill liked your photo.

She pressed her lips together, hardly containing a grin. It wasn’t just one or two lewds. He had liked them all. And a few selfies.

Bill, meanwhile, was still staring at her profile, running a hand over his face as if that would slow his racing thoughts. The photos were intimate. Not just because of what she was or wasn’t wearing, but because they weren’t meant for just anyone. They were for her, for self-expression, for feeling beautiful. And now, he had been granted access to see her in the precious way she saw herself.

As Paz exited the subway, her phone vibrated in her hand just as she emerged onto the bustling New York City streets. A squeal threatened to escape her as she read his text straight from her lock screen.

Paz!

You are so fucking beautiful!!!

…

Franco was the only one they deliberately kept in the dark, but Paz had inadvertently kept her friend's somewhat in the dark as well. She liked having something that was just between her and Bill. Still, it was painfully obvious to them what was going on. Her phone was a dead giveaway—she checked every buzz, her face lighting up when it was him, frowning when it was just some useless notification from an app she hadn’t used in months.

One day after returning from lunch with Max, they walked into the office to find a bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. Max caught the way her eyes lit up, the soft flush that crept into her cheeks.

She reached out, fingers brushing over the petals of a white daisy nestled among a dozen full-bloomed red roses. Then, delicately, she plucked the small note tucked in the middle.

Thinking of you — B.

“Well, isn’t he a romantic?” Max leaned in, taking a deep whiff of the floral scent. 

Paz’s voice was light but a little guarded. "Mm. Yeah. It’s sweet of him." She carefully moved the bouquet to a better spot on her desk, but to Max, it looked like she just didn’t want anyone else to enjoy it that wasn’t herself.

He gave her a pointed look. "Paz, sweetie… when is he coming back this way? Is… is it getting serious?" He asked carefully.

Paz sighed. “He’s filming in Toronto right now.” 

“Okay? So after that?” 

She hesitated. “Yeah, he’ll probably make his way back here. I guess…” 

“Probably? You guess? It’s been like what? Two something months since you two were together…” 

Paz frowned. It was nearing three. “I know, Maxi.” 

Max raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright," he said, but his voice carried doubt. "I’m just looking out for you. Long distance is no joke… you can only do so much over the phone, you know?"

“You think he’ll get bored?” She asked, looking visibly worried.

Max sighed. "I’m just saying, as a guy—" He stopped when he saw her chewing nervously on her lip. "Well… maybe not. He doesn’t give me asshole vibes like that. It’s still fresh between you two. I wouldn’t worry too much."

"Well, shit, Maxi, you got me worried!"

"Fuck what I said!" He threw his hands up. "The jealous bitch came out of me a little!"

Paz groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Max, you can’t just say something like that!!”

Max dramatically clutched his chest. “I know, I know. Forget it. But seriously, babe, he seems really into you!”

…

Paz did her best to push Max’s words out of her head. He was right. Bill didn’t give off asshole vibes, and she hadn’t felt anything but wanted by him. She missed him, and he expressed as much too. But now that he was working, their conversations had lessened. His days were long, but he never forgot to send her a good morning text, and they’d talk late at night when he could. Though sometimes he’d fall asleep, his snoring cutting her off.

He was staying in an Airbnb in Toronto, but after the first week, his Canadian friend Landon came to keep him company, followed by another friend, Kris. Between work and their arrival, his attention was getting pulled thin. Even they noticed how often he checked his phone while they were just trying to chill with a few beers. 

He could feel their irritated stares every time he glanced at the screen. He understood though. He hated when people were glued to their phones, instead of engaging with the world around them. Yet, here he was, doing the exact same thing.

One night, they were sitting around a propane fire pit on the back deck, passing a lit joint between them. Bill was in the middle of texting Paz. She was out with friends, so her replies were sporadic. He slipped his phone into his back pocket, knowing it’d be a while before she’d respond.

“Finally,” Kris snarkily muttered, resting the joint in an ashtray. He was only in Toronto making a pit stop before his next destination, Florida. “You’ve been ogling your phone since I got here. Who have you been talking to?”

Bill slouched further into his seat. “Paz.”

“Fuckin’ knew it. I knew it was a girl,” he shook his head. “Paz? Where did you meet her?” 

Landon chuckled into his canned IPA. Bill flicked his eyes over to him, unimpressed.

“You know her?” Kris asked.

“Eh,” Landon shrugged. “Met her briefly. She’s nice—pretty.”

“Oh,” Kris nodded. “Okay, so?” He turned back to Bill, waiting for an explanation.

“I met her through Franco.” Bill said. 

“Villanueva?” Kris guessed and Bill replied with a nod. “Sick. His work is tough! Did you meet her at one of his parties then?” 

“Uhh, well, no. I stayed with him when I was in New York and she—”

“It’s Franco’s little sister that he’s dating.” Landon interrupted, jumping ahead of the reveal to get it over with. 

Kris’ brows shot up. “Ooooooh! Paz!” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “How the fuck did you get around Franco to start dating her?”

“He doesn’t know,” Landon answered before Bill could.

“Yeah,” Bill muttered, scratching his brow. “He doesn’t know.”

Kris leaned back, smacking his lips. “You know about Franco’s old DP? How he made a pass at her, and they almost fought? I mean, dude said some rude shit. I’d be pissed too if it was my little sister. After that, they stopped working together.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bill said dismissively, clearly becoming irritated. “I know the story.”

“I mean, it worked out for the better anyway since he dropped him and started working with Loch, but... Damn, Bill.” Kris scratched his head, probably adding more stress to what his friend was already feeling.

“Look, I’m dating his sister. That’s all that matters to me. It’s between us, not him.”

“Okay, true,” Kris conceded, picking up the joint again and reintroducing it into rotation. “I just don’t get caught up, man. That’s all.” He took a hit before handing it off to Bill. “And I hear she’s pretty?”

“She is,” Bill grinned, pridefully. “Gorgeous!”

“Well, come on,” Kris nudged Bill’s knee with his fist. “Show me a picture! Damn.”

“Alright,” Bill unlocked his phone, with the joint resting between his lips. “But first, let me show you this picture she took the other day. Two squirrels and a rat eating an entire pizza by a dumpster.” 

His phone buzzed, Paz finally replied. “Hold on,” he passed the joint off to Landon. “Let me text her back real quick.” 

He laughed when his friends both rolled their eyes and let out an exaggerated groan.

… 

Paz was putting away her folded laundry when her phone rang on her nightstand one evening. She shoved her clothes into the drawer indelicately and quickly grabbed her phone. Bill was facetiming her. It was surprising. He was usually on set at this hour.

She accepted the call, and there he was, out of costume but still donning the clown makeup. Her eyes widened, and she let out a nervous laugh. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a smile.

“Oh god…” she laughed, instinctively pulling the phone back a little.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he teased.

Paz laughed again, shaking her head. “This is so weird!”

“You’ve seen the press photos, haven’t you? I even sent you mirror selfies.”

“Yeah… but that’s different. I hear you, but I cannot see you through that!”

Bill chuckled. “It’s all about to come off. You look like you hardly want to look at me...”

“It’s strange,” she said amused. “Jarring.”

“Fair,” he chuckled. 

“Cool though,” she said, looking closer at her phone to see better. “It’s cute but then it’s not. It’s done really well though, now that I see it in motion.” 

“It’s pretty killer. Uh, do you want to watch while they take it off? I can set my phone up so you can see that it’s actually me under this?” He gestured to his face, that was not his face.  

A voice off-screen interrupted. “Hey! I bet you’re more than ready? Oh—sorry, are you on the phone?”

Bill’s bulbous clown head turned toward the voice. “I am, yeah. Just talking to—my girlfriend.”

Paz’s heart skipped a beat. Bill’s did too. They hadn’t talked about titles, but when the word left his lips, it felt right. Calling her just a friend felt almost offensive to say at this point.

A walkie-talkie crackled in the background, and the off-screen voice groaned. “Give me a sec’, Bill. Then we can get you out of all of that.”

Bill turned back to Paz, who was looking at him expectantly.

“Girlfriend?”

“Uh…” He nervously scratched at the wide-cut collar of his white t-shirt but they slipped to the base of his throat, accidentally getting white face paint under his nails. “Is that okay? Can I call you that?”

She hesitated, a contemplative look across her face, making his stomach tighten.

“I’d like to call you that.” He said earnestly.

“No… because I have a boyfriend, and he looks nothing like that.”

Bill laughed his nerves away. “I doubt he’s as handsome as this,” he said, circling his clown face with a finger. Suddenly, he felt silly, even slightly embarrassed. Being an actor led you to weird places sometimes but he didn’t plan to ask for her exclusivity this way. It wasn’t great timing but it just kind of happened.

“Oh, much more handsome—a sweet Swede, even.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “He should be careful… I’ll eat him.”

That evening, they stayed on FaceTime until he arrived at his place. Paz had fun watching the slow unraveling of the clown as each piece came off, revealing the man underneath. It wasn’t until he propped his phone up in the tiny shower of his trailer, where he washed off smears of white and red paint off his face, that she finally saw him as himself again.

Her sweet Swedish boyfriend.

His housemates were gone—Kris was catching the rays on a South Florida beach, and Landon was out doing his own thing for the evening. Though Bill usually liked company, he welcomed the solitude. Most importantly, he wanted privacy with Paz.

“That was a lot,” Paz giggled, still basking in the aftershocks of her orgasm.

She watched as he wiped his stomach clean of his built up release. Bill exhaled loudly, feeling the weight of work stress lift off him. It had been a little over a week since their last session over the phone, and a week of abstaining from masturbation in general. Experimenting, he used the pent-up sexual frustration to convert into raw, maniacal, rage to get into character.

“I’d clean you up with my mouth if I were there,” Paz purred.

“Fuck.” He tossed the used shirt aside. “You’re gonna make me hard again, baby.” His voice softened. “I miss you. I’m tired of the phone.”

“Tired of me?” 

“No.” He firmly said when he saw visible worry etching her face. “No, I couldn’t ever get tired of you. I just want you here with me.” 

Paz sighed. “Just a week or so left, right?”

He nodded. “Maybe…” His voice trailed off, a thought creeping in. “Yeah, a week. Another fucking week.”

“It’ll pass,” she assured him. “Just enjoy the rest of your shoot.”

Bill smiled, but the moment was cut short when he noticed his phone’s battery was at two percent. “Shit. I need to charge this.”

“You should probably eat, too,” Paz reminded him.

He intended to reheat leftovers when he got home, but that plan had gone out the window the second he walked through the door. Instead, he’d gone straight to his room, asking her to get wet for him.

“Yeah, I’ll eat. I’d rather eat you though,” he said, making her laugh. 

…

The following morning, Paz sat through an early work meeting, blinking her tired eyes and barely suppressing her boredom as her boss and manager discussed a new client the publishing company was bringing aboard.

Biiiiiitch this could have been an email!!!

Paz read from her phone, which rested between her crossed legs under the conference table. Max, sitting across from her, had texted her. She looked up with a smirk and raised her eyebrows in agreement.

The meeting dragged on when suddenly her phone vibrated multiple times in quick succession. Without looking, she dismissed the call. She didn’t have to look to know who was calling.

In a meeting xx

She quickly sent a text to Bill. 

I just need you email

*your

Paz pursed her lips curiously, but she sent it anyway.

Check your inbox when your done and call me.

*you’re lol

Once she managed to slip away from the brief chat with the project manager, she met Max at the office coffee bar. With their hot drinks in hand they returned to their desks—hers facing north, his facing south, arranged diagonally from each other.

“We can split a gummy and watch the Housewives finale at mine?” Max suggested as he settled into his chair.

“Yes! I’ll bring some rosé, then,” she said, already thinking about how that would make for a fine time.

She took a sip of her coffee, set it down, and pulled her phone from her soft pink blazer pocket. She tapped her mail app, and right below a promotional for a Levi’s denim sale, she spotted Bill’s email, opening it.

“What the f—?!” she choked out before clamping a hand over her mouth.

Max leaned far back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Uhm… I’m taking 15,” she said abruptly, shooting to her feet.

Reaching the building's lobby, she pressed her phone to her ear and marched outside. Bill picked up after the first ring.

“Bill? Did you mean to send me a plane ticket to Toronto?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, weaving through set to get to his trailer and prep for the day. “Is your passport up to date? I hope so.”

Paz scoffed lightly. “It is, but I can’t just take off work on short notice...”

“No… I thought so. Just say it’s an emergency.” 

Paz closed her eyes for a moment, her hand holding the top of her head, torn between the rush of excitement and the weight of responsibility. She could hear Max’s voice in her head, already egging her on—girl, just go.

Her eyes opened, staring off at the congested street, chewing on her lip. Her job was one thing, but what would she tell Franco? She’d be gone for a week. On the other end, Bill waited nervously. Maybe he should have talked to her before making the impulsive purchase.

“Let me call you back,” she said abruptly, her mind racing as she tried to sort through her thoughts.

“Wait—”

“I’m coming,” she cut in, already deciding. “Sorry, I just need to handle things here first. But I’ll see you soon.” A small smile played on her lips.

Bill pumped his fist. “That’s my girl.”

…

When Paz landed in Toronto the following day, Landon was there to pick her up. He was running the errand for Bill since he was on set. He greeted her warmly and helped her with her luggage, placing it in the trunk of the SUV.

“It’s good to see you again,” Paz said, buckling her seatbelt. “And thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem,” Landon said, pulling away from the curb. “It’s good to see you, too. Bill wishes he could have picked you up, but you know—he’s busy traumatizing children or whatever.”

Paz chuckled lightly. “And that’s just right now. When the movie comes out, there’ll be a million more.”

“Shit, yeah,” Landon laughed. “Have you been to Toronto before?”

Paz shook her head. “First time,” she said looking out the passenger window. “Actually, I haven’t been to Canada at all until now.”

They chatted a bit more during the short ride, with Landon speaking about Toronto before he started telling her about his hometown and the province.

Landon left her luggage by Bill’s bedroom door after showing her around the cabin inspired house and left her be after offering to take her to the grocery store should she want to pick up anything to have in the house later. She thanked him and shut the door behind her. 

She kicked off her shoes and fell onto the hastily made bed. She sighed loudly, relaxing a bit, taking in the scent of Bill coming off the bedding. It was probably a bit gross but to her it felt cozy. It was the closest, physically, she had been to him in months. 

Cuddling a pillow, she curled around it, accidentally dozing off. When she woke up an hour later, she stretched, taking in the room. An attempt was made to tidy but it was still a little messy. A few articles of clothing scattered about, empty water bottles on the nightstand, and the desk was in disarray.

Around his MacBook, there were excerpts of the script with notes jotted on them, two journals, a heavily tabbed copy of IT, stray receipts, and a random litter of Canadian coins.

Without thinking, she started tidying up. Bill wouldn’t be home until much later, so she decided to clean up a bit to pass some time. She left his work alone, only collecting the change to place it in a neat pile and lined his pens up lessening the clutter. 

“Fuck’s sake,” she muttered when she picked up a gray shirt from the floor to toss into the laundry. It was the same one she’d seen him use to clean himself off the evening before. Though she found it appetizing then, in its crusty state she did not. However, possessed, she sniffed it. 

After starting the wash, she threw out the empty water bottles and stray bits of trash into the larger kitchen bin. Glancing over the contents of the fridge before heading to the grocery store, she didn’t have high hopes, but she was pleasantly surprised to find the boys had been feeding themselves decently at least.

“Can I ask?” Landon began, carrying her bags of groceries into the house when they returned from the store. “Uh, what did you tell your job to get out on such short notice? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Paz smirked. “Dead uncle.”

“Nice. Dead grandma’s overplayed,” he said, setting the bags down on the kitchen island. “And, please stop me if I’m prying, but where does your brother think you’re at?”

She leaned against the counter, noticing the slight concern on Landon’s face for his friend. She knew how her brother could be but he was a pretty laid back guy for the most part. Still, there was something about him. Being heavily tattooed probably made him seem more intimidating than he actually was. To her, he was just her big brother. He wasn’t scary, just protective over her and Juliana.

“He thinks I’m staying with my friend Max. We have a big project at work, you know,” she rolled her eyes, relaying the lie briefly. “Frankie’s usually pretty busy himself, so he doesn’t meddle much. He doesn’t have a reason to.”

“Right,” Landon nodded. “I’m not trying to be annoying about it. Sorry, if I am.”

“You’re not being annoying,” she reassured him. “You’re a good friend—seeing as you’re willing to be an accomplice.” 

Landon chuckled at that as he scratched his beard. Though, she couldn’t tell if it was a nervous one or not. 

Afterward, Paz made a move to settle in after chatting with her sister on the phone. She opened her luggage, looking for a change of clothes as evening approached. She laid the clothes down on the bed that she remade, and then headed into the adjoining bathroom with her toiletry bag and phone in hand.

After shaving all the body hair she had rid herself of the night before, she rinsed the soap out of her hair, humming lightly to the music playing from her phone sitting on the sink. Bill had come home, the tune beckoning him toward his bedroom. He had a dimpled smile plastered on his face, knowing he would finally be in Paz’s presence again. It filled his heart up and then it skipped when he saw her through the cracked open bathroom door. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Of course he wanted her, he wanted to be inside her desperately. It was one of the reasons behind his impulsive decision to purchase the plane ticket. But he felt he should hold off. He’d heard of guys who flew women out just for sex—he even knew some who did—and the last thing he wanted was to be lumped in with them. Even if this was different, that it was his girlfriend just in the other room.

But he wanted to see her. He couldn’t stand the distance the most and now she was just a mere few feet away. 

Paz stood beneath the hot stream of water, rinsing the conditioner from the ends of her hair. She gasped when she felt a hand glide across her waist, her body tensing for half a second before she looked up over her shoulder and smiled brightly.

Their lips met, the kiss deepening as she twisted to face him, arms winding tightly around his body. Under the cascade of water, his hands slicked her dark, wet hair back before cupping her face in his big hands. The closeness, the warmth—it made him blush.

Paz had never showered with a man before. It was a kind of intimacy she’d never felt comfortable sharing—until now. With Bill, it felt completely natural. 

“You’re just the way I remembered,” he said, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as he admired her.

After kissing the middle of her forehead, his lips brushed down the slope of her nose, lingering briefly before pressing a soft kiss to the beauty mark below her eye. The tenderness of it made her blush.

They lost themselves in each other, making out for what felt like forever, hardly pausing for breath of steamy air. Paz could feel his ever-hardening length pressing against her and impossible to ignore. She let her fingers graze him, but before she could wrap her hand around him, he caught her wrist and hooked it around his neck instead.

Before their lips finally parted, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him to the point she had to rise onto her tiptoes. Enjoying the way her slick, wet body felt against his own. Paz kissed below his clavicle, her lips grazing across his chest before playfully flicking her tongue at his hairy nipple. She reached for him again, but once more, he stopped her, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

“Ignore it,” he murmured, kissing the pulse point on her wrist.

“It’s hard to,” she admitted, licking her lips, her eyes dark with desire.

He chuckled low and knowing. “Can I touch you? I just want to focus on you.”

They took things to the bedroom. Bill took his time, kissing every part of her. It was gentle and loving and it was making Paz’s heart beat erratically. She had never had someone take such delicate, considerate care in the same way he caressed her and took her in like a work of art. 

Nestled between her thighs, he peppered kisses down the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer, savoring her. Paz watched as he traced her slit with a long finger, replacing it with his pouty lips pressing firmly against the ones between her thighs. He wasn’t just touching her pussy, he was marveling at it. Adoring it. 

On some of their explicit late-night calls, he had noticed how often she mentioned thinking about his mouth on her. It intrigued him, enough to ask about it, and when he learned why she enjoyed it so much, he wished he had done it more. Especially after gaining the prideful knowledge that he was the only person to ever make her climax from it. 

Her breath hitched when he used his fingers to part her lips, exposing even more of her. He licked every fold, tasting her, as he hummed against her in sinful delight.

It didn’t take long for her to start squirming. She turned her face into a pillow, stifling a moan as if she were still under Franco's roof.

Bill abruptly pulled away, crawling up her body to hover above her. With one swift motion, he tugged the pillow from under her face and tossed it to the floor. She blinked up at him, panting, eyes filled with surprise.

“We’re alone, baby,” he informed her. “I want to hear you. Let me hear how sweet you can sound.” 

Paz pulled him in for a grateful kiss, excited that there was nothing holding them back here. He broke away, trailing kisses down her body and resumed his position. His fingertips circled her slick entrance before he pushed his two fingers into her as she arched into it. 

His mouth, his long fingers, and his tongue worked in tandem for a long time. It was almost unrelenting, almost too much. Almost. She couldn’t get enough as each climax he drew out of her rolled deliciously through her body as her breathy unrestricted moans egged him on. 

…

That night, he made her dinner, some good comforting and filling pasta. As the red sauce simmered, he poured her a glass of white wine.

“Sorry about the room,” he said. “I cleaned the bathroom but I took a break by laying in bed and I fell asleep.” He explained, feeling a little bad she had cleaned up after him. “But thank you.” 

“It wasn’t that bad… for a boy’s room.” She winked. 

Paz had been sitting at the breakfast bar, watching him move around the kitchen, shirtless and at ease. There was something undeniably romantic about it, being doted on like this.

Just as he handed her the glass, he suddenly pulled it away, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Kiss me, and you can have it,” he bargained.

More than happy to play along, she pressed a deep, hard kiss against his lips. When she finally pulled away, he hummed in approval and handed off the glass.

Paz took a sip, then set it down, her gaze catching on something just below his ribs. She reached out, fingers lightly tracing over the dark bruise there.

“What happened?” She asked, concerned.

He glanced down as if just discovering it himself right then, and rubbed at the sore spot absentmindedly. “Harness,” he explained. “The ropes digging in.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt. Just annoying.”

Paz noticed how tired he looked then. In fact, he often did even while video calling. What he described of his days on set sounded physically demanding even some days uncomfortable. He never seemed to complain much about it though, he loved every part of his job. Though he yawned on the phone after a long day, he sacrificed rest to spend time with her. She appreciated it. Even if it was just to listen to her speak about her regular desk job, he always asked questions intrigued about her day to day even though she felt it was hardly as exciting as his. 

“Do you want to go out after this?” He asked, returning to the stove to cut the burner off. “There’s this nice jazz bar not to far from here—” 

“Tomorrow,” she interrupted smoothly, a soft smile playing on her lips. “We have the whole weekend.”

Bill nodded, smiling, looking forward to it. 

~*~*~

1966

Marcia insisted on taking a chauffeur to Vita, preferring the discretion of a more inconspicuous car for their outing to Beverly Hills. He held the door open for her, and watched as she sat down gently, then swung her legs in, her knees never parting. She was constantly delicate and mindful of how she moved. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, darling,” she murmured, extending a hand toward Bill as he settled in beside her.

He hesitated for a beat, glancing at her hand before finally taking it. “Mhmm.”

When they arrived, a commotion outside the restaurant caught his attention. Marcia frowned, then quickly instructed the chauffeur to circle around the back. Through the window, Bill took a closer look—paparazzi, their old-timey cameras flashing, mixed with younger fans clutching magazines and notepads. Paparazzi and celeb’ hunters. It was all the same no matter the era. 

Marcia’s gaze flicked to the rear windshield, assessing their route. A handful of sharp-eyed teens had already figured out where the real exclusive entrance was.

With a sigh, she retrieved a pair of cat-eye sunglasses from her clutch and slid them on. “Here they come.”

“Huh?” Bill followed her line of sight, watching as more people turned the corner, eyes suspiciously narrowed at their car.

“Out and in, in and out, like you always say,” she said with a determined nod.

The chauffeur moved swiftly, opening their door. The moment Marcia stepped out, the screams erupted but she didn’t linger. She slipped through the back entrance in one smooth motion, leaving Bill, who remained watching the flash bulbs sparking.  

“Darling?” Marcia’s voice beckoned.

Bill stepped out, rising to his full height, and for a moment, the crowd fell into a stunned silence. The screams of young women had petered out, their excited chatter momentarily replaced by wide-eyed shock.

Then, a single high-pitched shriek split the air.

The spell broke. A mob of young girls surged toward him, their excitement turning into a full-blown rush. His eyes widened, in shock. Fear, even.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, taking two long, purposeful strides toward the entrance.

The heavy steel door shut loudly behind him but then the pounding fists followed. The hyper rhythm, the same as his beating heart. He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his head.

What the fuck was that?

He had dealt with his share of autograph hunters encircling him, the roar of red carpet crowds, the blinding flashes of cameras. But he had never been rushed like that before.

“Why did you tease them like that,” Marcia lightly laughed, taking her sunglasses off. 

Before he could respond, a booming voice cut through the kitchen’s commotion.

“Mr. Skarsgård!” Bill turned as the chef approached, grinning broadly over the din of sizzling pans and clattering dishes. “And the most beautiful Marcia,” the chef greeted warmly, offering a polite bow of his head. “Right this way!”

With a sweeping gesture, he guided them through the bustling kitchen, pausing only to shake Bill’s hand before excusing himself to reprimand the rabid fans still pounding on the back door. Walking through the bustling kitchen with Marcia hanging on his arm to get to the dining area reminded him of every classic mafia movie he’d ever seen. Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, specifically, the camera following Ray Liotta and Lorraine Bracco through the Copacabana kitchen in one long take. 

They were seated, but Bill scanned the restaurant for Paz instead of perusing the menu as Marcia was. He spotted her sitting on the same side of the booth with her boyfriend Layne who was offering her a piece of his steak. Bill observed him for a moment. Seeing him again, he wondered if he ever acted before. He had such a classic look to him, a silver screen face. He had sandy blonde hair with natural highlights and striking gray-blue eyes. He wasn’t as tall as Bill but he had significant stature and carried himself as such. 

Though he knew their relationship was a fluke, he couldn’t help but feel some type of way seeing them together.

Their own food arrived, and they ate, but Bill kept an eye on Paz’s table, noticing their meal was wrapping up before his.

“I’m getting full,” Marcia announced, setting her fork down. Her plate was hardly eaten from.

“Me too,” he agreed, though he could still eat more if he liked. 

“Oh, my love. Are you sure your stomach isn’t bothering you still?”

“Well—”

“We could go? So you can rest up some more?”

“Uhm, no,” he said, clearing his throat. “There’s someone here I’d like to talk to.”

Marcia glanced around the restaurant, taking in the usual crowd. “Who?”

“That gentleman, Layne Roy,” he nudged his head subtly in his direction.

She followed, discreetly peering over. “Oh, yes. Paz’s partner,” she mused.

“You… have you worked with her?”

“On Claudetta. You visited the set so many times. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already,” she teased. 

“No,” he smiled. “I remember the name now.”

“She’s lovely, though a bit odd at times,” Marcia leaned in, lowering her voice. “Since that accident, she’s been a little… well, you know.”

Bill pursed his lips, nodding slowly as he followed along. “Right, right…” 

“Well, I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said, rising gracefully. “Go on, talk business with Mr. Roy like I know you will,” she winked.

Bill stood when she did, waiting politely until she was gone. It was the same courtesy expected in his own time, but here, it felt like he had to turn up the chivalry several notches.

A waiter placed fresh cocktails at Paz’s table, and Bill took that as his cue.

Stepping up, he saw Paz notice him first—her posture straightening as a slow smile spread across her lips. She nudged Layne’s side, trying to draw his attention away from the bum match he was futilely trying to light.

“Yes?” Layne finally looked up, side-eyeing Paz, who only nudged him again. He lit his cigarette, and turned his head—nearly choking on the first inhale. “Excuse me,” Layne said, clearing his throat.

Bill smirked. “Excuse me.” He echoed, before tilting his head. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please,” he gestured to the open seating. “It’s uh, good to see you again.” He extended a hand, which Bill shook firmly. Maybe a little too firm. “Didn’t get to introduce myself properly last time—Layne.”

“Bill. And?” He asked, turning his attention to Paz, a playful look in his eyes.

“Paz,” Layne answered for her, reaching over to take her hand. “My darling girlfriend.”

Layne looked at her adoringly as he introduced her and then placed a kiss at her temple in front of her other boyfriend. 

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Skarsgård,” she politely said with that unfamiliar soft, sweet lilt in her tone. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he smirked. Paz had to bite her lip to suppress her giggle, amused with pretending they didn’t know each other at all. 

Layne held up his cigarette. “Would you like one?”

“Actually, I would.” Bill quickly accepted and lit his and took a puff before speaking. He had to admit it felt strange to smoke in such a nice restaurant when in his era it was vehemently forbidden. “You know, I quit, for a while.” 

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” Bill exhaled a stream of smoke, glancing at Paz, watching her absorb this new information really meant for her. “Sorta. Picked it up again today. Or a few nights ago, actually.” He shrugged, taking another pull. Paz rolled her eyes just enough for Bill to catch. 

Still, whatever her feelings towards Bill picking up the bad habit again, it was a small pleasure one could enjoy here. 

“Can we share?” she asked, looking at Bill.

“Here, honey, have a drag of mine.” Layne offered first, lifting his cigarette toward her.

“She can share mine,” Bill said firmly, with an authority that superseded Layne’s now that they were sharing a table.

Layne hesitated, then fell back slightly, watching as the cigarette passed from Bill’s fingers to Paz’s. 

Trying to push through the awkward shift in energy, Layne cleared his throat. “Uh, what’s that funny little invention you told me about, honey?” He peered at Paz as she took a slow drag and handed the cigarette back. “A vaporizer? Electronic cigarettes? Something or other?” 

“Oh,” she bashfully smiled. “A vape.” 

“A vape,” Layne nodded. “She was telling me that one day, you’d be able to smoke all kinds of flavors—strawberry shortcake, blueberry strudel,” he chuckled.

Paz stole a glance at Bill, who was listening with quiet amusement. She felt a bit embarrassed, caught even, that she liked to entertain herself this way. Dropping little glimpses of the future in the form of hypotheticals and what ifs while Layne was none the wiser.

“Could you imagine that?” Layne asked Bill.

Bill smirked. “I think she’s sitting on a million-dollar idea.”

“I don’t know…” Layne mused, taking another drag. “I told Paz it doesn’t seem practical to smoke while being plugged into the wall.”

Bill chuckled. “Right. I suppose not.”

Layne chuckled with him. “So, what brings you over?” he asked.

“Well, I heard from a pretty little birdie that you're starting your own studio company?”

Layne arched a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Is that so?” 

“Are you? Because I’m interested.”

Layne tilted his head slightly, considering. “I’m interested that you’re interested. But yes—”

“Mr. Roy?” A hostess interrupted.

“Yes?”

“You have a caller waiting for you at the service desk.”

“Did they say who?”

“A Mr. Glosser.”

Layne’s brows lifted. “Thank you, I’ll be right there.” He glanced at Paz, then looked at Bill regretfully. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

“No worries, I’ll have some company,” Bill said, gesturing toward Paz who smiled.

Layne hesitated, then leaned down to kiss Paz’s cheek before heading off. The table fell quiet until he was several paces away.

“You told him about a fucking vape?” Bill asked, taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

“In a jokey way.” Paz shrugged. “Excuse me for trying to amuse myself from time to time.” Her voice returned to the familiar tone he knew again. 

“You wanna tell him about the moon landing next? That’s a little sooner in time than a vape.”

Paz gave him a flat look, then it drifted to the platinum wedding band he wore. “Where’s your wife?”

His smirk faltered as he pressed his lips, he didn’t really like Paz addressing her as such. “It was sitting on my side of the bathroom sink.” he explained as his thumb twisted the thick band before concealing his hand under the table. “Marcia was in the bathroom. But I saw she got held up by a table, before she could come this way.” He said, as his gaze swept over the restaurant. As he did so he caught some patrons avert their eyes after stealing glances at their table. “Uhm, was this wise?” 

“Joining our table?” 

He replied with a small nod. 

“It’s fine,” Paz sighed. “It just probably looks random as hell.” 

“Mhmm. So, I’m glad you gave me the suggestion to come,” he said, tapping his cigarette ash into the tray on the table. “The chauffeur pulled around the back to avoid the crowd of fans in the front.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it didn’t work. They caught on. Almost got mobbed, like I was some member of the damn Beatles.”

“I bet. There’s always a crowd hoping to spot someone famous here.”

“You invited me so I could see that, didn’t you?”

Paz smirked. “I invited you because I wanted to see you. But yeah, that too. That’s why it’s important we be careful.”

Bill exhaled a plume of smoke, then stubbed out his cigarette, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. This kind of fame was extreme. He could manage the kind of attention he got back in his time. But this might prove to be a different beast. It made him nervous—and worried for Paz. For a time she wasn’t too keen with the fame and recognition that came with his career. It was too much, too invasive. She’d gotten spooked by his skyrocketing fame after IT. It had pushed her away, causing her to break things off shortly after the premiere.

She had come to terms with it later, but still maybe this would prove too much for her again. 

“Park a block away…” Bill muttered, and she nodded in response. “Your boyfriend still doesn’t know about us, does he?” 

Paz's chest rose as she took a deep breath, feeling the stress of the inevitable conversation she would have with Layne. “You just got here, Bill. I’ll tell him soon, okay?” 

“Okay,” his eyes darted above her head. “He’s coming back. And…” he frowned. “So is Marcia.” 

They all straightened in their seats when Marcia joined them. Layne and Paz greeted her warmly, but the men continued their conversation, leaving the women to sit in quiet observation. First, Paz looked at Bill’s outfit, zoning out looking at the detail of his gray grid patterned blazer he wore over a white mock neck. Then Paz’s eyes followed Marcia’s arm as it moved, noting how it found Bill’s hand beneath the table. She swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortable. It was a reminder of what she wanted but couldn't have in the open. That irrational seed of jealousy wanted to sprout within her.

Suddenly, Bill’s leg brushed against hers. He made no show of what he did as he continued to talk to Layne casually. Paz bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile from forming on her face. Her foot slid slowly up his shin, and she caught the briefest glance from him—a look that told her he, too, longed for privacy.

What was happening beneath the table was hidden from both Bill’s wife and Paz’s boyfriend, who sat unknowingly beside them. It was deceitful—cruel, even—but their hearts lied with neither of them.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t kept secrets before…

[josemimontalban]

Las dos Españas

A ver, Pérez, nuevamente, y van un par de miles, la mafia Partido Popular, la extrema derecha franquista, en comunión con la extrema derecha extrema nazi de sus cómplices de VOX, se lanzó este fin de semana de nuevo a la calle en número aproximado de unos cincuenta mil inasequibles a la razón, según datos oficiales, ochocientos millones según la prensa a sueldo de los hampones, y un señor de Langreo que contó uno a uno a los asistentes mientras participaba de una despedida de soltero. No obstante, Pérez, y por hacer honor a la veracidad, en los dos últimos casos, es aconsejable no conceder demasiada credibilidad, en una convocatoria fascista para participar todos ellos de una concentración de repulsa contra una presunta mafia que molesta a la verdadera mafia, que protesta contra la democracia y la Constitución que les impide formar gobierno, a pesar de haber sido la fuerza política más votada en las últimas elecciones generales celebradas en 2023, impedidos por una democrática tontada de aritmética parlamentaria, y la chorrada constitucional esa de que en un sistema parlamentario como el español, se establezca que debe formar gobierno quien obtenga los apoyos suficientes para ello, y no quien gana las elecciones; elementos ambos de nuestro ordenamiento constitucional que desconocen muchos de los acérrimos defensores de nuestra sagrada Constitución y fieles feligreses fascistas que se manifestaron contra lo que ellos consideran un gobierno ilegítimo porque no se explican, porque nadie les ha explicado, y muchos les han mentido, cómo es posible que gobierne Sánchez, si quedó segundo. De ahí tanto disparate como se escuchó el pasado domingo en las calles de Quirón City, otrora Comunidad de Madrid. Por eso la mafia, a pesar de oficialmente manifestarse contra la mafia, terminó manifestándose contra la democracia, y pidiendo, por milésima vez, elecciones anticipadas, a ver si de una vez, les cuadran las cuentas y se hacen con la llave de la caja fuerte central, antes de que nos metamos en el año judicial "horribilis" que será para la mafia PP el 2026.

A ver, Pérez, para que usted lo entienda, este finde de semana la España de la dehesa, la cazurra España, la España del que inventen ellos, la de los toros, la de muerte a la cultura, la España del servilismo, del miedo, del vuelva usted mañana, de la desigualdad, y la injusticia. La España del marichulo y las queridas, de la pía limosna, y el si no tiene usted para comer es porque no abrazó la cultura del esfuerzo. La España de los títulos comprados con el dinero ganado por el abuelo con el estraperlo y el contrabando, o con el dinero que el fascista robó al vencido republicano, la España que condecora a ladrones y asesinos, la de los enchufes, la del no sabe usted con quien está hablando, esa España del hay que fusilar a veintiséis millones de hijos de puta, la de por Dios y la patria, la que nos seca los acuíferos, la menguada España del español, porque no alcanzo al castellano, la de la ordinaria gorilona arremangándose la enagua, la de la choni con más morro que un oso hormiguero y su novio el delincuente, la del puto defender España, la palurda, la supersticiosa de misal y rosario. La España fanática, la de los encuentros marianos, la del que vivan las cadenas, la del tanto por ciento, esa España de comunión a las nueve y la puta a las diez. La puta España de los de siempre, se ha vuelto a manifestar contra la España del progreso, de la igualdad, de la solidaridad, de la democracia y la libertad, contra la España de la diversidad, del castellano, el catalán, el euskera y el gallego.

Contra la España del andaluz, el canario, el murciano, el madrileño, el extremeño...la del pueblo español que vive y trabaja en paz, la España que se espanta ante la guerra y llama genocidio al genocidio, esa España que de verdad madruga y se sacrifica cada día. La España mal pagada, a la que le roban la sanidad y la educación, mientras regalan su dinero a la Iglesia y los bancos. La España a la que le cierran los comedores escolares, porque financiado escuelas de tauromaquia, no llega el presupuesto para que los niños, pobres, coman en el cole, y si pasan hambre es porque, pobrecitos, sus padres nunca abrazaron la cultura del esfuerzo y por eso no son presidentes de una compañía energética, ni diputados, concejales, jueces, obispos o generales.

Todos se han manifestado contra la España honesta que paga impuestos, que no maltrata a los animales, que ayuda y sostiene a quienes menos tienen, a quienes llegan, asustados y desamparados, jugándose la vida desde lejos, contra la España que cuida de sus ancianos, la que no los deja morir abandonados en el dolor. Contra la España que cumple con su obligación, porque si hay que ir al Ventorro, se va, con dos cojones don Rodrigo; pero después.

En fin, mi querido Pérez, que ayer se vivió un nuevo episodio de la mala comedia hispana que llevó a don Antonio, el insigne poeta, a referirse a las “dos españas” y señalar que una de ellas nos toma por gilipollas, o algo parecido.