Siren Queen(72)
“It’s nothing, there’s nothing…” I started, and we might have gone on as we were except that Emmaline made a choked sound and ran.
I started to go after her, instinct or a derelict affection or both, but Jacko’s large hand clamped around my wrist, nearly jerking me off my feet as he held me in place. Tara’s protest was lost in my yelp, and I turned to look at him.
“No, stay,” he growled. “You’ve done enough, from the looks of it.”
He pushed me to one side like he would shove a prop hat rack out of his way, and he stalked after Emmaline. Tara looked between us for a moment, obviously torn, and I really couldn’t think of anything worse than giving ourselves away if Emmaline didn’t.
“I’m going to get some tea,” I announced somewhat nonsensically, and with a nod to show she understood, she trotted after Jacko.
I did go to get some tea, perched on a tall rickety chair with my toes hooked through the legs. I felt oddly calm as I waited, and I watched the crew move around me like tides pulled by a dozen moons.
Jacko came looking for me, and with relief, I saw that Tara wasn’t with him, but Harvey Rose was. A prickle of fear ran up my spine, quickly drowned in rage, and I gave them both a long and cold look. Jacko’s face was red with irritation, but Harvey Rose was as calm as stagnant water. I had never been this close to him before, but I still couldn’t see his eyes behind the green shades. It occurred to me that perhaps he didn’t have anything behind them, and it shook me less than I would have thought.
“Care to tell me what the beef is between you and Emmaline Sauvignon?” Jacko asked. “She don’t got a history of starting shit with her co-stars.”
“Neither do I,” I pointed out sullenly, and he looked as if he would have very much liked to slap me.
“What the hell did you do to her?”
I narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t very good at faking indignation. All I had was the truth.
“It’s personal,” I said mulishly. “We’re going to be fine on set.”
He looked at me angrily, and I could tell that he wanted to see if he could force me to talk. The answer was of course he could. Harvey Rose could have taken me to the old women who haunted the edge of the studios, their fingers long and bone-white, especially shocking if they happened to be dark-skinned. If you were held still enough, they could reach their fingers into your brain and hook out whatever a director wanted to see. Of course they couldn’t always put what they had stirred back to rights, and it wasn’t a risk any good director took lightly.
Jacko looked like he was considering it for a long moment, and I tensed to fight. Instead he shook his head with disgust and stabbed his forefinger twice against the center of my forehead, so hard it rocked me back a step.
“I told you,” he said. “I warned you, don’t pretend I didn’t. This is the last siren movie. Your contract is up in a month. Don’t fuck with me.”
He turned and stalked away, but Harvey Rose remained, watching me with those green-tinted shades.
“Mr. Wolfe has taken a personal interest in this picture, Miss Wei.” Harvey Rose’s voice was soft, and higher than you would expect. There was nothing in it besides a flat courtesy, but it made me flinch. “He has been watching you for some time, and so have I.”
He dropped something lightly in my lap, and as he followed Jacko, I picked it up to see that it was a crumpled matchbook. I tugged it open to show the runny ink that spelled out Pipeline and I started to shake.
My cheeks burned with humiliation and rage, because both were better than fear, and suddenly I was a child again, too small to fight a world that could do whatever it wanted with me. I closed my eyes and swallowed until the feeling of nausea passed, and then I stalked to wardrobe.
“Get this shit off of me,” I said, and Aguila blinked. There must have been something terrible in my eyes because she hesitated.
“The schedule says that we might get to your scenes tonight.”
“Get it off me, or I’ll take them off.”
My voice spiraled high to the edge of hysteria, and bless her, she didn’t pause. She and another girl that I didn’t know worked fast, stripping me to the skin and laying out the fishnet so that it would be something better than a tangled mess when I came back to it. If I came back to it.
My head was a pile of hay and Jacko and Harvey Rose had thrown a match on it. I blazed so fiercely that no one questioned me as I made my way back to the parking lot. That, or perhaps they had heard about Jacko’s blowup and they didn’t want to be standing too close in case he needed someone more expendable to bear his anger.
I sat in the Bentley for several long moments. I could smell cold cream on my face, scraps of it on my clothes as well as the peculiar dusty smell of a sound stage and the scent of rubber that flavored everything when I was shooting the siren.
The fire in me faltered briefly. I experimented with the thought of going back and making Aguila haul my costume over my head again. Jacko would probably never know that I was gone, not when he was dealing with whatever Emmaline had to say, holed up in her star’s dressing room. The moment the thought occurred, I thought I was going to throw up, and a hysterical laugh nearly escaped my lips. At least if I said that I was sick, it would be the truth.
I started the Bentley, and I could tell from its uncertain growl that it was becoming more restive. It didn’t know where Harry was, and I couldn’t explain that Harry was gone. He wasn’t coming back for it.