“Oh my God, is that Natalie?” Harmony gasped as we stood backstage at Radio City Music Hall. “Everyone on the A list is here! I can’t believe it!”
I looked at my brother and smiled. Harmony was a television star in her own right—this wasn’t her first time being around celebrities. But even a totally jaded person like myself had to be impressed by the sheer wattage at the Big Apple Awards rehearsals. And even more amazing, all the stars were dressed down in jeans and sweaters, chatting amiably as they waited their turn to rehearse presenting their awards.
Being here, I had to admit that I could understand why Stan had been so insane about the cast attending. It was fair to say they were the only up-and-comers in the crowd; everyone else was a bona fide star. Just being in this company would bring Deathstalker some serious attention.
But I also knew that Anya was seriously scared—and with good reason. She hadn’t gotten any more crazy texts since the day before, but that was plenty to have her good and rattled. Even though security at the awards was being tripled, Anya still felt like she had to attend to prevent Zolo from doing something terrible to Vance. He hated Vance; none of us doubted that he had the motive to do it. Even Stan had finally seemed to realize how serious this was and told her she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t feel comfortable with. After all, we had no idea what Zolo’s “big plans” at the awards were—they could be deadly. But Anya insisted: If she skipped the awards and anything happened to her leading man—in real life as well as on-screen—she could never live with herself.
Now, though, Anya was staring amazedly at the two-time Oscar-winning actress who was gushing to her and Vance. “What a beautiful couple you make! When I saw you on the cover of US Weekly, I thought to myself, there’s the next generation of movie stars. How wonderful that you found each other!”
I glanced at Buzz, who rolled his eyes. All afternoon, huge celebrities had been approaching Anya and Vance to offer their congratulations. Some of them acknowledged the rest of the cast, but not many.
Buzz turned to Harmony. “How long do you think this big romance will last?” he asked her. “A week? Two weeks?”
Harmony raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Come on. At least she’s happy,” she whispered.
“Yeah, for how long?” Buzz asked again, widening his eyes. “Seriously—how long has Vance’s longest romance lasted? A couple months?”
Harmony shrugged. “Something like that.”
“She’s survived so much on this shoot,” Buzz said. “I just hate to see her get hurt by Vance.”
They both looked over at the couple. Vance was cradling Anya’s head against his own, petting her like a puppy dog and every so often kissing her forehead.
Buzz made a face. “Ew,” he said. “And for the record, I think she’s gorgeous. But enough with the PDA already!”
“Okay, maybe it’s a little over the top,” Harmony agreed.
Buzz looked at her incredulously. “A little?” he asked. “He’s literally going to smother her with kisses. I’m worried.”
Harmony tilted her head. “Was he like that with Amy?” she asked. “I don’t remember.”
Buzz shook his head. “No way,” he said. “I’ve never seen Vance act that into anybody—except himself.”
Harmony giggled again. “Come on, Buzz, be nice. Maybe he’s a really sensitive person.”
Buzz shrugged. “Or maybe he’s playing for the cameras.”
Just then, an announcement called all the performers in “the Fabula number” to come backstage. Buzz jumped up.
“That’s me,” he said. “Wish me luck.”
In addition to convincing producers to let his cast present a major award, Stan had also gotten Buzz a role as a dancer in one of the show’s big production numbers. It didn’t hurt that Buzz and the pop star performing the song, Fabula, were friends from when he’d appeared in the Broadway musical based on her life. Even in rehearsal form, the number was super elaborate. It involved cables, acrobatics, and Fabula being raised onto the stage in a huge statue shaped like the Big Apple Award.
As the number finished up, Vance glanced at his watch and then planted a big kiss on Anya. “Excuse me, darling,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Nature calls.” He disappeared through an exit into the lobby, and Frank and I walked over to Anya.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Frank asked, looking concerned.
Anya looked up at him with steely determination. She looked like a different girl from the one who had wavered back and forth on whether she’d come to the awards. “I’m sure,” she said. “The theater security knows about the threat to Vance, right?”
I nodded. “Headquarters called them as soon as we told them about the text yesterday,” I said. “They’re turning the theater upside down searching for anything unusual. And you can bet no one’s getting in tomorrow night without a background check and some serious ID.”
Anya nodded. “Then I’m sure. His safety is worth this to me.”
Frank and I exchanged glances. “Okay,” I said finally.
Just then, a harried production assistant came running over. “Deathstalker cast, take your places, please!” she called. “Your award is next!”
Harmony, Buzz, and Anya—who were presenting the award with Vance—moved over to the edge of the stage.
“Places! Places!” called another production assistant, checking her clipboard. Suddenly she looked down and gasped. “Where are your shoes?” she demanded of Anya, glaring.
“So much for the celebrity treatment,” whispered Frank.
“My shoes?” asked Anya, looking sincerely confused.
“Your shoes,” the PA repeated, tapping her clipboard. “All female presenters are asked to bring the shoes they’ll be wearing to the ceremony to practice getting down the staircase.” She pointed to the stage, where a narrow, slick stairway led down to the podium. “Does that look easy?”
Anya was flustered. “I—no. I just didn’t know . . .” She turned around to look at Harmony, who, at some point before taking her place, had put on a pair of green spiky high heels. “You brought yours?” she asked, pouting at her friend.
Harmony shrugged apologetically. “Vivian made me,” she replied.
Suddenly a familiar voice cut through the crowd backstage. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” We turned around, and Stan’s assistant, Julie, ran forward, holding aloft a pair of sparkly red platform heels.
Relief washed over Anya’s face as Julie pressed them into her hands. “Sorry, I got tied up talking to the choreographer. Stan wanted to make sure you had these.”
“Thanks,” Anya said, beaming, as she slipped out of her sneakers and into the heels. “But wait! Where’s Vance?”
Harmony frowned. “I thought he went to the restroom.”
Anya nodded. “I know. But he isn’t back yet.”
The PA who’d asked about the shoes looked at her watch and frowned. “There’s no time. You guys will have to rehearse without him.”
Anya looked scared. I knew she was picturing all kinds of horrible things that might have befallen Vance. “But—”
I stepped forward. “Frank and I will look for him,” I promised. “We’ll find him and send him out there. Don’t worry.”
Anya was torn. But right after I spoke, an announcer intoned, “Here to present our Best New Action Movie Award, the up-and-coming stars of Deathstalker: Anya Archer, Vance Bain-bridge, Harmony Caldwell, and Buzz Byers!”
Harmony and Anya exchanged glances. Harmony reached out and quickly grabbed Anya’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go.” She stepped ahead of Anya, and Buzz followed. They walked out onstage and began to descend the staircase. Anya looked at Frank and me, and I gave her an encouraging nod.
“Go ahead,” I said. “We’ll find Vance.”
Anya gave me a nervous smile, but then nodded and walked onto the stage.
She turned toward the scant audience and gave them a million-watt smile, beautiful even in her jeans and T-shirt. Then she walked up to the first step—and her right foot slipped out from under her.
I was able to see Anya’s confident smile crumple into a look of shock and disbelief as she tumbled forward—and fell rapidly down the staircase!