[Veritas]

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Criss was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking to his manager, Dave Baram, on his cell phone, his wet hair dripping. "Do I really have to adjust my whole production schedule for this?" he asked. "I mean, can't we give the guy a couple of complimentary passes to the matinee or something?"

"Criss, this is Buzz Aldrin we're talking about!" Dave said, growing more anxious by the minute. "This guy's a genuine American hero, for God's sakes! We're talking Apollo 11, here; first man on the moon and all that!"

"Actually, Neil Armstrong was the first man on the moon," Criss reminded him. "Buzz was the second."

"Who the (bleep) cares!" Dave cried. "He's coming here to the Luxor for a special exhibit and we gotta do something about it! Get him on MagicPlace dot com or whatever! This is gonna be big, Criss! This could be huge!"

Criss sighed. As much as he prided himself on being totally in control of his career, there were times when somebody or something usurped it, leaving him no choice but to adapt, be it the weather or visiting former astronauts. "Okay, fine," he grumbled, "I'll see what I can do."

Baram seemed to relax a little. "Fine," he said, "see you in an hour or so."

Criss muttered a simple "Later," and turned off his phone. Sandra emerged from the bathroom, tying her kimono around her. "What was that all about?" she asked.

"Well, it seems that Dave wants me to make room for Buzz Aldrin on my show this weekend," Criss explained. "He's coming to the Luxor for some sort of exhibit or something."

Sandra's big, dark eyes widened. "Buzz Aldrin? The astronaut?"

Criss nodded. "Yeah."

He rose to his feet and went back into the bathroom to shave. "So how come Dave wants you to get him on your show?" Sandra asked.

"Oh, I dunno," Criss replied as he slathered shaving cream onto his jaw. "Because he thinks it'll be good for ratings, I guess."

Sandra picked up a pair of panties and a lacy bra and began to dress. "Your ratings aren't that bad, are they?"

Criss dragged the razor across his face. "With Dave, anything below one hundred percent isn't good enough. The guy'll do anything to boost ratings short of--OWWW! Son of a (bleep)!"

Sandra stopped dressing. "You okay in there?"

"Ah, I just cut myself shaving, that's all," Criss grumbled. "Not the first time."

He daubed the tiny wound with a piece of toilet tissue and went on shaving. "Anyway, Dave wants me to book Buzz on MagicPlace for an interview. Don't know why--I mean, the guy's not a magician or anything."

"Well, you had other non magician celebrities on you show before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but they were mostly friends of mine, entertainer types," Criss said as he wiped his face. "I don't even know Buzz Aldrin, personally. I mean, I was just a baby when he landed on the moon. Don't know how I'm gonna get him on the show."

Sandra slipped a silky tank top over her head. "Well, you promised Dave you would."

"I didn't promise Dave anything," Criss argued as he emerged from the bathroom, clean shaven save for a small round Band-Aid on his chin where he had cut himself. "I said I'd see what I could do, that's all. He probably won't be able to make it anyway," he added as he grabbed a pair of raggedy jeans and pulled them on over his CK briefs. "He's probably got a full agenda as it is."

"Well, you can try, anyway."

"Yeah, I can try, sure, but I'm not gonna promise anything definate."

He pulled a grey Affliction T-shirt over his still wet head. Once it passed his eyes he saw Sandra's shapely behind, ill concealed by a purple thong, presented to him in all its glory. Now there's a moon shot for ya! he thought laciviously.

He approached her doubled over form, making beeping noises. "Houston, we're approaching the Sea of Tranquility," he spoke in a staticky voice with his hand over his mouth. Then he grabbed her by the hips and ground his loins into her flesh. "Tranquility Base, here! The Eagle has landed!"

Sandra giggled and pulled away. "Will you knock it off?" she laughed. "I thought you had to go to work." She hiked up her shorts and grabbed him by the hand. "Now, come on, Buzz Aldrin," she said, leading him out of the bedroom, "we got to get some breakfast."

Criss hummed a few bars of "Fly Me to the Moon" as he allowed himself to be led downstairs into the dining room. His personal chef, Ed Bible, had already laid a light summer breakfast of fruit, whole grain muffins, and coffee. He would have preferred more substantial fare, but his last visit to the doctor reminded him that he was in his mid forties and should be eating healthier if he intended to keep up with the demands of his career. Wonder what the Apollo astronauts ate before they went to the moon, he thought as he sat down at the huge table. Better than this, probably.