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Now, normally, I view “stars” as just normal human beings, like myself and the next guy, that just happen to have extraordinary jobs. But Angelina–something just seemed otherworldly about Angelina. Not only was she stunningly gorgeous, but she also appeared not to really fit into all of the cliches associated with her occupation. Of course, I guess that was reason enough to rationalize the fact that she was in this smoky, dark shanty of a watering hole. Perhaps she felt comfortable in the rare small, earthy establishments still left in the industrial world. I had to admit that even I was feeling inspired by a sense of adventure in this of all places. Running across her, however, seemed to be like finding a doubloon in a sand trap.
So of course one couldn’t expect me to keep my mouth shut. I cleared my throat and ran through about twelve different greetings, all of which seemed completely inappropriate and awkward. ‘Shit, Lisa,’ I told myself. ‘Just say hello.’ Innocent enough. “Hi,” I said meekly. Without even so much as an upward glance, she grunted, “Fuck off.”