Chapter 11: Mr. November
I’m alone at the studio, using my laptop and reviewing shots, when the security guard, Renaldo Binx, rings the studio’s intercom/speaker system. I stand, walk to the Aiphone device, and press the white button that says speak. “I’m here, Binx.”
“You have a visitor. A Mr. Jameston Needleton. Should I let him up?” Binx sounds sophisticated. More English than American, even after living in the States for the past twenty years. He’s worked in the building for the last dozen years and has made very smart decisions regarding stalkers, trespassers, and the everyday visitor. Rarely does he get hassled, questioned, and bothered by the tenants.
I have no idea who Jameston Needleton is, but tell Binx, “Send him up.”
Needleton…Needleton…Needleton. It’s vague within my mind,
