Brian frowned. He probably wouldn’t have made the connection, if he weren’t stoned and thereby capable of some serious free association. His memory scratched up an image of a moon-faced Hollywood starlet in a massive string of pearls, wavy hair and a tutu-looking dress.

“What a minute… Mary Pickford. Oscar winner Mary Pickford from that black and white movie?”

Forehead wrinkled in true confusion.

“Dude, how old are you?” He thumped Theresa’s arm and gave her the weed, washing down the taste of it with his beer.