Death of a Movie Star

Chapter sixteen

Micah woke up the next morning in a bad mood. He’d finished the first round of network interviews at two in the morning and had tried to catch a few hours of sleep. Thoughts of Cassandra Moreaux got in the way. Now he had to meet up with Brandi for a full day of interviews in Los Angeles and then catch a red-eye to Florida.

To make things worse, he also suspected that Lenora had a new scheme stewing in the cauldron. For her the cars had always been an afterthought—second fiddle to the real star of the show—and she didn’t trouble with them. But now, with a mountain of work still to be done on the rest of the museum, she had suddenly become interested, going so far as to personally book his flight to look at a car. It had to be a Lenora scheme. But was it an everyday pain-in-the-butt scheme, or was it a lock-the-doors-and-call-the-lawyer kind of scheme? In the end Micah decided to just get the trip over with as quickly as possible. The ranch would be virtually empty because the show had ended and the museum staff would be going home for the weekend. He’d hop over and hop right back. How much trouble could she get into in just two days?

He threw some clothes into a suitcase and headed out the door.

***

At six o’clock in the evening that same day, after the last of the StarBash cast and crew had left the ranch, after Micah had been conveniently ushered out of town, Lenora stood on the upper deck of the museum’s operations center. She wore a white lab coat and looked out over a dozen technicians who sat in two semicircular rows, facing away from her. They punched keyboards, studied computer monitors, and occasionally glanced up at the giant screen on the wall in front. The arrangement looked like a busy NASA control room. Lenora liked that. The Lenora Danmore Museum might not send anyone to Mars, but it most certainly had the power to open up other worlds for all who dared to step into her footprints.

“Listen up, people. It’s going to get busy, and you must stay in character at all times,” said Lenora. The technicians swiveled in their chairs and looked back at her. “And don’t be afraid of a few glitches. We call them hiccups…or brain freezes…or senior moments. It’s part of being human. If one of your cast members has a deviation, you are to follow low-level protocol. If that resolves the issue, send them to their next cue. If it doesn’t, send them to the shop and grab one of your backups. You are not to power down under any circumstances. This will be just a short test. If everyone does their job, you will be on your way home for the weekend in less than an hour.” Lenora’s team of wonks then swiveled back around and resumed their work.

The giant screen on the wall showed a live shot of the circular drive in front of the museum. A red carpet lined the walkway from the curb to the opened museum entryway doors. Limousines, luxury cars, and a smattering of requisite eco cars waited in line for the red carpet. These shiny vehicles carried a large variety of android cannon fodder—presented as nondescript, rich investors—because a grand opening with only one guest wouldn’t fool anyone. It also gave the crew a chance to warm up before the main event. Lenora carefully observed that warm-up now.

A limousine pulled up to the red carpet. Uniformed valets opened the car doors, and the fashionable occupants emerged, he in tails and she in a shimmering evening gown, their perfectly believable human images gently kissed by a thousand camera flashes as they walked an invigorating gauntlet of photographers. These guests then rendezvoused with the ubiquitous velvet-voiced, microphone-wielding, red-carpet MC. He’d been programmed for wit and charm, and to lob sycophantic questions about beauty and prestige to the VIP guests. This type of personal interaction carried inherent risk, but the scene required it. Besides, even the most human of humans looked plastic in these particular affairs, so Lenora felt confident that her plastic MC would be safe. She had put her best technician on it just the same. At the end of the carpet a small cadre of snappy servants stood at the ready with champagne, hors d’oeuvres, and a pleasant escort into the exhibit.

Lenora liked what she saw, but it really didn’t matter. Turning back wasn’t an option. The job had to be done that day.

When the black BMW pulled up to the curb, Lenora resisted the urge to rally the troops. In case anybody ever asked, they had to be able to say that it had been just another day at work.

Cassandra exited the car. She wore a little black dress with pearls and a skinny smile. She looked tense if not a little suspicious. Lenora had expected something along those lines.

“And here’s Cassandra Moreaux, one of Hollywood’s hottest actors right now, thanks to her impressive showing on StarBash,” said the MC, as Cass passed through the gallery of photographers. “Let’s see if she has time for a few words.” He pointed the microphone at his target, waited for her to enter the kill zone, and said, “Cassandra, are the rumors true that you and Brandi Bonacore are in negotiations to do a movie together?”

Cassandra studied the MC closely for a few seconds and then said, “What a beautiful voice you have. I don’t recall ever hearing it before. What’s your name?”

“Rallye Rollins, BBC London, and thank you very much. That’s a compliment I’ll cherish forever.”

Cassandra removed a phone from her black handbag, punched at the keys for a few seconds, and then looked up at Rallye. She had obviously searched his name. Clever. But not clever enough. Rallye Rollins had a website, social media presence, and an unflattering online DUI mugshot.

“Yes, that’s right.” said Cass. “Brandi and I are doing a movie together, and I’m super excited about it. We should have more information for you in a few weeks.”

Now tell me, Cassandra,” said the MC, “you have conquered the big screen, the little screen, and the stage. What other surprises do you have in store for your fans?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare answer that, darling. A lover must have some secrets, or what’s the fun in being a lover? Now, tell me, Mr. Rollins, exactly how many rows are there on an ear of corn?”

This ambush question caught Lenora off guard. She grabbed the handrail to steady herself and tried to bark out an order but was too late. The MC had already begun answering. And he did it perfectly.

He said, “I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmhand, my love. Now, if you’re looking for a man who knows how many diamonds are on a Rolex, then our future together looks very bright.”

“Yes, I see,” said Cassandra, with a smile. She then moved on down to the end of the red carpet to be escorted into the exhibit.

“That’s a wrap, everyone,” said Lenora. “You did a good job. Now go home and enjoy the rest of your weekend. Don’t even bother shutting down. I’ll take care of it for you.”

***

Cass walked through the museum doorway and felt like she had walked right back into her mother’s life. The exhibit displayed one of the sets from her mom’s last movie. Cass had watched the movie a thousand times and had come to associate it with her mother’s life in a thousand different ways. And now here it sat, in the real world, real enough to see and touch. The illusion had begun, and Cass wholeheartedly embraced it. She melted into her assigned seat—front row, center—and stared at the set.

The movie had been a breakout vehicle for her mom, a herald of better times to come. Against this backdrop of hope, Lenora’s crime looked all the more terrible, but today Cass didn’t care. She’d been transported back in time, and if the live portion of the exhibit had captured even a scintilla of the original magic, then Cass would soon be closer to her mom than she’d been since the day she had died.

Unlike the other exhibits Cass had seen, this one included traditional theater seating for about a hundred people. The setting for the scene depicted the dank and crowded storage basement under Zander McCreery’s theater on Forty-Second Street in Manhattan. It looked like a storage area for a theater that over the years had collected more than its fair share of props, costumes, and set pieces. This included long bulging wardrobe racks and costumed mannequins stage left, hanging chandeliers and several rows of modular staircases stage right, and a jail cell at center stage.

The houselights dimmed. Cass’s heart raced. And then she heard a voice that she loved. It belonged to her mother, as taken from the soundtrack of the movie. She played the role of Violet, and Cass listened as this part of the production played offstage.

Violet: Here I am, Mr. McCreery. You called for me?

McCreery: Who are you again?

Violet: Violet Baker, fourth understudy for Hazel.

McCreery: Understudy! I don’t need an understudy!

Violet: …and wardrobe assistant…

McCreery: That’s what I need. Take these costumes down to the basement.

Violet: Yes, Mr. McCreery.

The sound of a squeaky-wheeled costume rack echoed through the theater followed by the sound of a rattletrap elevator.

Violet then stepped onto the stage, and Cass’s emotions galloped completely out of control. She tried to tell herself that she only saw a shadow…a mirage…but her mom looked so real, so alive. She wore a casual outfit consisting of a red-and-yellow-striped fitted midriff top, red high-waisted shorts, red-and-yellow ankle-strap wedges, and a blonde ponytail. It looked very 1950s and very sexy—as her mother had done so well at that time. Cass took a long, slow breath and tried to settle herself enough to enjoy her mom’s performance.

A spotlight followed Violet as she pushed the costume rack over to the others at downstage left and mumbled dejectedly to herself. She said, “Understudy to Hazel-the-halfback. Might as well be understudy to a rock for all the good it will do me.”

She suddenly grabbed a tattered straw hat from a nearby rack, put it on catawampus, and said, “Hi! My name’s Hazel! I’m built like a tree stump and haven’t missed a day of work since the hay cart ran me over!”

The audience laughed. Cass laughed through her tears.

Violet tossed away the hat and started transferring costumes from rack to rack. A particular gold-sequined evening gown caught her fancy. She held it up to admire and noticed a nearby mannequin dressed in a man’s suit facing her direction. She showed him the dress and said, “What do you say, mister, can you see me in this? No? Well, that’s just too bad because maybe I can see me in it.” She quickly slipped on the gown over her clothes, pointed at the mannequin, and said, “And maybe I can see a whole lot more than this…if you care to know.”

Cass joyously mouthed every word of dialogue. Now it came time for her mom to sing a song, a song that Cass knew very well because she and her mom had sung it a thousand times. Violet sang to the mannequin:

I see the top of the playbill, and maybe it’s not so far

I see the lights on the marquee and the day you know you’re a star

Camera flashes and cover stories and getting spotted on the street

Long lines and sold-out shows for a hundred dollars a seat

And Mister, if it’s all the same

I can also see the day

When someone knows my name

Violet turned her attention back to the costume racks but soon heard a stirring. She looked up and saw that the mannequin had come to life. Violet became mesmerized. She slowly walked toward him. He sang:

Say there, pretty thing

Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?

Onstage, on-screen

Or maybe you’re just the checker at the grocery store

The man suddenly turned back into a mannequin. Violet looked disappointed. She gave him a knock on the shoulder, and he toppled over. She sang:

I can see fairy tales that never will be

Glass slippers and little red Martians

Pixie dust and wild hobgoblins

How come I can’t see the fairy tale inside of me?

Violet spied another mannequin nearby. This one was dressed like a cop and had a hand out as if directing traffic. Violet faced him and sang:

I see a private dressing room, and my name is on the door

I see the hills of Hollywood and midnight flights from shore to shore

Hopeful actors and clever playwrights and money makers gather ’round

They wait in line behind the faithful autograph hound

And copper, if it’s all the same

I can also see the day

When someone knows my name

This mannequin also came to life. Violet smiled. He sang:

Say there, pretty thing

You have a face that everyone knows

An actor, a singer

Or maybe you’re just the waitress at Delmonico’s

He turned back into a mannequin. Violet gave him a knock on the shoulder, and he toppled over. When she looked up, Violet saw another mannequin staring at her. Like the others, this one had come to life, but he didn’t look as welcoming. He wore a top hat, tails, and penetrating black eyes. Black sideburns and a dark brow framed a stern countenance. Violet kept her distance and sang:

I can see fairy tales that never will be

Glass slippers and little red Martians

Pixie dust and wild hobgoblins

How come I can’t see the fairy tale inside of me?

The dark-browed mannequin studied Violet for a second and then sang:

You say you can see

But you don’t know what you are

A hopeless wannabe

Who’s not even close to becoming a Broadway star

He held out his gloved hand. Violet hesitated, but only for a second. Then she walked up to him, put her hand into his, and they danced. They danced beautifully, perfectly, athletically—just as they had in the movie.

At that moment Cass wanted to jump out of her seat and rush the stage like an unhinged fan. She wanted to laugh hysterically and bounce in and out of their dance, tagging along step for step, up and down the staircases, over the fallen mannequins, in and out of the costume racks. She wanted to touch her mother, to smell her, to get scolded by her for such outrageous behavior. And at the end she wanted them all to fall into an exhausted heap and to laugh about how crazy it had been and about how they might just do it again the very next day.

Cass managed to stay in her seat, however, and the reward proved almost as satisfying as her fantasy. At the end of the dance, the dark man unfurled her mom and sent her pirouetting across the stage. She came to a dramatic stop. The music stopped. The two stared into each other’s eyes for a second, and then the dark man sang:

Everyone has a dream

You need something more

Come back and see me when your dream is worth dying for

Come back and see me when your dream is worth killing for

“No! Please! Please don’t go!” said Violet, as she rushed up to him. It was too late. The man had turned back into plastic. Violet knocked him on the shoulder, like the others, but he didn’t fall. Instead, his gloved hand fell open and revealed a black business card. Violet took the card and read it. Then she sang:

I can see fairy tales that never will be

Glass slippers and little red Martians

Pixie dust and wild hobgoblins

Maybe I can see the fairy tale inside of me

Violet looked once more at the business card and then rushed offstage. The music swelled to a final crescendo, the stage went black, and the audience broke into enthusiastic applause. Cass choked back the tears and joined them. At that moment she loved Lenora’s museum without reservation, like a child loves her mother.

***

When the Friday-night traffic to LAX pushed Micah over the edge, he put the car into self-drive mode and checked his messages. He thought about sending Cass a message, but then saw that she had sent him one earlier that evening. She said, “Where are you?”

He texted back, “On my way to Florida. What do you think about getting together when I get back? P.S. You can’t fool me. I know what you did. I went back and checked the film.”

Then Micah thought about it. It kind of sounded like Cass had expected him to be somewhere. He scrolled up, through the various messages, to see if he had missed something, and found five recent messages that had been deleted. That didn’t make any sense. First of all, he and Cass hadn’t talked at all in the last week outside of work. Secondly, he hadn’t deleted any messages.

Suddenly a very uneasy feeling washed over him, the kind of feeling that hit after he’d been ambushed by Lenora. He logged into the ranch’s security system and checked the live feeds from the various cameras. Up at the museum he saw a parking lot full of cars, uniformed valets, and a red carpet leading up to the museum entrance. And he saw Cass’s black BMW parked by the red carpet. He instantly understood what it meant: Lenora did have a scheme, and it included getting him out of town and getting Cass into the museum.

He quickly dialed Cass’s number, but it went straight to a recording. He left an urgent, hysterical message. He also pounded out a quick text that said, Don’t go into museum. Leave. Leave now! Then he jerked the car over to the emergency lane and stomped on the gas pedal.

***

Lenora, dressed in a glitter knit black evening gown, appeared from the wings down stage right. She welcomed the audience’s reception with a modest smile and then stepped up to the microphone. She said, “Wendy Rainy’s portrayal of Violet in Zombies on Broadway is a performance that should be remembered forever. And now it will be. We not only rescued it and restored it, but we have converted it back into the dynamic live performance that it was over sixty years ago. But the best part is that the world premiere of this reborn gem has been witnessed by Wendy Rainy’s very own daughter, who, as you all know, is an accomplished actor in her own right. Please welcome our special guest, Cassandra Moreaux.”

Cass rose from her seat, crossed over to the left, and stepped onto the stage. She and Lenora embraced. Lenora said, “Cassandra, what was it like to see this recreation of your mother’s live performance?”

“Take a look at my mascara, and you’ll have your answer,” said Cass.

The audience laughed, but their timing felt out of sync, like someone had pushed a laugh-track button a half beat too late. Cass ignored it. She also ignored a quiet voice from somewhere in her soul that cautioned not to get carried away by emotion and to remember the pain that Lenora had caused as well as the punishment that she deserved. But the tribute to her mom felt too wonderful, and Cass didn’t want to let it go. She wanted it to last forever and to be experienced by everyone. She said, “You have created a magical place, Lenora. And I hope I’m the first person to congratulate you and to say that you have my unwavering support and cooperation.”

“Wouldn’t it be great to see Cassandra perform with her mother?” said Lenora. The audience approved, and Lenora continued: “Well, I have a surprise for you. Visitors to this museum don’t just watch. They participate. In a special performance created for this wonderful occasion, Cassandra and her mother will demonstrate this unique participation for you right now. Cassandra will be the guest who’s been given this encoded card when she bought her ticket.” Lenora held up one of the cards on a lanyard that Cass had seen before. Lenora then placed the lanyard around Cass’s neck. She also offered to take Cass’s handbag for safekeeping. Cass hesitated because it seemed strange. Then she handed it over anyway.

“With this special card, the guest is now welcomed into all the exhibits,” said Lenora, “not just as an onlooker but also as a recognized member of the cast. Sit back and watch how fun and revolutionary this can be.”

Lenora escorted Cass upstage to the jail cell. Cass didn’t remember ever seeing a jail scene in any of her mother’s movies. She stepped into the cell anyway, and lighting embedded into the floor started flashing. Lizard-green fluorescent words said, “You have talent! Step inside and show the world!” Cass stared at those words. The last time she had seen them, she got knocked flat by one of Lenora’s android goons. The memory of that violent encounter rattled Cass’s brain. It woke her up. It sounded the alarm. Something was not right. She turned to leave. Lenora slammed the cell door in her face.

Cass looked at Lenora, who stood just inches away on the other side of the bars. The showbiz smile had vanished, and her eyes had become two piercing lasers, focused and deadly.

Cass shook the door. It didn’t budge. She said, “Unlock this door, Lenora. Right now.”

Lenora said, “Greatness does not just rise up from the ashes. I can tell you that from personal experience. It is constructed over a lifetime, painfully, block by block, cut from sweat and blood. And, if necessary, from the dead bodies of your enemies.”

Someone entered the stage. It was her mother, still dressed in the evening gown, but now she carried a black gun in her right hand. She stopped at center stage, just a few feet away, almost close enough to touch. She looked blankly at Cass. Cass looked at her.

“You will be performing with your mother, Cassandra,” said Lenora. “It’s a scene I wrote especially for you. It’s called ‘Mother Murders Daughter’ and I hope you carry the memory of it all the way to hell.”

Now Lenora’s twisted fantasy became clear, and it did more than just frighten Cass. It repulsed her, made her want to look away from the android creation, away from the depravity. But like a disobedient dog pulling on a leash, her eyes continued to pull toward the image of her mother, and Cass didn’t have the strength to resist. She looked. She looked at the face of an angel. She looked at the beautiful eyes of her one and only hero. But then she looked again at the gun, and the spell instantly shattered. In all her days, her mother had never come close to this kind of hatred. This imposter that now stood before Cass amounted to nothing but a sick killing machine, conceived and created by an evil mind.

Cass needed to think quickly. She said, “Lenora! Think about what you’re doing! Think about what it will do to your museum! There are a hundred witnesses!”

“I’m not worried about them,” said Lenora. “They have a really bad habit of dozing off at just the right time.”

A barely audible hum echoed through the theater. It lasted a few seconds, and then the heads of everyone in the audience slumped forward. And Cass’s heart slumped, too. She realized that the trap had been planned with meticulous Lenora Danmore precision.

“But then again,” said Lenora, “they really do like a good murder. I think I’ll let them stay up for this one.”

The audience instantly awoke and clapped like someone had just guessed the right answer on a fun game show.

Cass fought back the panic that clawed at her heart and mind. She pleaded, “You don’t have to do this, Lenora! You just heard me say that you have my complete support!”

“At a price I won’t pay! This is not the Wendy Rainy Museum!” screamed Lenora, with wide eyes and a jabbing finger. “It is not a last gasp for mediocrity! It is the Lenora Danmore Museum, and my lifetime of discipline and dedication and excellence is the only reason it’s even possible!”

Lenora had crossed over to psycho-land, and Cass didn’t want to go there. She changed direction. “You won’t get away with it, Lenora. I sent the file to my attorney. If anything happens to me, you will be exposed,” she said.

Lenora took a deep, palsied breath and said, “I doubt it. Besides, I can deal with attorneys. They settle for money. Self-righteous daughters want blood. Goodbye, Cassandra. You have no one to blame but yourself.” She stepped aside a few feet, looked at the android, and said, “You may begin, Wendy. Please take it from the top.”

“Yes, Miss Danmore,” said the android. Her face then instantly became animated. She raised the gun and pointed it at Cass. With a kindly smile, she said, “I’m so happy we get to share this moment together, Cassandra. Is there anything you’d like to say before I kill you?”

Lenora leaned forward and whispered to Cass, “Your dialogue is projected onto the wall…in case you want to go out like a true professional.”

Cass’s eyes darted up to the wall. She had three lines before the end of the scene. She turned her attention to the android and the gun. Cass moved to one side of the cell and then to the other. The gun followed her every move.

“Say the line, Cassandra, and say it like you mean it, or the scene will end, and you will die right now,” commanded Lenora.

Cass read the line, “Yes, Mother. I have a question. How did you get the part of Violet in Zombies on Broadway?”

Two lines to go. Cass clutched her arms to her body, as if in fear, and wrapped her fingers around the encoded card that hung from her neck.

“I took private acting lessons from the producer,” said the android.

Cass read the next line: “You took many private lessons, all over town, but you never got top billing, did you, Mother?”

Lenora laughed.

Now only one line remained before the end. Cass gave a quick, short tug on the card. It popped free from the lanyard.

“Top billing doesn’t belong to the weak, dear,” said the android.

Cass read her last line, “Is that why you gave up and killed yourself?”

“No, dear, that’s why I’m killing you,” said the android. She then pulled back the hammer and aimed the gun at Cass’s heart.

Cass tossed the card out of the cell. It hit Lenora’s leg and landed on the floor by her feet.

The android swiveled and pointed the gun at Lenora. Lenora stared at her creation with wide, unbelieving eyes. The android fired two rapid shots. Lenora clutched her chest, stumbled for a step, and collapsed to the floor. Her arms and legs twitched for a few seconds and then stopped. The android stepped over to the lifeless body, bent over it, and said, “Good job, Cassandra. Keep up the good work. And do not forget to pick up a copy of our scene from the gift store. I think you will like it.” Then her head slumped forward, and she powered down—as did the android audience.

Cass clutched the bars of the jail cell and slowly eased herself to the floor. She felt dizzy and lost. Her brain struggled to fathom how the unspeakable beauty she had witnessed just minutes earlier had instantly mutated into violence and death. Or maybe there had never been any beauty at all. Maybe her blind eye had foolishly believed what had never truly been seen. She tried to breathe, but her body refused to be governed. Confused, roiling emotions of the last forty-eight hours of her life, of hope, hatred, revenge, and forgiveness flooded her heart and soul. She lowered her head and cried.

After a few moments, Cass heard the sound of someone clapping, and then someone else, and someone else. She raised her head and, through the tears, saw the android audience on their feet applauding. Then, before Cass had time to understand what it meant, they fell in unison back into their seats and died to the world once again.

“You’re a clever girl, Cassandra. It’s too bad you didn’t put it to good use. You could have been somebody,” said a voice from across the theater.

Cass knew that voice. It had just been burned into her conscience and cued up for a lifetime of bad dreams. But it didn’t make sense. She looked at the dead body on the floor—the dead body that was supposed to belong to Lenora. And then she saw it. There was no blood. There was no blood… Cass slowly turned toward the speaker, as if stealth caution might make the evil disappear. She saw Lenora walking down the center aisle between the seats. She wore a white lab coat and a face of stone. She climbed the steps to the stage, strode directly to the sleeping android, and pulled the gun from her fingers. Cass pulled herself to her feet.

Lenora stepped over to the cell door, pointed the gun at Cass’s head, and said, “The year is 1951, and you have a choice between happiness and misery. What do you choose?”

Cass didn’t say anything.

“There are no road signs. There is confusion and fear. What do you choose?” said Lenora.

“I choose not to stab my friend in the back,” said Cass.

“Like you didn’t stab Brandi Bonacore in the back?”

“I did that out of ignorance. You betrayed my mother to further your career. You had a choice.”

“My name is Karolina Wojtkowiak! I am the immigrant daughter of a communist! I had no choice!” Lenora cocked the gun and continued: “When desperation wraps its fingers around your neck, everything changes. Look at you. An insignificant political storm rattled your cage, and look what you did. You call it ignorance. I call it a window to your soul, a dark and scary window, just like mine. The only difference is that I don’t go halfway. I finish what I start.”

Lenora steadied her aim. Cass huddled in the farthest corner of the cell, still just feet from the weapon. She closed her eyes. A loud pop echoed through the theater. Cass didn’t feel any pain. She opened her eyes and saw Lenora looking up at the wall where the dialogue had been projected. She stared at a live video of herself and Cass and the gun. The popping had not been the sound of gunfire but the crackling sound of an audio-video system being turned on. Someone had turned on a camera.

Lenora turned and looked out over the audience. All the androids still had their heads down…except for one in the front row. He smiled and stared alertly. Lenora walked to the edge of the stage and shot him in the head. He slumped forward, and the video disappeared from the wall. Lenora returned to the cell. Without a word, she pulled back the hammer and thrust the gun through the bars. Once again a loud pop rang out, and once again Lenora’s live image flashed onto the wall, just in time to catch an angry spasm course through her convulsed body, punctuated by a harrowing shriek of “I will not allow this!” A new android had raised his head.

Lenora stormed downstage, but this android sat several rows back and proved difficult to kill. She fired three times before the android slumped over and the video disappeared from the wall.

Just as Lenora turned and emerged from a cloud of gun smoke, Micah rushed from the wings. Cass let out a loud, uncontrolled gasp. Micah glued his eyes onto Lenora and slowly edged over to the cell, placing himself between Lenora and her victim.

Lenora walked toward Micah, gun at her side. She said, “Get out of here, Micah.”

“Everything has been recorded, Lenora,” said Micah, as he showed Lenora his phone. “All it takes is the push of a button and the world will see it.”

God bless Micah and his nerdy phone, thought Cass.

Lenora moved in close enough to make an easy shot and slowly raised the gun.

“You know I will do it, Lenora,” said Micah, with his finger on the button.

“And you know I will kill you,” said Lenora.

“Yes, I do. But will you destroy your legacy? Will you destroy Lenora Danmore, the movie queen who is supposed to live forever?”

The outstretched gun shook in Lenora’s hand. Her breathing sputtered. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she said, “She’s already dead. All that’s left now is revenge.” She cocked the gun and aimed. “Goodbye, Micah. We never really bonded anyway. I think you might have a personality defect.” Lenora pulled the trigger. And nothing happened except for a harmless click. She fired again with the same result, and then again.

Micah reached through the bars, pulled Cass close, and said, “Are you OK?”

“I’m OK,” said Cass.

“This is not over!” bellowed Lenora. “You are nothing but a backlot Barbie! Do you hear me? I’ve taken down giants ten times bigger than you!” She reared back and hurled the gun at them. It clanked off an iron bar and dropped to the floor. “I will destroy you, Cassandra Moreaux, just like I destroyed you mother!” She charged the Wendy Rainy look-alike, knocked it over, and stomped and kicked it.

Micah reached up to the top of the cell and flipped a lever. The cell door popped open. Cass looked at it and said, “Shit.”

“It’s a prop,” said Micah. “Let’s get out of here.” He wrapped an arm around Cass and guided her to a backstage emergency exit.

The world looked completely different when Cass walked through that door. It looked fresh and new. A cool evening breeze gently swirled in the trees. The stars shimmered in the embrace of a velvety black sky. A long line of footpath lights laid down a ribbon of golden gauze, like a fairy-tale path for hobbits or leprechauns. Cass wondered at a world where beauty and danger marched in such close quarters. She had seen them that very night, death and life, patrolling the same side of the street, thinly separated by good and bad intentions. Truth might be just around the corner. Or it might be deceit. Or was it even possible to know the difference? Just now she had been rescued by a man who was supposed to have been her enemy. She turned a corner, saw his face, and enemy turned into friend as danger inexplicably turned into beauty.

Cass stopped in her tracks. She didn’t have an answer for the kind of unmarked randomness that had just exploded in her face, but she had the next best thing. She needed to surround herself with as much goodness as possible. Everyone needed it because we might not be able to control what waits around the corner, but we sure as hell control who we’re with when we get there. She turned to Micah and said, “Micah Bailey, I have something to tell you.” Then she told him…with a kiss…about a thousand words’ worth.

“I like the way you talk,” said Micah.

“You should see me when I get really chatty.”

“I’d like that.”

“But I think we’ll start with the small talk…which reminds me, you’re supposed to be in Florida. How did you know?”

“It’s what I do,” said Micah. “I get paid to stay one step ahead.”

“Well, Micah Bailey, you’re good at what you do. But to tell the truth, your job sucks.”