“Is that camera ready?” says GL. “It better be, because I’ve only got one take in me.”
She’s propped up on a flowery couch. Her feet don’t reach the ground, but that’s okay; they won’t be in the shot. We’ve moved a couple of lamps for extra light.
“My left side, don’t forget. Get left profile and full face; no right side. Move the lamp more that way!”
I’m setting up the camera on its little collapsible tripod.
“Right beside you,” she says, “so I look at you, not the camera. More natural.”
We’re all in the living room of Little Mike’s house, up behind the parking lot. It feels empty. It turns out Mike has three kids, all grown and gone, and right now his wife is away visiting her own mom in a nursing home. Big Mike has been helped off to bed, and the night clerk is on at the motel. Little Mike has rustled up snacks for us and glasses of scotch for Al and GL. “This is wild,” he says, slowly shaking his head. “I think I knew Pop had a sister who went away a long time ago, but I’m not even sure how I knew. Whispers, I guess. The whole thing was out of bounds, especially around Grandpop and Baba.”
“I guess nobody mentioned the money I sent Mikey every month, as soon as I could afford it,” GL says drily.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” says Little Mike, “money was tight when I was a kid, but somehow there was a nest egg waiting to send me to university. The day I left, Pop said, ‘Don’t thank me, thank your aunt.’ So I asked who my aunt was, and he laughed and said, ‘She’s a movie star.’ He had your picture on the wall with a few other celebrity types that had come to the old place for the hunting and fishing. I didn’t take him seriously; I figured he was just being modest, sorta deflecting the praise from himself, you know? He’s that kind of guy.”
“He was a sweet boy.” GL nods. “I’m glad the money helped.”
“I owe you one,” Little Mike says, raising his glass. “A late thanks.”
“Cheers.”
“Gramma,” AmberLea cuts in, from a chair beside Al. “You were born in Topeka, Kansas!” Her chin has had time to reappear, but she’s scratching her ankle like mad. “And your family moved to—”
“I know, Washington State. Claptrap. Studio fairy tale.” GL waves her hand. “The PR department at Republic made that up to turn me into an all-American girl. Kansas was big that year. Thank The Wizard of Oz. They lied about my age too; made me four years younger.”
“But Mom—”
GL cuts her off. “Your mother doesn’t know anything about this. Nobody does, because I’ve never told anyone before. I’m doing this for you, AmberLea, and for David McLean.”
Grandpa. I look up from plugging in the adaptor. “And for Spencer.” GL nods at me. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened. I have to tell you about David too, if you’re going to understand.”
I can’t believe it—not just about Grandpa, but that she finally got my name right. “We’re ready to go,” I say.
“Good. Let’s do it. Quiet, everybody. Give me a finger count in.”
I raise my right hand, three fingers up. “Three… two…one…go.”
I press the button. GL starts her big scene.