Fax
To: Dr. Derek Rayne
Of: Luna Foundation
Fax: 1-415-555-8**1
Phone: 1-415-555-8**9
Pages: 2, including this cover sheet.
Date: Monday, August 19, 1993, 11:18 PDT
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From the desk of... Judge Margaret Hamilton, Los Angeles County Superior Court
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Dear Derek,
I apologize for making this an office fax. I hate these
newfangled contraptions - too impersonal. But I didn't want to
dawdle.
This is me on a thoroughly serious note. I truly want to thank
you for your kindness. It was, in every way, the act of a
gentleman and most certainly above and beyond the call of duty.
The penthouse was absolutely marvelous, as was the company.
I apologize for some of my more risque moments - as you well
know, I occasionally get carried beyond the bounds of common
sense. However, sometimes you present such a ripe target that
it's impossible to resist - you blush such a lovely shade of red,
and you really should let that laugh escape more often. It's a
joy to hear, my dear.
I hope you enjoyed Sigfried & Roy as much as I did, but then I'm
a push over for anything with home-grown fur, present fax
recipient included. However, nothing can compare to my pleasure
at seeing "the toad" croak. I'll be laughing for years to come.
Now, to the point. I got the feeling all weekend that you were
avoiding a discussion about Mr. Boyle, which means things must
not be going as you had hoped. That one carries a lot of anger
buried inside him. I see it frequently in troubled young men.
It's not a pretty sight from my side of the bench and leads to a
lot of tragedy.
He needs you as much as you need him. If you don't manage to pull
him out now and set him on some sort of path, he's headed for
real trouble. And, if you don't get some help yourself, you're
going to do a crash and burn. I see it in your eyes - you're worn
way too thin, mister. Hell, you never even slept an hour straight
through. I really think you should come to Tahiti with me. I'd
even be willing to make a stop at Easter Island to make you happy
- and I do so love to see you happy.
I'm going to step into the psychologist role that my job often
requires. I have to wonder if you're expecting and wanting Mr.
Boyle to be his father. I realize you were close, but that's past
- dead and buried. I'm sorry, but it's ttrue and it's time to let
go of the father and to make a new friend in the son, who is his
own person with his own past and his own desires. And, here's a
hint, my dear friend - quit trying to manipulate him. He's a
bright boy - you'll lose him. Maybe he needs a challenge instead
- after all, I can think of nothing moree challenging than being a
SEAL.
OK, me off the soap box.
Love, Maggie
P.S. The brood gives their best. I arrived home to a very
contrite house sitter and a shredded couch. I thought they were a
bit young for such behavior, but I guess numbers make up for what
strength lacks.
P.P.S Honey - let me tell you something. Wherever we end up
going - Sydney, Tahiti, hell - even the Gobi Desert - you make
sure you pack that tuxedo of yours. You put my little ol' beaded
number to shame Saturday night. Instead of you defending me from
Mr. Tubola. I was swatting your admirers away like flies from
horse s**t on a hot summer day. Besides, that tux is a hellava
lot of fun to take off. I declare, I do love them little pearly
things called "studs" - and you can take that however you like,
Sweetcheeks.
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