"Netflix wanted them to get photos with senior royals, and bosses aren't very pleased with them. "That image would have been very valuable," Angela told The Sun. I like my balls attached.Update for everyone who is confused about Meghan Markle and Prince Harry not being allowed to take photos of their daughter Lilibet meeting the Queen: Netflix is right there with you, apparently!Īccording to royal biographer Angela Levin, Netflix is "displeased" that the Sussexes were told "no chance" when it came to photographing Lili and her namesake. “I have no idea and I’m out of sisters, so I guess you’re out of luck.” “What is it about the Smith sisters that makes otherwise strong men lose their balls?”
Vaughn leaned his hip against the side of the booth and sized me up. Grinning, Judd sat down across from me then glanced at Vaughn. When he pulled away, his gaze flickered to Vaughn. When Judd appeared next to me, his expression was unreadable while kissing me softly. “Because it’s better than calling me dead man walking.” Just like Judd who acted like the world didn’t touch him, Vaughn faked his exterior to avoid showing anything to the world. He smiled easily enough, but it was a ruse. Whereas Judd hid a deep sorrow and iced heart behind his walls, I sensed Vaughn concealed a barely contained rage. He’s not sure what to do with you and you’re just gonna have to be patient while he figures shit out.” “Men like us aren’t used to pretty girls looking at them like you look at Judd. Always crying and bitching about something. “You can’t take it personally,” Vaughn added when I just stared at the restroom. Glancing at the restroom, I wanted to go back to before I said the words. Whatever you said or did, can’t be that big a deal compared to the shit mood he’s been in lately.”
This morning before his bitch fit, he looked alive again. “All I know is when Judd came back from Texas, he was all hollowed out. “What the fuck was that about?” Vaughn said, standing over me.ĭark blue eyes flicking to the restroom, Vaughn reached back and scratched at his shoulder. That night, in spite of my response to her, she sought to be whatever she felt I wanted her to be.
I am sure she creates genuine dramas, genuine chaos and whirlpools of feelings, but I feel that her share in it is a pose. She invents drama in which she always stars. She lacks the courage of her personality, which is sensual, heavy with experience.
The enormous ego, false, weak, posturing. Her beauty drowned me.īy the end of the evening I had extricated myself from her power. She is bizarre, fantastic, nervous, like someone in a high fever. Yet I knew long ago the phosphorescent color of her skin, her huntress profile, the evenness of her teeth. Years ago I tried to imagine a true beauty I created in my mind an image of just such a woman. Astartling white face, burning dark eyes, a face so alive I felt it would consume itself before my eyes. “As June walked toward me from the darkness of the garden into the light of the door, I saw for the first time the most beautiful woman on earth.
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