[Veritas]

Back in the editing room, Criss and his film editor reviewed the "rushes" or segments of tape for the Sports episode they had taken so far, commenting and debating on what to use when.

"Okay, that's a good shot right there," Criss said, pointing to a bird's eye scene of himself benchpressing. "We can use that at the beginning. And that one right here, the one of me doing curls--that's a good one. We can fit that in as well."

"How about this one?" the editor asked, pointing to a shot of Criss' sweaty bare shoulders.

"Hmmmm, nah," Criss replied disapprovingly. "I want everyone to see the whole of me, not just the parts."

"How about this shot of you on the treadmill?"

Criss thought about it. "Well, the leg part can stay in for a bit, but focus more on the upper half," he said. "I'm going to be doing some narrating while I'm at it."

"Okay," the editor agreed. "How about these ab crunches? You look like you're really straining there."

"Let them see me strain," Criss insisted. "No pain, no gain. It'll show I'm really working out and not faking it."

"Why would anyone think you're faking it?"

Criss ignored the question. "Next rush."

Linehan's Gym came into view. There was a close-up of Criss in the corridor: (Inhales deeply) "You've heard of Brut?" (coughing and choking) "This is brutal!"

"Oh, that's classic, Criss!" the editor laughed. "Real classic."

The tape played on. "Good shots of the ring, there," the editor commented. "Hey, there's George!"

Criss and the editor watched George punch the heavy bag with his left. "I thought you said he had a good right hook." the editor said, puzzled.

"So?" Criss shrugged. "Now he's working on his left. You gotta box with two hands, you know."

The tape ended abruptly. "Didn't get much in there, did you?"

"Hey, it was only the first day," Criss reminded him. "Besides, that place would make you gag, it stinks so bad in there. We had to get out before we passed out."

The editor smiled. "Sweaty socks? Damp towels? Armpits?"

Criss nodded. "Among other things."

"Okay, let's see what's next."

They watched the monitor closely for the next segment. Suddenly, Criss exploded in outrage. "What the (bleep)?" he roared.

The editor was stunned at first, then embarrassed, then amused. It seemed that former cameraman Kevin had slipped his indiscreet little video of Criss emerging from the shower into the rushes for the show. "Oh, my God," he murmured.

"Who the (bleep) put that in there?"

The editor protested his innocence. "Criss, I swear, I--"

"Get it out of there! NOW!!"

The editor hit the Delete button, erasing the incriminating evidence from the rushes. "Okay, okay," he said placatingly. "It's gone, see?"

Criss' anger simmered down. "Good," he said, regaining his self-control. "I'm so going to kill that (bleeper) when I find him."

"Well, you said you wanted everyone to see the whole of you," the editor reminded him.

Criss shot his editor a dirty look in reply.





Three PM rolled around, and with it came the mail for MindFreak Productions. All fan mail was swiftly transferred to another office to be answered by a team of secretaries hired for just that purpose, while business correspondence was routed to their respective departments: Accounting, Merchandising, Legal, and Production among others. Criss' personal mail, such as cell phone bills, credit card statements and other mundane affairs, were delivered to his private mailbox in his office.

Criss arrived at the production office after going over the rushes with his editor, still sour over the nude scene that has been slipped in without his knowledge. He grabbed his mail for the day and retreated into the sanctity of his office, the scowl on his face giving notice to the staff that he was not to be disturbed.

Cell phone bill; AmEx statement; VISA statement; ad from some wireless network promising to reduce his long-distance plan by thirty percent that he sent sailing into the wastebasket; a postcard from Rose Medical Center--

Rose Medical Center? What the hell do they want? Criss wondered as he flipped over the paperboard card. On the back was a preprinted message with the date and blanks filled in:

Dear Mr. Criss Angel.

Just a reminder that your annual physical is on: Monday, **/**/20**

at: 9:30am X pm__

Please bring a photo ID and insurance card with you on the day of your appointment. We advise you to arrive at least fifteen minutes early to fill out the necessary forms. We look forward to seeing you soon!

Sincerely,

The Staff at Rose Medical Center.

To his chagrin, Criss recalled that he had made the appointment for that coming Monday morning, one of his few days off. There was no getting out of it; the annual physical was part of the contract he had made with the Luxor. All medical expenses were covered by the hotel management, including doctor's visits, prescriptions, dental work, and any injuries he suffered doing his demonstrations. Oh, great, he groaned inwardly, I gotta spend my day off in some doctor's office, reading old magazines in the waiting room until it's my turn in the examining room, then go through all those (bleeping) tests they give me every year that don't show anything!
What was worse was that he had promised Costa he would pose nude for him for his portfolio that evening. After what he saw in the editing room earlier that day, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go through with it, but he reminded himself that a promise was a promise, especially when it came to family. I gotta strip for the doctors and nurses in the morning, then I gotta strip for Costa in the evening, he said to himself. I'm going to be (bleeping) naked practically all (bleeping) day! I am so not looking forward to Monday!