Chase was late by the time he arrived at LAX. He walked into baggage claim and saw his parents sitting there with their suitcases in front of them. They\u2019d packed too much and they looked out of place. His mother, Miriam, barely fit in her seat, flipping through a celebrity magazine, licking her large, round thumb before each turn of the page. Two seats down sat his father, dressed all in denim, with a dirty white cowboy hat (\u201cthe good guys,\u201d he\u2019d say) that Chase, in his thirty-one years, had rarely seen him without; it never quite fit the odd, oblong shape of his head. Once when Chase was young, he\u2019d been riding on the tractor with his father, out in the field, on the thirty-acre cattle farm where his father worked outside Lexington, Kentucky, when his father removed the hat to wipe sweat from his forehead. His head was bald and glossy and ghostly white. There was a tattoo on it of a crown of thorns.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Chase had asked, as his father put his hat back on.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing,\u201d his father had said, and never mentioned it again.<\/p>\n
Miriam was the first to see him. \u201cThere\u2019s our movie star!\u201d she said and waved her arms. Loose heavy skin swung from beneath each of them. She rolled up from her seat and pulled him into a tight, sweaty hug. \u201cI can\u2019t believe we finally made it to Hollywood!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis isn\u2019t Hollywood. Hollywood is that way.\u201d He pointed, realizing as he did that he had no idea which direction it was. \u201cActually, I mean, I\u2019m not exactly sure either.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe more you know,\u201d Miriam said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s OK. Isn\u2019t Hollywood on the Internet now anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know, I just do email.\u201d<\/p>\n
His father, Will, didn\u2019t respond. His face was obscured by a copy of Guns & Ammo<\/em>. Miriam stepped back and looked up at Chase. He was nearly a foot taller than her.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is this you\u2019re wearing?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat? This old thing?\u201d He did a stagy twirl.<\/p>\n \u201cAll the chains, and ripped leather. You look like a holiday ghost.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cChristmas,\u201d said Will, from behind his magazine. \u201cWe\u2019re saying Christmas<\/em> again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s eating LaPierre?\u201d Chase said to Miriam.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, he\u2019s upset they confiscated his knife at the airport.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey can\u2019t just do<\/em> that. It\u2019s my property. It\u2019s my right. I\u2019ve had that knife for ten years. Besides, what took you so long, Jason? We\u2019ve been waiting for hours.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are our thoughts on time as social construct? Oh, and they call me Chase now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s they?\u201d Will said.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s my stage name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s his stage name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cChase<\/em>. Like car<\/em> chase.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I get it.\u201d<\/p>\n Chase excused himself and went inside to find a bathroom. He ducked into a stall and punched the wall over and over. Then he walked back out. \u201cSorry about that,\u201d Chase said. \u201cNature called.\u201d He gingerly undid one of his leather biker gloves, and stretched out his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to your knuckles?\u201d Will said.<\/p>\n Before he could answer, Miriam squealed and hugged Chase. \u201cIsn\u2019t he just\u2014?\u201d Will looked away. \u201cAnyway, I\u2019m ready to drop. Say we load up the car, and head to your place.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFunny thing,\u201d Chase said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The bus was off its schedule.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll pay for a rental,\u201d Will said, after an hour. \u201cThis is ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, you won\u2019t,\u201d Chase said. \u201cIt\u2019ll be here soon.\u201d<\/p>\n When they finally got on, Will positioned himself with his legs around his suitcase, eyeing each of the bus\u2019 riders. At one point, he leaned over toward Chase, his mouth smelling like chewing tobacco. \u201cI was listening to Rush the other day\u2014English has become a second language in LA County. More people speak Spanish than English now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRush. Seems a little right-wing for them. Is that from Moving Pictures?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, this was on the radio.\u201d<\/p>\n His mother, on the other hand, greeted each new bus rider as they got on. Welcome aboard! Isn\u2019t this so fun? <\/em>\u201cMy, that looks delicious!\u201d she said to a man sitting nearby, who was hunched over a steaming styrofoam container of rice, beans, and shredded chicken. He looked up at her, expressionless, and returned to his meal. The man was short and muscular, with buzzed black hair and thick calves. \u201cWhere did you get that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom,\u201d Chase said. \u201cHe\u2019s trying to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m just wondering where he got it. Where did you get it? It looks so good! Maybe, if we get the name of the restaurant, we could go there later on? Glad I packed the extra insulin. Don-dey pole-o?\u201d <\/em>she said.<\/p>\n Chase put his face in his hands. \u201cMom, stop.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI took two years of Spanish at Woodford High. Don-dey free-jolz<\/em>? Don-dey pole-o<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n A heavyset woman sitting nearby wearing large, studded, wraparound shades turned to his mother and said, \u201cshut your ass, white lady.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe first to mention race is the racist,\u201d Will said.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd fuck you too, John Wayne,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n The man snapped his container shut. He stood up and muttered something angry sounding in Spanish, then found a seat at the back of the bus.<\/p>\n His mother quieted. She placed her hands across her belly and called \u201ca-dee-os<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n Shut the fuck up!<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cBeautiful town,\u201d she said to the bus driver.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n By the time they reached the house, Miriam was sweating, holding her sides, gritting her teeth, breathing heavily. She pinched at the fabric on the side of her floral muumuu and fanned out her armpit. \u201cOh, this\u2026is\u2026wonderful\u2026!\u201d she said.<\/p>\n The house was small and rustic: a green and purple Spanish bungalow with a neat, square, lawn, surrounded by palm trees and flowering yucca.<\/p>\n Will appraised the house. Chase knew that look; he was sizing it up, seeing how it was built. \u201cOK,\u201d he said, finally. For his father to say that\u2014to say anything\u2014meant he was impressed. Will approached the front door and ran his hand along the wood. \u201cWalnut,\u201d he said. \u201cNice straight grain.\u201d He reached to Chase for the keys. Will was always the one in the family to open any door.<\/p>\n Chase shook his head. \u201cAround back.\u201d<\/p>\n They gathered their suitcases, and squeezed through the narrow mess of branches and palm roots and fronds that flanked the house. \u201cYou really should cut this back,\u201d Will said, holding his suitcase over his head.<\/p>\n \u201cDuly noted,\u201d Chase said.<\/p>\n In the back was a swimming pool, and a small patio. \u201cOh this is magical,\u201d Miriam said. \u201cIt\u2019s like a jungle back here. I feel like I\u2019m Katherine Hepburn!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about,\u201d Will said.<\/p>\n \u201cDad sure is fun today,\u201d Chase said.<\/p>\n Miriam turned, spoke behind her hand: \u201cAs you know, your father will only watch Westerns. I have to bring him stacks of tapes from work at the library. Gary Cooper. Clint Eastwood.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe strong, silent type,\u201d he said, now crouched, examining the angle and spacing of the wood on the patio. \u201cNow those were real <\/em>men.\u201d He pulled a tiny level out from his shirt pocket, set it on top of one of the patio beams, and surveyed the results.<\/p>\n Miriam waddled to the door and peaked inside. \u201cThe stunt business must pay pretty darn good if you\u2019re able to afford a place like this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Mom. We can\u2019t get in that way either.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot through the door?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis way.\u201d Chase stepped around to a window beside the patio.<\/p>\n Will stood up. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with the door?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe doors are all stuck,\u201d Chase said. \u201cIt gets so hot here the wood swells up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot here,\u201d Will said. \u201cThis is dry<\/em> heat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t explain it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe can\u2019t explain it,\u201d Miriam said. \u201cTo the window, we go! What fun. What adventure.\u201d She looked uneasily at the narrow size of it.<\/p>\n \u201cWell don\u2019t you have a landlord you can call? I assume you\u2019re renting?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI talked to him today, but he\u2019s away,\u201d Chase said, unscrewing the screen over the window with his pocketknife. It was about three feet wide and four feet high, angling up into a laundry room adjacent to the kitchen.<\/p>\n \u201cThen call a handyman.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did that too. There\u2019s some issue with the union.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s California for you. I don\u2019t see how anything gets accomplished here.\u201d<\/p>\n Chase climbed through the window first, and his father passed him the luggage. The house was quiet. Will clambered through, and then he and Chase went to help Miriam. She tried once, then again, but couldn\u2019t swing her legs high enough. She was dripping with sweat and wheezing. They seized her shoulders, and finally got her up a few feet until her hips stuck against the sides. Will and Chase pulled as hard as they could, until she shot forward into the room as if from a circus cannon. She collapsed on the kitchen floor, struggling to catch her breath. She looked around. \u201cOh, this is wonderful! I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever been prouder. Isn\u2019t this wonderful, Will?\u201d<\/p>\n Will eyed a framed photo on the counter. A man\u2014not Chase\u2014and a woman, standing on a beach. Somehow, Chase must have missed it when he\u2019d gone through the house earlier in the day. He walked over and turned it around.<\/p>\n \u201cWho is that sweetie?\u201d Miriam asked. \u201cAre they friends of yours?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, it\u2019s nobody,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cIt can\u2019t be nobody,\u201d Will said. \u201cWho is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt came with the frame,\u201d Chase said. \u201cI just liked the look of it, so I left it in there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it certainly is a lovely photo,\u201d Miriam said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n That night, after getting his parents settled in the guest room, Chase was lying in bed, jonesing for a smoke, wondering if it was worth the trouble of climbing back through the window. The mattress was soft and held him like a hammock. If it had been his house, he would have maybe felt worse about taking the nicer room. But it wasn\u2019t, so he didn\u2019t. Besides, he hadn\u2019t slept on a decent mattress in months, living mostly out of his car which he\u2019d parked, with all his stuff inside, a few blocks away. The house belonged to Don and Janet Snideman, a fancy older couple he\u2019d met on a catering gig, who liked having him around; his Kentucky roots lent their dinner parties a folksy cred, and they let him crash on the couch from time to time.<\/p>\n Finally, he gave in. He snuck through the house, and found his father seated at the kitchen table, reading a book. \u201cPulled this off your shelf.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve been looking around?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m a guest in your home, aren\u2019t I?\u201d He angled the book cover so Chase could see it. Some kind of business textbook. \u201cI think it\u2019s great you\u2019re studying financial management.\u201d His cowboy hat cast a great shadow over the room.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not,\u201d Chase said. \u201cI mean, I\u2019m studying it on my own time. Not going to classes or anything.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven better,\u201d he said. \u201cAcademia\u2019s been highjacked by the intolerant left. It was bad enough when I was in school.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIn school? You only did one year at UK.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwo. Besides, they couldn\u2019t teach me anything I couldn\u2019t learn for myself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe ol\u2019 BA in Bootstraps. Actually, now that I think of it that one\u2019s BS<\/em>. Anyway, another great chat Pop. I\u2019m gonna grab a smoke.\u201d Chase headed for the window.<\/p>\n Will set the book down on the kitchen table. Chase did the kissing fingers and stuck his legs out. \u201cYour mother loves you more than anything in the world.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMake sure she doesn\u2019t find out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom knows I smoke.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not what I mean,\u201d Will said. He got up and walked toward the bedroom. Chase waited until he heard the door click, then slid out the vent and sucked on his cigarette with his feet in the swimming pool, staring at the moon.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chase woke up to sounds in the house. Shit. The Snidemans. He dressed quickly, packed his bag, and hurried across the house. When he peeked into the kitchen, he saw his father seated at the table. It wasn\u2019t even light out\u2014the sky a dull gray-pink.<\/p>\n \u201cMorning, sunshine!\u201d called Miriam. She was at the stove, grilling sausage links, and coffee was brewing. \u201cYour father and I are still on Kentucky time. Do you want some sausage? It\u2019s the only thing you had in there that isn\u2019t expired. Somebody needs to clean out their fridge and do a bit of grocery shopping.\u201d<\/p>\n He watched them move about the kitchen. Who were these people? He couldn\u2019t believe they were his parents. They certainly weren\u2019t people<\/em>. They were more like aliens pretending to be people based on a handful of old movies and a magazine ad for erectile dysfunction.<\/p>\n After breakfast Chase had them repack their bags before they set out for the day. \u201cThere\u2019s been a lot of break-ins lately. It\u2019d be safer with us.\u201d They took the bus up to Washington Blvd., and when the connecting bus to the beach didn\u2019t arrive, they spent the morning wandering around Culver City, walking with their luggage in and out of the shops.<\/p>\n They stopped for tea at a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. \u201cMy son\u2019s in the movies,\u201d Miriam told the barista. \u201cHave you seen Blood Bath 2: Son of Blood Bath<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMust have missed that one,\u201d she said, handing her their teas.<\/p>\n \u201cI generally can\u2019t watch action movies. All that violence. But this one\u2019s a joy.\u201d<\/p>\n Will gaped at the barista\u2019s tattooed arm as it briefly revealed itself from her sleeve, like a kind of rare eel sliding out from a rock. Miriam produced a copy of the DVD from her purse and offered it to her. \u201cOh no, I can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, I insist.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, it\u2019s more that I don\u2019t want<\/em> it.\u201d<\/p>\n Miriam winked at the barista and dropped the DVD into the tip jar. \u201cDon\u2019t worry, I\u2019ve got a whole shelf of them back at home. My little shrine. Above it says, Hollywood in Versailles<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou really<\/em> need to get rid of that,\u201d Chase said.<\/p>\n As they finished their teas, Chase suggested maybe they drink something a little harder. \u201cIt\u2019s eleven in the morning,\u201d Will said.<\/p>\n \u201cBut it\u2019s five o\u2019 clock somewhere!\u201d Miriam said.<\/p>\n They walked three blocks to a bar with cardboard where the glass of the door should have been. When they walked in, they were the only people there. The lights were on and none of the chairs had been taken down off the tables. There was a smell like mildew and puke and whatever chemicals they\u2019d used to mask the smell of mildew and puke. A bartender was cleaning the bar with a towel, and when he saw Chase he yelled, \u201cYou. Out.\u201d<\/p>\n Miriam stepped up to the bar. \u201cAre we too early?\u201d<\/p>\n The bartender pointed to Chase. \u201cI told you, you\u2019re not allowed to come back here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s he talking about?\u201d Will asked.<\/p>\n \u201cDrunk ass walked right through our front door last week. Glass everywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome on,\u201d said Chase. \u201cThis guy\u2019s crazy. He must think I\u2019m someone else.\u201d<\/p>\n They left the bar and tried for the bus to the beach once more. Will offered again to pay for a cab. \u201cNo way,\u201d Chase said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re my<\/em> guests.\u201d<\/p>\n They headed off down the block, lugging their suitcases. \u201cWhat\u2019s the plan?\u201d Will asked.<\/p>\n Chase didn\u2019t have an answer.<\/p>\n They took a break in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven, and his mother, in her large foam visor and beach wear, opened a towel on the blacktop, unfolded a wide metallic reflector, and began sunning herself. \u201cWho needs the beach,\u201d she said, stretching her legs. She\u2019d gained even more weight since he\u2019d last seen her. Her skin was swollen and there were new stretch marks and strange blue veins in her ankles and calves. Will crouched nearby, rolling a toothpick on his lip. Chase couldn\u2019t think of anywhere else to go.<\/p>\n Then Miriam shrieked, leapt out of her seat, and pointed off in the distance.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d Will asked.<\/p>\n She darted off. Will and Chase gathered up her beach gear and suitcase and went after her. They took her arms as she lost her balance. \u201cAre you OK?\u201d<\/p>\n She pointed at the large, gated entrance to Monument Studios, with its featureless concrete and high windowless walls. \u201cOh my!\u201d she said. \u201cIs that what I think it is?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA Soviet prison?\u201d Will said.<\/p>\n \u201cMovie studio,\u201d Chase said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s the difference?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the studio from your<\/em> movie!\u201d Miriam said.<\/p>\n Chase hadn\u2019t even made the connection. It\u2019d been so long since he\u2019d worked on that damn movie, and he\u2019d spent most of his time during it sneaking food from the on-set crafty.<\/p>\n Miriam pushed on to the gated entrance, Will and Chase followed. \u201cWe\u2019re with Chase Finley,\u201d Miriam said, and started on through.<\/p>\n The security guard jumped out of his booth and cut them off. \u201cMa\u2019am, I can\u2019t let you in there without clearance.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom, we should go.\u201d<\/p>\n Miriam put her arm around Chase. \u201cDo you know who this is?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo ma\u2019am, I don\u2019t. And if you don\u2019t step back, I\u2019m going to have you removed from the premises.\u201d<\/p>\n Will stepped forward, spat on the ground. \u201cAnd yet you looove<\/em> to preach inclusivity!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease excuse my father,\u201d Chase said. \u201cHe\u2019s in the throes of Fox News withdrawal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy son\u2019s a stuntman,\u201d Miriam said. \u201cHe was in the brawl scene in Blood Bath 2<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, you could be George Clooney, and if you don\u2019t have a badge or a drive on scheduled then you\u2019re not getting in. Guided tours start at the east gate entrance every hour.\u201d<\/p>\n They walked around to the east entrance. The tickets were thirty dollars each\u2014with an extra \u201cservice fee\u201d to store all the luggage they were hauling around\u2014but Miriam got out her Visa card. \u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d she said, \u201cthat\u2019s why God invented credit.\u201d<\/p>\n They were shown a mailroom, a few office buildings, and one empty sound stage, before the group was herded into an unused storeroom attached to the gift shop. There they sat in metal chairs and watched a thirty-minute video, which ended up being nothing but trailers for the studio\u2019s new releases.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry Mom,\u201d Chase said. \u201cI thought there\u2019d be more to this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI like<\/em> the trailers,\u201d she said. \u201cThey\u2019re like mini movies.\u201d<\/p>\n They walked over to a Carl\u2019s Jr. a few blocks from the studio and sat at a picnic table outside. Miriam began sobbing, wailing and waving her hands. Will put his arm around her and rubbed her back. A Carl\u2019s Jr. employee came out and told them the picnic table was for paying customers only, and they would have to buy something or leave.<\/p>\n Chase took his mother\u2019s hand. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong? Do you need your shot?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s so beautiful<\/em>,\u201d she said. \u201cThe trees, the people. The sun. Everything here is so beautiful. I\u2019ve never seen such a beautiful place in all my life.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n They stopped for lunch at a Chinese restaurant and, as they waited for their food, Chase excused himself and went to look for the bathroom.<\/p>\n In the hallway, he saw a dishwasher walk through a back door and he pushed through it into a cramped, broken-concrete yard surrounded by chain-link fence. He hopped the fence and started across the neighborhood; it felt good to walk. After three blocks, he lit a cigarette and moved into the center of the street, flicked it, and lit another. The walking and the sun and the nicotine gave him a satisfying, dizzying buzz.<\/p>\n Then he heard shouts from somewhere nearby, and walked to a dilapidated house, with boards covering the windows. He swung around the side, and into a narrow backyard, where a large blue tarp was hung between two trees. A half dozen men were standing around beneath it, drinking. In the center of them were two men fighting. Each time one or the other would land a punch the men surrounding would whoop and yell. Chase slipped into the back of the crowd to get a better look. A man standing near him passed him a red Solo cup, poured some tequila in it, and told him to drink. The tequila hit like a fire to the back of his throat; he felt its warmth all the way down into his stomach, and then held the cup out again. The man poured him another shot and slapped him on the back so hard it stung. The men in the center were on the ground in a ball of limbs and dust, throwing fists and elbows. Each was bleeding. \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d he asked the man next to him.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d the man said. \u201cThey just started beating on each other.\u201d<\/p>\n One of the men, the larger one, stood up, and began to kick the other in the ribs. Chase could hear the dead crack of them inside his stomach. The man on the ground was out cold, and the other man paraded around, pumping his fists, his mouth dripping blood onto his chest.<\/p>\n Then Chase rushed into the center. He swung a punch that connected with the man\u2019s chin and the man groaned wildly. He fired a ferocious right hook into Chase\u2019s face. Crack. Blood. Chase threw himself at the man, punched, and kicked. The man picked him up in the air, carried him over to a folding table and threw him down on it, snapping the table in two.<\/p>\n Chase came to on his back, surrounded by the faces of excited men. One of the men helped him up, and the man he\u2019d fought offered him another tequila shot. They cheered him on as he drank it and staggered out of the yard, back up the street, back to the restaurant.<\/p>\n He found his parents waiting on a bus bench with his food wrapped up. Chase sat between them. \u201cOh my god,\u201d Miriam said. \u201cWhat happened to your face?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d He removed the take-out container, snapped apart a pair of chopsticks, and began to pick at the leftovers.<\/p>\n \u201cSon, your face is bleeding. We need to call an ambulance.\u201d<\/p>\n Chase fed himself a few of the noodles.<\/p>\n His mother was right. This was a beautiful town.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" He watched them move about the kitchen. Who were these people? He couldn\u2019t believe they were his parents. They certainly weren\u2019t people. They were more like aliens pretending to be people based on a handful of old movies and a magazine ad for erectile dysfunction.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":17143,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-17107","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-david-byron-queen"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17107","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17107"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17107\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17151,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17107\/revisions\/17151"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/17143"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17107"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17107"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17107"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}