Two special police guards shouldered their way up to Jason Taverner and Heather. “We’ve got the corridor as clear as we’re going to get it,” the fatter of the two cops wheezed. “Let’s go now, Mr. Taverner. Before the studio audience can trickle around to the side exits.” He signaled to three other special police guards, who at once advanced toward the hot, packed passageway that led, eventually, to the nocturnal street. And out there the parked Rolls flyship in all its costly splendor, its tail rocket idling throbbingly. Like, Jason thought, a mechanical heart. A heart that beat for him alone, for him the star. Well, by extension, it throbbed in response to the needs of Heather, too.
She deserved it: she had sung well, tonight. Almost as well as – Jason grinned inwardly, to himself. Hell, let’s face it, he thought. They don’t turn on all those 3-D color TV sets to see the special guest star. There are a thousand special guest stars scattered over the surface of earth, and a few in the Martian colonies.
They turn on, he thought, to see me. And I am always there. Jason Taverner has never and will never disappoint his fans.
: Jason Taverner On Top of the World
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