Episode 95: It Wasn't MeAs far as Bowie was concerned James Caan didnít know from misery. Was he sitting in Lilaís apartment drinking mud and watching some married old guy flirt with her? No. "Heís a super hard worker, I mean he sucked in school but heís actually super smart-"
"Thanks so much Lila," Bowie interrupted. He wondered if there wasnít some way that he could shrink inside the sofa and never come up for air.
"Mr. Gable knew what I meant Bo;" she smiled adoringly at the Irishman in pinstripes.
"Please Lila, call me Curran, youíve been so hospitable and I canít possibly let these formalities continue, Iíve never been a proponent of titles."
"I have to say I have always adored that name, I actually thought of calling Jesse that at one point," Lila shared, smiling too sweetly and Bowie let his eyes roll up till they could have crashed into the ceiling. It was one of those days, one of those lives actually it seemed.
"Are you the one who gave the boy his moniker then?" Curran asked Bowie. "An ode to Jesse James was it? I happen to be a huge proponent of westerns."
The younger man put his coffee cup on the table and spoke without looking at anyone or anything. "Jess isnít mine, not really, and as far as westerns go Iím not really a proponent, all that monosyllabic grunting, and those hats."
"I named him after that Cher song, you know, which I guess is kind of about the same guy, isnít it guys?" Lila asked, oblivious.