CHAPTER 24
Connor ran through the script a final time; then he stretched out on the backseat. He assumed the dread prospect of what awaited him at the end of this ridiculous journey would keep him awake, but the interrupted nights and hard work and emotional upheaval that had led up to this moment served as a balm. He was asleep in the space of three breaths.
He dreamed of walking along the Miramar shoreline with Sylvie. It was the same as their time together, only much richer. In his dream, they had been doing this for years, sharing hundreds of dawns. Thousands. He talked about himself and his latest acting gig. He shared from one heart; she received with the same heart. They were that bound together.
He was jerked from the dream by the sound of his phone buzzing. Connor fumbled and pushed himself upright, then dry scrubbed his face and struggled to fit his fractured world back together. The luxurious Rolls-Royce and the silent driver and the script on the velvet carpet all seemed tawdry.
The phone went silent. Connor poured himself a cup of coffee. The dream had seemed so real; the loss of connection to Sylvie left his chest hollow. He tried to tell himself that it was impossible to miss this woman, especially with everything he had waiting for him in LA. However, the dream’s impact would not be denied.
When the phone started buzzing again, Connor saw Gerald’s number, hit the connection, and complained, “You just woke me from the best sleep of the week.”
“Don’t you dare take that tone of voice. Kali has been running around here screaming at people. I hate when people scream. That woman has such a voice.”
“Tell me.”
“And the language. Between her and the director and that Peyton, I was blushing.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Connor stated.
“Oh, all right. This is actually more fun than Mardi Gras. But don’t tell anybody I said that.” Gerald released another of his trademark laughs. Ack-ack-ack-ack. “When I told Tony what you were wearing, his shriek broke windows in Burbank.”
Tony was the show’s director. Peyton and Kali both adored him. The behind-camera crew referred to him as Tony the Toad.
Gerald asked, “How far away are you?”
Connor leaned forward and passed on the question, then told Gerald, “The car’s GPS says thirty-two minutes.”
Gerald asked, “Some cable executive paraded through here half an hour ago. She claimed we are about to knock Days of Our Lives off its ratings perch. I thought Tony was going to have a hernia.”
“Sorry I missed that.”
“Well, at least you’ll be here for the main event.” Gerald played the stork a final time, and cut the connection.
Connor opened the central armrest and clipped the mic to the inside of his shirt’s lapel, ran the wire down next to his skin, then slipped the battery pack into his back pocket. There was also a fold-out cosmetic mirror, which revealed an uneven two-day growth the color of sunlight through honey. It turned Connor’s cheeks as cavernous as his eyes. His hair was tousled; and when sunlight glanced through the side window, he winced. Connor folded the mirror away and poured himself another cup of coffee. He decided his appearance fit the role perfectly.
* * *
Kali Lyndon’s father had been a nondescript gentleman who wore his pin-striped suits even at the family dinner table. He had lived in the shadows, shunned publicity, and never had anything bad to say about his only child. Kali’s mother died when she was seven, and she was raised by a variety of nannies. Her father’s empire continued to grow, even after he confessed he wasn’t sure why he felt a need to make more money than he would ever spend. They lived in a fine house in a nice area of St Louis. Her father moved in the circles of power when he was forced to, but he preferred to send his associates and remain the quiet, unassuming man he was. He died of heart failure when Kali was nineteen. At that point, his closely held empire of hotels and shopping centers was estimated to be worth over four billion dollars. He left everything to his beloved daughter.
Kali’s attendance at the board of directors’ annual meeting remained her only contact with the business her father had built.
So long as Connor played second lead to Kali’s star, they actually got on great. Connor found her funny and endearing. He ignored her temper tantrums with the same deaf ease he had shown to any number of stars on set. Kali had never met anyone like him. She claimed Connor was the first man who could handle her. Connor thought it might be at least partly true.
Kali Lyndon’s world revolved around playing the poor little rich girl. She was seen and photographed at every star-studded opening. She did the latest, wore the finest, was friends with the hippest. She shone for the cameras. But Kali had a problem. She needed to be fed her lines. So long as she was scripted, Kali was in her element.
Which was how her publicity machine came up with the idea for this wedding.
A fake reality show.
The cable network ate it up.
Kali’s estate fronted the coveted ninth green of the Bel-Air Country Club golf course. Her home was nestled in three and a half acres of meticulous gardens and fountains and four swimming pools. The mansion itself covered twenty-three thousand square feet and had four turrets. In addition, there were six garages, a poolhouse, two guest cabanas, and servants’ quarters. When asked why a single lady needed such a big place, Kali gave one of three stock answers. Because I can. Because it’s fun. Or her favorite, I like getting lost and discovering rooms I’ve never seen before.
The camera crew and tech support and Tony the Toad were clustered just outside the mansion’s main gates. Connor stowed the script away, slipped over to the side facing the cameras, and put on his game face.
Showtime.
EXT. GATES TO KALI’S ESTATE. DAY.
ESTABLISHING SHOT: The pale stone wall extends in both directions, topped by black steel spikes. The only entry is a pair of tall metal gates embossed with the initials, KL. The gates are closed. Two UNIFORMED GUARDS stand by the pillars.
The white Rolls-Royce bearing CONNOR LARKIN pulls up to the gates. Connor’s face is visible through the open rear window.
CONNOR
I’m here to see Kali. My name—
GUARD ONE
I know who you are.
Guard One pulls a phone from his pocket. His eyes never leave Connor as he speed-dials a number and speaks softly.
GUARD TWO
Being that stupid is a crime, right?
Guard One cuts the connection and uses a key to open the gates.
GUARD ONE
Some states it’s a felony.
The Rolls pulls slowly through the gates.
CLOSE-UP on Connor’s face. His expression says this is exactly the reception he deserves.
INT. KALI LYNDON’S OFFICE. DAY.
KALI LYNDON sits at her desk. She is dressed in pastel tights and a pale yellow off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. She looks beautiful, tragic, and utterly vulnerable. A tear rolls down one cheek.
Kali is writing, or at least trying to write. Before her rises a vast pile of engraved wedding acceptances.
CLOSE-UP handwritten on the card directly in front of Kali are the words GIFT: ANTIQUE SILVER SERVICE.
Kali’s hand holds a silver pen. She has written a few words on a sheet of her personal stationery, but now she is halted by sorrow.
KALI (VOICE-OVER)
Dear Clarissa, Thank you so much for the lovely gift, which unfortunately I must return because
Connor and I . . .
The voice stops where her hand has frozen.
CLOSE-UP as a tear falls onto the unfinished letter.
INT. ENTRANCE TO KALI’S OFFICE. DAY.
ERICA, Kali’s private secretary, knocks on the open door.
ERICA
He’s here.
Connor’s arrival was tracked by a platoon led by Tony the Toad. The cinematographer was on point, aiming his Steadicam at Connor’s face. The second cameraman was hidden behind the left-hand column, tracking the Rolls and showing what Connor saw, the house and the grounds and all the wealth he was walking away from.
Outside the camera’s view, everything was in frantic motion. Working on so-called reality television meant learning how to ignore the sound boom hovering overhead and tracking his every motion, the constantly shifting lights, the assistants handling the cables and running interference on Tony the Toad, who was busy hissing into his radio and waving his hands at everybody, especially Connor.
The Rolls pulled around the circular drive and halted by the bottom step. On cue, Kali’s latest assistant opened the massive front door and stepped onto the veranda. As Connor rose from the limo, the Steadicam operator shifted position so as to show . . .
A catering truck was parked between the main house and the garages built to look like French stables. Beyond them, a work crew was busy dismantling the wedding tent. At a hysterical cue from Tony, the entire catering staff froze in the process of loading bottles and glasses and silverware back into the truck. They all turned and glared at Connor.
From her position on the top step, Erica greeted Connor with a volcanic scowl. When he reached the top step, she wheeled about and led him through the manor’s open door.
The third camera guy and the assistant sound guy and their assistants were all on position just inside the portal. Connor stopped midway across the inlaid granite and marble floor, when his foot hit the piece of tape with his name on it. He gave Kali’s palace and the life he was throwing away a long, slow look. This allowed the two outside cameras and their teams to rush around the side of the house, fly through the kitchen door, and tiptoe into positions. At another bat-wing motion from Tony, Connor turned to the sweeping staircase and Erica’s burning gaze.
Erica’s smoldering walk along the upstairs hall was tracked by camera two. Connor followed at a slower pace, holding to the beat structure laid out in the script. His every step was duplicated by a change of camera angle. One step, a survey of the idyllic life he was tossing aside. Another step, back to the camera focused on his face, close-up on the expression of a man wracked by doubt and regret. Connor had no trouble showing those emotions. They were exactly what he was feeling—only not for the reasons the audience expected.
A final close-up on his face, building on the tension and the guilt and the uncertainty, and then Connor stepped past the assistant’s blistering glare and stepped through Kali’s office doorway.
The Steadicam operator nudged Connor’s ankle, and he shifted slightly to the left, allowing the guy to get a full-on shot of Kali almost falling apart. She made a huge effort, maintained a shred of control, and uttered her first line:
“Why, darling? Why?”