Текст книги "Mama Sees Stars"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I rapped on the door of the production trailer.

Inside, I could hear Barbara on the phone, but I couldn’t make out the words in her rapid-fire Bostonese. Maybe she was reporting the latest brouhaha on the film set to some Hollywood gossip columnist. I could just imagine the headline:

Cursed Project Director Pummeled by Big Apple Bully.

I figured I’d better intervene before she painted my mama as the Hicksville Hussy who started it all. I banged harder on the side of the trailer.

“Come!’’

As I entered, she looked up, covered the receiver with one hand, and pointed to a chair in the corner. “Sit!’’

What’s next, Roll Over?

Barbara made nice on the phone, saying her goodbyes. It was strange to hear a pleasant tone coming out of her mouth, just like a normal person.

“Mmm-hmm, okay … I’ll be home in time for your father’s funeral, just as soon as the authorities release his body.’’ She reached out and gave a framed photo on her desk a tender stroke. “Give my darling granddaughter a big hug and a kiss.’’

So Barbara had not only been Norman’s wife, she was a mother and a grandmother. For some reason, that surprised me. I hadn’t known Satan’s female twin was capable of human reproduction.

Hanging up, she glared at me. “So, it’s Marsha—the hillbilly offspring; daughter of the town slut. Have you come to apologize for your mother?’’

“Not exactly,’’ I said. “And my name is Mace.’’ I didn’t bother reminding her about the hills.

“What can I do for you, Mace?’’ Barbara made a show of looking at her watch.

No time for a preamble: Good. I sat in a chair in front of her desk and summarized what I’d overheard between her and the assistant director. “It sounded to me like you were threatening him.’’

Her eyes went round, a caricature of innocence. “Me? I don’t make threats, dear.’’

“I know what I heard.’’

“Well then, you must have misunderstood. That can happen when you become involved in things that are none of your business.’’

“Anyone should make it their business to try to stop a crime, or to see that the person who already committed one is caught and punished.’’

She sneered. “Aren’t you the good citizen!’’

“How much do you want to keep Johnny Jaybird away from Toby?’’ I asked. “Enough to plant a loaded gun when you knew they might rehearse that scene? Enough to shoot Johnny yourself ?’’

“Everyone knew Toby had the scene, and he’d definitely rehearse it,’’ she said. “The schedule on a movie set isn’t a secret. As for me ever shooting someone? That’s patently ridiculous. I don’t know one end of a gun from the other.’’

Her tone and her face signaled the line of questioning was closed. She tapped her fingers on the desk, then looked at her watch again. I decided to take a shot at my other suspicion about Barbara. “I hope I’m not keeping you from making your regular phone call.’’

The tapping ceased.

“You know, the call you make to the media to get out information about all the trouble the movie is in.’’

She waited a beat before answering. I monitored her face, but couldn’t detect anything beyond annoyance.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.’’

“My friend and I saw you sitting in your Jaguar in the parking lot, talking on the phone. You made a threat that what you revealed could never be traced back to you.’’

Her expression remained impassive.

“Are you hoping negative publicity will help shut down this project?’’ I asked.

“Now, why would I want that? You must have heard someone else talking to a reporter.’’

“We were looking right at you,’’ I said. “My friend will also say he’s certain it was you.’’

“Ah, friends. One of you lies, and the other swears to it.’’ She shrugged. “Or, maybe you’re the one feeding information to the gossip sheets. And now you’re running around spreading malicious lies about me to deflect the blame. You didn’t happen to have a recording device with you, did you? Some actual evidence that would help prove this unfounded allegation against me?’’

My silence must have given Barbara the answer she was after.

“Didn’t think so.’’ She smirked. “If you want to play in the big girls’ sandbox, Marsha, you should be sure to bring along some big girl toys.’’

“It’s Mace,’’ I said.

“I know.’’

We stared at each other across the desk. The superiority on her face jangled my last nerve. “What do you think that grandbaby of yours would think about how you treat people?’’ I asked cruelly. “Would you like to hear her use the kind of hurtful word that you slung at Johnny Jaybird?’’

Her eyes flicked to the photo on her desk. I saw the chink in her armor.

“Is that your grandchild?’’ I gestured at the picture.

Nodding, she handed it to me. It captured a dark-haired child in a pink dress, standing in front of an imposing old church. A sweet smile dimpled her cheeks. Chubby, toddler arms stretched up toward an unseen photographer.

“That was taken at the Salem Witch Museum.’’

I restrained myself from asking Barbara if she was a visitor or an exhibit.

“The girl is adorable,’’ I said, looking at the picture.

Barbara’s arrogant smirk softened to a smile. “She is,’’ she agreed. “Her name is Taylor. She’s the best thing in my life.’’

The emotion that thickened her voice made me feel a little guilty. I handed back the photo. She gazed at it, pure love radiating from her face. With a sigh, she gently replaced it on her desk.

“Her mother was a difficult child. We were estranged for years. But when Taylor was born, my daughter came back into my life. Norman’s, too. He cared so much about our little granddaughter; he wanted to become a better man for her.’’ Her eyes got a distant look, and she touched the photo. “He took this picture.’’

She brought a knuckle to her eye. Ohmigod, was she going to cry?

“Taylor keeps asking why she can’t talk to Pop-Pop on the phone. She doesn’t understand that her grandfather Norman is gone.’’

Tears glistened. She took a shuddery breath. “I’m really not the bitch you think I am, Mace. Hell, that everyone thinks I am.’’ Making an O of her mouth, she touched the tips of her index fingers beneath her eyes, trying to stop the tears before they dissolved her mascara.

“Sorry,’’ she said. “These last few days have been pretty awful.’’

I fumbled through the pockets of my jeans for my cotton bandana, and handed it to her. She used it to blot. The scarf was probably covered with horse hair. I hoped she wasn’t allergic. A few moments ago, I would have relished the idea that she was.

“You cannot imagine how tired I am of being Barbara Sydney. When I was coming up in Hollywood, a woman had to be tough, and more so than a man in every way to succeed. More cruel. More cut-throat. More heartless.’’

She sighed. “I was good at pretending to be all those things, until finally I wasn’t pretending anymore. That’s who I became.’’

She blew her nose into my bandana. Luckily, I had another in the horse trailer.

“You’re a strong woman, too, Mace. I can tell.’’

She looked at me. I wasn’t sure what she wanted. Agreement? Commiseration? I simply nodded, choosing neither.

“It’s different for women your age, though. You don’t have to be hard to be strong.’’ She sniffled. “I’m so sick of being hard.’’

“Well then, change,’’ I said. “If you don’t like the way you are, become someone different.’’

“At this point, I don’t think I can.’’ She looked down at the desk, and her voice got soft. “That’s what scares me.’’

Now, her tears started to really flow. I sat there, squirming in my seat. A crying jag was the very last thing I expected when I set out to question Barbara. What was I supposed do now, pat her on the back and murmur, There, there?

The truth was, I did see a bit of this woman in myself. And I didn’t particularly like the resemblance. Barbara offered a cautionary tale of how needing to always be in charge can close you off to human feelings. I made a silent vow to work harder at showing Carlos how much I cared for him. As long as I was making promises, I also decided I’d try to be nicer to people in general.

There was no time like the present to start.

“There, there.’’ I reached across the desk and patted Barbara’s hand, taken aback when I didn’t detect either scales or a cloven hoof. “Everything is going to be okay.’’

_____

“You’re putting us on, Mace.’’ Maddie leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “Is this a practical joke?’’

“Hand to God.’’ I raised my right hand. “Barbara was blubbering like a baby.’’

My sisters, Mama, and I had gathered at base camp. We sat around a picnic table in the common grounds between the rows of work trailers and stars’ quarters. Marty and Maddie had come to the location again, in case I needed help.

If the afternoon sun got strong enough to dry out the soaked landscape, Paul might want the horses to shoot a scene so far delayed by the rain. There was still standing water on the ground, but the sky was trying to clear. While we waited, I caught them up on my encounter with Barbara in her trailer.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit,’’ Mama said. “I wouldn’t have believed that woman was capable of shedding tears.’’

“Humph,’’ Maddie said. “Maybe crocodile tears.’’

“Did you believe her, Mace?’’ Marty asked.

I hesitated. When I was sitting there across from her, I’d been a hundred-percent convinced she was emotionally wounded. Given time to replay the scene in my head, I wasn’t so sure.

“You know how a killdeer acts around its nest?’’

Mama and Maddie offered up matching blank looks. Marty, a student of animal behavior, like me, nodded. “Of course,’’ she said. “The wounded-wing routine.’’

“Right. The bird hops around, dragging a wing, to deflect attention from what she really wants to protect.’’

“So what’s Barbara protecting?’’ Maddie asked.

“Herself, that’s what. That woman has self-preservation written all over her.’’ Mama applied fresh lipstick and fluffed her hair. “Mace, did Barbara happen to mention me at all? I’m a little worried that after that crazy scene in the food tent, Paul might decide to cut my part.’’

Leave it to Mama to work the conversation back to her. I’d given them the condensed version of Barbara’s breakdown, knowing enough to leave out the names she’d called Mama. If I hadn’t, we’d be in the middle of a half-hour dissertation on how other women were always jealous, and how Mama never could help the way men responded to her.

“Your name never came up,’’ I told her.

Technically that was true. Barbara had only referred to her as a slut and a hillbilly.

As Mama recounted in detail for my sisters how Sal had defended her honor, my attention wandered. Birds splashed on the ground in puddles left by the rain. The wind was picking up again, rustling the cabbage palms and blowing more clouds our way. I looked over toward Jesse’s trailer. The blinds were drawn. I thought about Savannah standing there knocking at the door. Despite Jesse’s claim that Savannah was nuts, I liked her. And if she truly was in love with Jesse, I felt sorry for her.

Several birds had gathered again near the young star’s trailer. She’d probably scattered more bread on the ground. One particularly bold cattle egret stalked through the small flock with purpose. Its spindly legs propelled it past the other birds, as it snatched up crumbs with its sturdy yellow bill. It strutted closer and closer to the trailer, as the other birds hung back.

I almost laughed out loud, imagining the bird hopping up the steps to peck at Jesse’s door, demanding more bread. I elbowed Marty so she could watch the bold egret, too. Just then, the bird stepped even closer, and stretched its neck out to snatch a soggy chunk of bread in a puddle at the bottom of the trailer’s steps.

Electrical sparks spit and flashed. The cattle egret rocketed backward through the air. The acrid smell of burned feathers reached my nose. The bird was dead before it hit the ground.

Almost before I’d had a chance to process what happened, the door to Jesse’s trailer swung open. The pointy toe of her boot appeared on the threshold. Like jigsaw pieces, several images instantly combined and shifted through my mind: the long-beaked bird, the puddle, and a black electrical cable snaking through the water from under the star’s trailer.

“Don’t move, Jesse! Stay where you are,’’ I shouted. “Somebody’s trying to kill you.’’

“You saved my life, Mace.’’

Jesse’s face was pale. Her hands trembled. She kept looking over her shoulder at her trailer as a crew member examined the cable that had charged the puddle at the bottom of the steps. After the bird was electrocuted, the generator that provided power to the trailers in base camp was cut off.

“Actually, that cattle egret saved you. If I hadn’t seen the poor bird get fried, I’d never have known to warn you not to come down the steps.’’

“I’m just glad I listened.’’

“For a change,’’ Greg Tilton said. “You picked a pretty good time to start heeding sound advice, Jess.’’

She narrowed her eyes at him. But he was smiling, and his voice had a gentle, teasing note. It seemed to defuse her will to fight. She chuckled softly. “You got me there, Greg.’’

I noticed him scratch at an ugly red rash on his wrist. I should have felt bad about the poison ivy, but I didn’t.

Jesse glanced over her shoulder again. A second electrician had joined the first. He donned a pair of reading glasses and bent over at the waist to get a better look at the power cord by her trailer. She returned her attention to us.

“What you said is true, Greg. And there are a lot more things about me that could use changing, too. I guess a near-electrocution sparks thoughts about personal improvement.’’

Once I'd realized what had happened to the bird, all hell had broken loose. My sisters and Mama joined me in shouting to Jesse to stay in the trailer. Greg Tilton had come running when he heard the commotion. He quickly summed up the situation. While my sisters, Mama, and I fanned out to keep people from straying too close to the puddle, he raced off to find somebody on the electrical crew to cut the power.

“What the hell?’’ Barbara had stormed out of her office, yelling from the top step. “Everything went dark. Did some asshole forget fuel for the generators? Whoever it was, he’s fired.’’

I thought it was odd that even after Barbara learned why the power was off, she didn’t stick around to make sure Jesse was okay. She’d stomped away toward the parking lot. She was probably sitting in that Jaguar right now, phoning some reporter with details of the latest deadly development.

Jesse sat now on top of a picnic table, cupping a mug of hot tea to keep her hands from shaking. The rest of us surrounded her on benches and outdoor folding chairs.

My sister Marty had barely said a word. Finally, she asked Tilton: “Are electrical accidents common on movie sets?’’

“Nothing like this,’’ he said. “There are a lot of backup safety measures so people don’t get hurt.’’

Maddie said, “But Jesse could have been killed.’’

The young star’s hands trembled. She put her cup on the tabletop, liquid sloshing over the sides.

“Do you suppose it was intentional?’’ Mama asked.

Jesse glanced at the electricians, whose faces were etched with deep frowns. She looked at me, her eyes full of questions. I shrugged, unsure about the answers.

“Can you think of anybody who’d want to hurt you?’’ Maddie asked.

Jesse and Tilton exchanged grins. “Where should I start?’’ she said.

“I’ll get a box of pens and a carton of paper to make the list,’’ he added.

“Well, like who?’’ I pressed them.

They looked at each other again. Were the two stars closing Hollywood ranks against the outsiders?

Finally Jesse said, “I’d rather not speculate until we’re sure of what’s happened. It could have been just an innocent accident.’’

From my vantage point, I could see the two men at the star’s trailer. As one shook his head, the other snuck furtive looks at Jesse. When he saw me watching, he averted his eyes.

“Speculation or not,’’ I said, “it seems somebody’s targeting the stars of this movie: Toby in the parking lot; that sandwich Greg had; and now you, Jesse.’’

Mama gasped, “What if I’m next?’’

Maddie snorted. “I’d say Kelly Conover has more to worry about than you do.’’

“I just hope I’ll still get to do my scene,’’ Mama said.

“Putting aside my mama’s narcissism for a moment, what do y’all think?’’ I asked the two actors. “Will this shut down the movie?’’

“No way,’’ Jesse said.

Tilton agreed. “Not with just one day of filming left. There’s way too much money tied up in the project to shut it down now.’’ Grinning, he pointed at me. “You better stick around, though. No telling who you’ll have to rescue next.’’

Was he making fun of me? I searched his face for that trademark smirk. It wasn’t there.

“I’m serious,’’ he said. “You saved Jesse’s life.’’

She beamed at me. Tilton’s eyes were full of respect. Marty and Mama proudly clutched their hands to their chests. Even Maddie looked impressed. Outwardly, I cringed at the attention. Inwardly, it fed my savior complex. It felt good.

“I’m not surprised my sister saw the bird. She always sees things no one else does,’’ Maddie said. “It’s because she spends so much time alone, thinking instead of talking. Mace isn’t a people person.’’

I was actually thinking at that moment—thinking I’d like to change the subject before Maddie moved on to more personal details. I could just hear her telling them next about my sorry love life: not a “people’’ person, not a romantic person, and apparently not a “relationship’’ person.

“Honestly, it was nothing,’’ I said. “Anyone would have done the same thing.’’

“I’m not so sure about that,’’ Jesse said. “I owe you one, Mace.’’

Tilton scratched at his elbow, and then whispered in my ear. “I do, too. The other day, I acted like a complete jerk. Thanks for putting me on my ass. You knocked some sense into me.’’

Both my sisters had tensed up when he moved in close. I gave my palm a tiny lift, our barely perceptible sisters’ signal to stand down. I wasn’t sure how this change had come over Tilton, or even if it was a real change. Still, I wanted to play it out to see where it led.

Besides, if worst came to worst, I already knew I could whup him.

Watching him with Jesse, it was easy to forget how crude he’d been with me. He seemed now like an older brother: both teasing and caring.

He nodded at her cup, empty on the table. “You want another one, Jess?’’

When she hesitated, he said, “It’s no trouble. I promise I won’t tell everyone that you were like some junior diva, ordering me to run and fetch it.’’

“Takes one to know one, Greg.’’ She gave him a playful punch, and then handed over the mug. “Thanks, dude.’’

“No worries.’’ He smiled, showing acres of teeth. “Want to walk with me, Mace?’’

He couldn’t have missed Maddie shaking her head and Marty biting her lip. Mama said, “Mace, don’t you need to get to the corral to check on the horses?’’

His finger traced an X over his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I’m on my best behavior.’’

I wanted to talk to him alone. Before Mama and my sisters could lasso and hogtie me, I stood up. “I could use a cup of coffee.’’

My big sister got to her feet. “I’ll come with you, Mace.’’

“I’m fine.’’ I pointed toward the food tent, just across the grass. “You can see us from here. I’ll bring you back some of C’ndee’s tiramisu.’’

Marty tugged at our big sister’s sleeve. Maddie sat, either because Marty had curbed her protective instincts, or because I’d bribed her with the promise of sweets.

She narrowed her eyes at Tilton. “We’ll be right here,’’ Maddie said.

“You bet we will,’’ Mama added.

“Right here, watching,’’ Marty echoed.

_____

As we neared the tent, the rich scent of brewing coffee perfumed the air. Were those fresh-baked sugar cookies I smelled? Even though my mouth watered, I had some business to attend to first with Greg Tilton. He seemed to want to be my new BFF, as Mama would say. I decided to take advantage of our new “Best Friends Forever’’ status.

I touched his arm. “Hold up a minute, would you?’’

He stopped, head cocked at me in a question.

“You and Jesse got really quiet when we asked who might have fooled with that electric cord. Why was that?’’

“Like Jess said, guessing doesn’t really serve any purpose until we know what caused that bird to be shocked.’’

“It seems pretty clear,’’ I said. “The way that electrician with the reading glasses …’’

“Gaffer,’’ Tilton said. “That’s what we call the chief electrician on the set.’’

“Sorry, it seems clear from the way the gaffer reacted, there was something wrong with that cord, and somebody put it in the puddle.’’

“You can’t assume that, Mace. Cables and cords run everywhere on a movie set.’’

“Then you’re saying it wasn’t intentional.’’

“No. I’m saying we don’t know enough to theorize.’’ Glancing back toward the trailer, he lowered his voice. “I will tell you, Jesse’s made a lot of enemies for someone so young. She’s hurt people, and that’s all I want to say.’’

I thought of Savannah pounding on the young star’s door, face tight with anger and pain.

Suddenly, I heard Tilton chuckle beside me. “Something funny?’’ I asked.

“Not really, in light of what almost happened to Jesse. But I was just thinking of how much faster everything moves in Hollywood these days. In just a few years, she’s managed to make more mistakes—and enemies—than I made in decades.’’

“So who are your enemies, Greg?’’

He gave me a half-smile, so familiar from his movies. “I’m not worried about the enemies I can name. I’m worried about the ones I can’t.’’