He was using me to work out his new material, the green-friendly repackaging of Keith Conner, which would give him the edge on the red carpet, where it really mattered. But now playacting was over and it was time to get down to business. Sensing this, Keith held out his arms. "So what the hell are you doing here, Davis? Aren't we suing each other?" He flashed his camera-ready smile. "How's that going, by the way?" "I'm here to take possession of the house." Trista didn't look up, but she touched a fist to her lips. Keith smirked and beckoned for me to talk. "I have something of yours." That got his attention. I removed a DVD, a matching one from my office, and held it up. "What is it?" "It looks like a disc, Keith," Trista said. I liked her as much as I liked looking at her. "Yeah, but what's on it?" he asked. "I don't know," I said. "Didn't you have someone leave it for me?" "Me send you a DVD? Davis, I haven't thought of you since you got kicked off my movie." He gestured around, appealing to an invisible supporting cast.
