Electra’s Theme


They played little clips of two interviews: The one with Amelia and the one with the Restaurant Sylphs. We saw them on a big-screen monitor over Mindy’s shoulder. I assume the people at home saw it directly.

They talked about the kind of show Electra wanted to do. Then Mindy asked, “So, what would you have as the theme song for your segment?”

“Theme?” Electra asked.

“A song. If there were no concerns about copyright, or any other conflict, what would you most like to play as people get ready to listen to you?”

“Oh, wow,” Electra said. She stood up and looked over at me. “What would you pick?”

“If it was my segment, I’d pick ‘I Can’t Dance,’ by Genesis,” I said. “But for you? Probably Tom Lehrer’s’ The Elements.’ Because you’re smart.”

“Mmm,” Mindy nodded. “We had Richard Dean Anderson on the show, he sang that.”

“MacGyver?” Electra asked, bouncing a little bit. Mindy nodded. “Cool. But no. No, the show’s always been about the guests, not me. I’d take the Bangles song, In A Different Light.”

Mindy nodded. “Perfect,” she said. “Of course, we wondered if it might have been ‘Gitarzan,’ instead.” She leaned back, turning to face the big TV. I saw myself walking across the stage, putting my pith helmet on.

Electra gasped. Well, we always knew New York would be dangerous…

-----

We had lunch with Mark and Mindy, some place so expensive they didn’t have prices on the menu, and very few of the choices were in English. I was terrified of doing the wrong thing, like ordering some sort of dipping sauce as my entrée.

Electra walked across the menu we shared, caught my eye, and dragged her shoe across one entry. “Oh, look, Conrad! They have Chateaubriand!”

“Oh, I didn’t see that!” I said thankfully. “I’ll have that.” She nodded and walked over to… something else. She had smoothly made a recommendation AND told me how to pronounce it. Good work for a silly little much smarter than me sylph.

“That was an impressive show,” Mindy told us. “You guys are going to do great.”

“You think so?” Electra asked. “I don’t know… I may never look this good again.”

“No one looks as good after Joy,” Mindy nodded. “But we’ll have her send you a tape. Some tips you can do for yourself, until you can hire a sylph make-up artist.”

“We’re hiring sylphs?” I asked.

“The Anthonys have found a couple we can use,” Mark said. “One for hair and make-up, one for helping with the clothes.” He coughed and shifted uncomfortably. “Of course, we’re not hiring them, as much as buying them. The network is.”

“Oh,” Electra nodded.

Chateaubriand turned out to be steak. Electra had some sort of seafood. I think.

After lunch, Mark had to head to the airport, he had meetings to attend in Boise.

Electra was scheduled for some publicity photos that afternoon, and we’d be flying back home in the morning.

Mindy escorted us back to the studio, wished us well, and left.

Many hours later, we had dinner at the hotel. Electra had a hankering for something afterwards and we found there was a bakery a couple doors down from the hotel.

The specialty of the shop was a cupcake about the size of a soup bowl. She begged for one of those, though I didn’t make her beg very hard. We took two back to the room.

We called the folks, who’d caught the show, then watched TV while the buzz from the day slowly faded. Also, waiting for there to be room in our stomachs to eat the cupcakes.

MacGuyver was building a nuclear reactor with two glow-in-the-dark watches and a coat hanger when Electra went into her carrier.

She came out dressed for lounging, wearing her ankle-length kimono. She sat on my shoulder until the show ended.

Nothing was on after that, so I got up and turned it off, then sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating my cupcake. I put Electra down between hers and her carrier.

Electra turned to face me. “Okay, what would you really choose for my theme song?”

“Steely Dan did a song, part of the Heavy Metal soundtrack,” I said softly. “’True Companion’.”

“Another insulin shot,” she said, but her tone wasn’t critical. Neither was her smile. She scratched her chin. “Didn’t Sheena Easton do a James Bond movie?”

“Yeah,” I said. “In ‘For Your Eyes Only.’ She sang the title track.”

“Oh, yes,” she said almost convincingly. She’s not really subtle at subterfuge. I wondered what was up.

Then she opened her robe and let it slip from her shoulders down to a puddle at her ankles. “For your eyes, only.”



-----
Index

63. Electra's Introduction

65. Frosting Marks The Spot (N)