Welcome to My World had a picture of a man who looked more like a god than a human. His skin was as dark as coal and he wore a Tarzan-like outfit. His long dreadlocks were blowing perfectly in the wind as he stood in the sun on a cliff top by the sea.
"I'd look just like him if you put me in one of those toga things," said Rocky with a wry smile. "I just need to grow my hair longer."
"And a few muscles," said Molly.
"Hercules Stone Invites Us into His Malibu Villa," ran the words beside the star's glistening stomach.
For a moment, Molly felt a pang of regret. If she'd continued with her starry career in New York, she might have been beside the sea in California this week and on the cover of Welcome to My World. Her hypnotic talent could have taken her to the very top, but she'd given up her life of fame and wealth to come home and be with her friends and family. Now she was only special in an ordinary way, just like the checkout girl in front of her.
Molly took her change, breathed out happily, and on the way out of the shop tossed all her loose coins into the cardboard cap of the crazy woman who always sat there talking to herself, wrapped in a dirty sleeping bag.
"Thank you, my child," she said with a snaggly-toothed smile.
Molly didn't like people calling her their child, because she was nobody's childshe was an orphan. But she felt mean thinking this about the sad woman who slept in the supermarket doorway.
"That's all right," she said. "Happy New Yea . . . erm . . . Happy March."
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...