The clandestine nature of hotel restaurants felt so forbidden, but it was Billie's idea to dine in one, and JR couldn't refuse.

     Was this how the devil felt when he did something brilliant, but wrong?

     He was committed to enjoying dinner and that's all, no matter what his nice-guy conscience said, and all Delilah knew was that he was meeting with Billie, nothing more. No harm, no foul.

     This would even the score for having immortalized Conner in her writing, at least he hoped it would. 

     JR made a ball of the paper bar napkin below his scotch and water, thinking about the one-man security detail he hired and abhorred. With his big hands, cargo pants, and quaint yes, ma'ams, JR wondered why he didn't have the courage to fire him.

     Because you can't take care of Delilah as well as he can. 

     He washed down the pity party with a gulp of hard liquor. 

     Then again, if someone had to jump in front of a bullet and die, it should be someone as disposable as Conner, and although it was a vile, wicked proposal, JR's fragile ego needed protection, too.

     He finished the last of the scotch, choking on the bitter taste, asking himself why he ordered a drink this disgusting.

     The bartender nudged at his empty glass. "Another drink, boss?"

     JR shook his head, wanting to limber up before meeting Billie, not get drunk.

     As he fiddled with the napkin, he turned to the right, and there she was.

     The dark make-up around her eyes made them more enticing than usual, her tiny body snug against her onyx dress. Walking was so effortless to her that it looked more like flying, and any relaxation the scotch had caused disappeared. He stood, unsure where to place his hands.

     She smiled as her dainty legs moved her towards him, then placed her small hands on his shoulders and placed a kiss on his cheek. "So good to see you."

     JR rattled his brain wondering if this was a Latin American custom, or she just wanted to kiss him. His face heated when her soft cheek pressed against his, and he spent more time than was necessary contemplating if he should return the favor. "You look great."

     She placed her hand on her chest and thanked him, like she didn't know.

     "I got us a table," said JR, more proud than he should have been. "Shall we?"

     "We shall."

     JR made a signal to the maître d'hôtel, who escorted him and Billie to their table. The place may have been too luxurious for a business meeting, but JR remained unperturbed. What did it matter when he was with the one stranger he wanted to be with?

     The sommelier arrived with wine, which JR knew a little about, as growing up with a cosmopolitan Jewish family meant going through typical adolescent motions, from international travel to piano lessons.

     Billie discussed her work, and JR didn't mind listening and staring. From her full lips, to her neck, to the light around her eyes, she was hypnotizing, and he wanted to hear everyone he knew speak in that sexy, airy accent.

     He shared stories about Charlie Smith and how much shorter he was in person than people expected, and he laughed, and so did she, until dinner interrupted. Pesto linguine for him and roasted vegetables with bow tie pasta and olive oil for her.

     "That looks healthy," said JR. "I hope you don't think you have to diet."

     "No eggs or dairy for me."

     "No eggs or dairy? I'm already the biggest inconvenience at dinner parties, being a vegetarian and all."

     "It keeps you fit."

     His eyes traveled from her waist to the top of her head. "Sure does."

     She took a sip of wine. "Is your girlfriend a vegetarian also?"

     JR froze mid-chew, elongating his jaw. He wondered how she knew, and then he remembered he was famous. "She's trying, but I don't know."     

     "Don't know what, if she's being faithful?"

     JR swallowed the food in his mouth, and Billie giggled without making noise. "Faithful to the vegetarian diet."

     "Right, I don't think she's being faithful to the diet."

     "You think she's cheating... on the diet?"

     JR cooked inside his clothes like a Thanksgiving turkey. "Yes, I think she's eating burgers when I'm not looking."

     "Can you prove it?"

     "No."

     "So you have trust issues?"

     JR kept his head in place, but his eyes looked left and right. Was he being set up, or was Billie smarter than he gave her credit for? "There's a lot of temptation around her."

     Billie picked up her wine glass and spoke to it. "Even if a girl was surrounded by beefcake, if she's yours, there's no way she would stray."

     JR's pants tightened below the table, and he shifted his mindset to a less arousing topic. "Yes, well, I think she wants me to be an actual superhero, when I'm not."

     Billie tilted her head. "But you are."

     "In the movies, I am."

     "In real life, too, if you think about it. How many people can say they save lives three times a day? Decrying violence every time you sit down for a meal is so easy, and yet most people couldn't be bothered to order Eggplant Parmesan instead of steak."

     I wish you could meet my girlfriend and convince her.

     On second thought, it's best if you two don't meet.

     "I saw a lot of your movies, you know, when I was in high school," said Billie. "My parents and I watched lots of American movies when we moved to the U.S."

     JR held his breath, as he had been too busy admiring her that it never occurred to him that she might be a fan of his.

     Billie took a bite of food, then wiped her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick. "I hated all the Rambo-Terminator-James-Bond movies, but you, always so selfless, so comfortable with your own emotions."

     On any other woman, her compliment would sound condescending, but on her, it was a symphony.  

     "I felt safe just watching you," said Billie.

     JR had been described as 'safe' by women before, but never in the context of providing protection. Maybe he wasn't a lovable loser after all, and maybe, Rambo was the bad guy all along, and JR was the hero.

     They finished their meals with an occasional knowing grin tossed back and forth.

     "Do you know why I asked you to meet me here?" said Billie.

     He took a sip of wine. "Because their pasta's fresh?"

     She dropped her hands on her lap. "I have a room upstairs."

     The wine threatened to drown him, and he brought a napkin to his mouth. "I'm sorry?"

     She smiled. "You wrote ARAA a large check, and I want you to see what all your money got you."

     He sat up straight, rearranging his used silverware. "I trust you did well with it."

     "Seeing is believing."

      Holy crap, is she flirting with me? "And what would we find in your room?"

     "Something that would make your girlfriend see you for the hero you are."

     JR's bravado died when he heard the word girlfriend.

     He paid for dinner, and Billie walked ahead of him, telling him to meet her in Room 487.

     Whatever it was he was in for, one scotch and a glass of wine wasn't going to cut it, and he returned to the bar to order a shot of vodka, pouring it down his gullet in a flash. 

     He left a $20 bill on the table, wiped his mouth, and headed for the elevators as his mind told him to go back, to return to his semi-faithful girlfriend, but he hadn't crossed a line, not yet. He just had to make sure he told Delilah before the tabloids did.

     Once he was in front of Room 487, he wiped his hand on his pant leg, as he heard voices coming from the room. What kind of rendezvous is this?

     He knocked, and there was no answer. 

     He knocked again, and Billie opened the door this time, in the same clothes as before, but barefoot. "Come on in."

     When he entered, he saw the same group of young dissidents from the ARAA meeting, occupying different places around the room, from the balcony to the floor. They wore the same clothes they did at the meeting, as if they'd never changed.

     JR felt like the oldest person in the room, and an odd betrayal took over. Of all the things he expected to find, this wasn't on the radar.

     Everyone looked at him for a moment, with some nudging their heads up.

     On one wall was a map with pins and red markings, and although the mini-bar remained untouched, cups of coffee littered anything with a flat surface. It was a scene from a detective movie, one with rogue cops and Chinatown endings.

     Billie stood next to JR. "Ravens, you remember Jay."

     One of the guys smoking a cigarette on the balcony came back inside, eyeing JR with quiet admiration as JR's trust in Billie came into question. Did she expect him to dress and act this way?

     She turned to JR. "You wanted to see where your money's going, well, here it is."

     He tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "Sure hope I'm not paying for these college parties."

     Billie kept a straight face. "I paid for this hotel. We have to change locations every other meeting to throw off the cops."

     "The cops?"

     "They don't agree that we should be saving the lives of the innocent," said one of the kids.

     JR turned to Billie. "I'm confused."

     "Remember when Andrew thanked these guys for getting the footage we needed for What's for Dinner? Well, they discovered something else. As it turns out, the factory farm they investigated doubles as a testing lab."

     "And it's about time we did something about it," said the balcony smoker.

     JR didn't know any of these people, and he wondered when proper introductions would be made. "I agree, which is why I funded the documentary, so we can expose these people."

     "But what if that's not enough?" said Billie. "What if every second we spend talking to congressmen and posting flyers was another second these animals spend in concentration camps?"

     What?! His eyes contracted in shock. "Concentration camps?"

     "Yes."

     Her lack of remorse robbed her of attractiveness. "Don't you think that's going too far? People associate concentration camps with the Holocaust."

     "This is a holocaust," said Billie. "Millions of innocent beings are being killed for no other reason than because they have feathers, hooves, and snouts. If those animals were human beings, we wouldn't be here talking, because every man, woman, and child in America would be breaking down those walls and setting those innocent victims free."

     JR's face switched from one emotion to another. Was this a reality prank show set-up? Who in their right mind would voice a thought this outrageous?

     Billie grabbed his shoulders. "Jay, if you could go back in time and stop slavery, would you?"

     He knew what to say, but didn't know how to answer. Billie needed to hear conviction, and he couldn't pull it off in the moment. "Yes, of course."

     "So would I, but there's no time machine, so if we can't fix what happened before, why can't we stop what's happening today?"

     "Stop it how?"

     The balcony smoker flicked his cigarette outside. "By blowing up the walls of that God-forsaken animal testing laboratory, rescuing the animals, and shipping them to an animal sanctuary in San Bernardino."

     "Blowing up the walls?" said JR.

     "With these," said one of the guys, who sat on the edge of the bed.

     He opened the zipper of a gym bag that rested on the floor and pulled out a pipe bomb. "And there's plenty more where that came from."

     JR's stomach sank as he took a step back. "You're not kidding. You're going to blow it up."

     Billie nodded.

     "But won't the people inside get hurt?"

     The kid put the pipe bomb back in the bag. "No one's going to die because no one will be inside. Once we get the animals out of there, we're turning that concentration camp to ashes."

     "Poetic justice, don't you think?" said Billie.

     All JR heard was his own heartbeat, and he turned to Billie. "Can we talk outside for a minute?"

     The two exited the room, as she placed the Do Not Disturb sign between the door and frame to keep it closed, but unlocked.

     "Billie, I can't have any part in this."

     She nodded. "Okay."

     He blinked. "You're okay with that?"

     "Of course, I am. You've helped enough funding this project."

     JR's eyes widened. "No, I'm not funding this. It's..."

     He looked over his shoulder, then back at her. "It's terrorism."

     She pulled her face back. "That's what you think this is, terrorism?"

     "By definition, it is."

     Billie sighed. "All I wanted was to offer you the opportunity to be a hero, a real hero, and you can't tell me that after seeing the footage I sent you that all you want to do is sit around and eat tofu."

     It was what he wanted to do. "Well, no, but—"

     "Look, those kids in there, they look up to you. You're just like them, except richer, cooler, with a big house, a nice car, and a supermodel girlfriend, so if you can show them that guys like you can do the right thing, it'll inspire them. Wouldn't you rather see them here fighting for what's right than out in the streets robbing liquor stores?"

     "Yes, but—"

     "You don't have to do what we do. Just..."

     She placed a light hand on his chest, "...don't say anything."

     JR was hers again.

     "And besides," said Billie "If it is terrorism, who would suspect people like us?"