The reunion Part 11

Back at Pampas, Chris and the Anchorite's conversation had turned to legal issues surrounding using real place names and businesses in fictional works.

"They sure didn't cover this area of law in law school," Chris said. "I have no clue. Crimes I can do – well, you know what I mean. But this…."

The Anchorite's electronically modified voice emanated from his shadowy figure. "I'm more of a [area of law redacted] guy myself," he said.

"You're pretty serious about maintaining your anonymity online aren't you? Anyway, about these legal issues--Amazon to the rescue!" Then Chris paused and bit her lip. "I mean, if I can say 'Amazon.'"

"Just go with it for now. What are you finding?"

Chris peered down at her iPad, where she was searching "Most of the legal guidebooks for writers concentrate on protecting the writers' legal rights. It's hard to find a book for writers on how to respect others rights."

"You portray all the businesses in a very positive light, so you shouldn't have a problem," the Anchorite said. "But we want to be sure."

"I really only like to write about things I like," Chris said. "The best restaurants in one of the most affluent areas in the world, my favorite books, my favorite retailer — okay, I think I found the book I want. I'm ordering it now."

"What is it?"

"'The Copyright Permission and Libel Handbook: A Step-by-Step Guide for Writers, Editors, and Publishers.'"

"Can we mention the name of the book?"

"I guess we'll find out after I get it," Chris said. "In the meantime, let's follow your suggestion and just continue the story."


With a flash of red light and the sound of a Chinese gong, Grease and the others had been transported to a different restaurant. Grease looked around blearily. He had seldom been in such a lovely space. The interior was large, elegant and somehow cozy in the classiest possible way. The walls were a warm buttery yellow with white crown moldings and wainscoting. The illuminated and soffited ceiling gave the interior a light, rarefied atmosphere. Softly lit wall alcoves charmingly displayed elaborate bouquets and fine art objects.

Just as Grease's eyes cleared, Pope Hian slapped him across the face with a pair of embroidered silk gloves. "Fool," he said. "How could you forget I exist?"

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