Gregory works for a film production company. They do weddings and events and any kind of general A/V contract work you could think of. Gregory likes to make his own copies of the tapes and share them. It's been going on so long now, that we've all moved past feeling bad about it. Besides, even if we did feel bad, it wouldn't stop us from watching them.

Of course the irony is that these tapes will almost never be watched, even by the people who are in them. So why do we care? Why do we get so obsessed? Yes, there's something exciting about the idea of trespassing in someone else's life. But really, if you to put a gun to my head, I would have to say that I'm addicted to the honesty. That honest moment when someone lets their guard down completely because they think no one is watching them. I don't think there's anything else like it.

By the time I show up at his apartment, Gregory already has the rig set up and Andrew has the pizza laid out on the floor. We've hit that level of comfort where we don't even really have to say hello anymore. We sit in our regular seats, and Gregory turns off the lights.

The screen fades in on a wedding scene. The church is packed. Slowly, members of the wedding party file in. There is not much artistry to this part. It's mainly long shots of the stage giving an overview of what's going on. The bridesmaids are wearing puke green bags that pass for dresses. The groomsmen look uncomfortable in front of so many people.

Here Comes the Bride starts up, and come she does. As she passes, Gregory turns the camera for a long shot of her ass. We laugh. "That shot will come out of the edit that goes to the families McCann and Murphy," Gregory says.

The crowd sits down, and the ceremony begins. It is a traditional Baptist wedding. Lots of words like "household" and "obey." The sound quality on the principals is very good.

"You didn't get that from a directional mic," I say.

"No," Gregory says, "Minister, bride, and groom are all wearing collar mics. We spray painted one so it wouldn't stand out on the wedding dress."

You can tell Gregory did the best he could with the camera work, but he is basically stuck in one place, zooming in and out. Still, it's not bad. He pulls in for a tight shot right at the I do's. You can tell these two are in love. They are right there in each other's eyes the whole time. No reassuring glances around the room. Right there.

Then, there's a rough cut to the reception, which is always the best part. Gregory can work the room; he's not rooted to the floor anymore. He ignores the people mugging for the camera and manages to get a bunch of great candids.

The dinner speeches are all nice but fairly standard. The best man remembers when the couple met. The father of the bride remembers how much the wedding cost. Gregory is liberal with the camera. He gets the people speaking mixed in with some good reaction shots. Sometimes it's hard to remember that these people aren't actors.

The high point comes with the father/daughter dance. Most of the time these things are torturous. The bride and her dad stumble and sway back and forth to some slow song for five minutes and then they cry. But these two can really dance. Frank Sinatra's version of As Time Goes By comes up and they glide across the floor all white dress and grace. Gregory is right there with them, circling and zooming. The scene is a work of art, and I hope it doesn't just end up rotting on someone's home movie shelf. The song finishes and the camera zooms in for a close-up of the bride's face. She mouths "I love you, daddy."

"I can't believe I got that fucking shot," Gregory says.

Neither can I. The screen goes blue, but we all sit there for a second letting it sink in. Gregory gets up and turns on the lights. "That was a bit more heartwarming than last week's little league parents," I say.

In unison, Gregory and Andrew yell, "Slide, you little shit! Slide!"

There is another tape, but we take a break to refill drinks and roll a jay. Gregory goes to take a piss and I take the opportunity to talk to Andrew.

"Listen," I say, "I wanted to ask you about something first before I brought it up with Gregory."

Andrew sits up straighter, "Sure."

"Well I was thinking about inviting Emily to movie night next week."

Andrew's face tries to squeeze in on itself. "I don't know if I would be... comfortable..."

"I know what you mean," I say, "I really do, but I think it might be fun. You've met her and... I mean... you liked her right?"

"Sure, but..."

"So what's the big deal? Why do we have to be all strange about this?"

"Well because..." Andrew stops himself and regroups. "I just always thought of this as... you know... a guys' night."

That's not what Andrew means, and we both know it.

"Look," I say, "the truth is, I like this girl a lot, and I feel like I'm keeping secrets from her, and I don't want to do that. I mean, I have to start letting her see my weird parts at some point, right?"

"I'm really going to have to think about this," Andrew says.

I know Andrew will go along with whatever Gregory decides. Asking him is just a formality. Or maybe a warm-up. "Ok," I say, "but don't talk about this with Gregory just yet. I'm waiting for a good time to bring it up." As if on cue, the bathroom door slams loudly and Gregory walks back into the room.

"Well don't all stop talking on my account," he says as we look up at him.

I take a long drink of my beer as Andrew studies his shoes.

"Let's put the other tape in," I say.

The next one is a straight dub job. Some guy is trying to get a lawyer for his custody case and submitted these tapes. The lawyer sent the tapes to Gregory to dub from digital video to VHS. "I've only actually watched the first few minutes of this one," Gregory says, "but it's... well you'll just see for yourself."

The scene fades in on a man sitting on the edge of his bed. He has a bright red cowboy shirt and a handlebar mustache.

"Kaitlin," he says, "I'm making this tape for you to try and stop some of the poison that your mother has been filling your mind with. This is poison against me and poison against the right way for a family to live."

He goes on and his eyes keep darting around the room like they're not paying attention to what he's saying. He reaches down out of the frame and comes back up with a bottle of Jack Daniels that is almost gone. "See," he says, "this is how much pain your mother has caused me. I have to drown myself in alcohol just to keep myself from feeling like the way that I was when..."

"Holy shit," Andrew says, "this guy is nuts."

Gregory puts on a trailer park accent. "I have to drown myself in alcohol to keep myself from feeling like I was when I was drowning myself in alcohol to keep myself from feeling like I was when I was..."

The man looks up at some sound that we can't hear. The screen shakes as he picks up the camera and begins to run through the house. Out the bedroom door and down a bright, white hallway. Down stairs with a wide banister. Through a door. A washer, a dryer, another door, a kitchen. There is a woman just coming in from the back door. She is dressed in sweats. Her hair is tied back loosely and strands are falling into her face.

"Damn it," she says. "Damn it, Ed, get that camera out of my face."

Ed says, "In the Bible it says to honor your husband. It does not say to run off to your mother's whenever you want."

"We've been through this, Ed," the woman says, looking at the ceiling. "You're scaring Kaitlin and you're scaring me."

"And you're scaring me," I say.

"And me," says Andrew.

"And me," says Gregory.

"Well if you're so scared," Ed says, "What are you doing back here?"

The woman points to a large bag and a bowl on the ground. "Someone has to feed the dogs, and I knew you'd forget about it."

"Please, stay together," Gregory says, "If for nothing else, do it for the dogs."

The woman turns to leave. Ed tries to chase after her, but he trips on something and falls. The camera shows door, then ceiling briefly, then floor.

"Goddammit," I say, "I knew the floor was a bad place to keep the Jack Daniels."

The camera cuts off and cuts back on, and we are back to Ed sitting on the edge of the bed. He says "Kaitlin, I've tried just about everything I can to make your mother see things my way, but she refuses to live like a biblical wife." The phrase "biblical wife" strikes us all funny. Ed reaches down next to the bed again, fishing for something.

"Oh well," I say, "Time to do some more sorrow drowning."

This time Ed comes up with a gun.

We stop laughing.

"Do I have your attention now?" he says.

He does.

Ed points the gun at his right temple.

"Why do I have to point a gun at my head to get your mother to listen to me?"

I want to do something, reach into the screen.

I forget that this tape was made at least three days ago.

"If we can't be the right kind of family, I don't know what else there is to do."

Ed closes his eyes.

He leans into it.

We lean towards him.

"But I can't do that to you," Ed says and puts the gun back on the ground. "I live only for you and I'm going to get you back. I'll be the best dad in the world to you."

The screen goes dark, and the silence stretches out.

"That fucking pussy," Gregory says, "Can't even do the world a favor and blow his brains out." He laughs, but it sounds too loud. The harder we try to think of something to say, the more uncomfortable it gets.

"Well," I say, finally, "I've got that early class in the morning."

"Can I get a ride?" Andrew says.

"Sure." Andrew and I help pick up a little, then we grab our shoes and head for the door.

"I guess we'll see you later Greg."

"See you later," Gregory says.

We try not to meet each other's eyes.

"Oh, by the way," Gregory says as we're walking out the door. He is not laughing anymore. "Go ahead and bring your fucking girlfriend next week, I'm sure she'll have a great time."

The door shuts behind us. It's a long walk out to the car, but Andrew and I aren't talking. He knows better than to get in the middle of this.

Everything that has just happened is bouncing around in my head, but I can't make sense of it. It's all so strange, I don't know what any of it should mean to me. Gregory's cold voice. Jack Daniels on the floor. A gun on the screen. Ed's shaking hand. As I'm unlocking the car, I decide that I have to talk to Gregory again before I leave. Or maybe I have to punch him in the face, I'm not sure. Andrew elects to wait in the car.

I don't bother knocking, I just walk on in. The lights are off in the apartment. Gregory is sitting on the couch; his back is to me. He has another movie playing. It takes me a second to figure out what it is.

He is watching us.

Judging from the angle, I would say that the camera had to be hidden somewhere high on his bookshelf. On the screen, Gregory, Andrew, and I are watching Ed run through his house. "Please, stay together," the Gregory on the screen says, "If for nothing else, do it for the dogs."

I know Gregory heard me come in. He knows he's caught, but it's not in him to go scrambling for the remote. He would rather sit in silence, daring me to say something. My outrage comes and leaves so fast that I barely notice.

I'm watching myself watching Ed. Ed pulls out his gun again and I see myself move closer to the edge of the couch. I see my eyes widen. I see my hands grip the cushion, white knuckled. I see the Gregory on the screen, but he isn't watching Ed, he's watching my reaction. I've never seen anyone look at me like that. Hungry and pleading at the same time.

I walk up behind Gregory where he is sitting on the couch. My mouth opens a few times, but nothing comes out. Gregory doesn't turn around or move. I can see his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. I reach out to touch him, but I stop short. My hand stays there, hovering a few inches away from his head, not quite touching his hair. It's not enough, but it's all I can do.