Executive Producer/Rapist tells the narrator he was able to snag a place for her at his table during the Golden Globes. Narrator is so grateful, so giddy with excitement. Really? We’re just five pages till the end. Is this going to be one of those novels where the rapist gets away with . . . everything?
On the evening of, the narrator keeps craning her neck to see if she can spot the actress/rape victim, because she misses her.
Get this: the narrator is sitting at the rapist’s table, and she still hopes the actress will come up to her WHILE SHE IS SITTING AT THE RAPIST’S TABLE. Is she mental? (Subtext: rape, it’s no big deal, stop being such a crybaby etc etc)
Stay tuned.
Kanlaon 