Chapter Nine

“THANK YOU BOTH FOR BEING SUCH GRACIOUS HOSTS,” Delphine says. Within seconds, she is whisked away for more makeup and a wardrobe change. Unfortunately, I am not taken backstage. Instead, I am marched right up to Mr. Davenport. Walt stands behind him with a worried look on his face.

“Goldie, Mr. Davenport thinks it’s best for everyone that you stick outside for the remainder of filming,” Walt says. Uh-oh. Mr. Davenport must have been so angry when Delphine left.

“What about Mom?”

“She can join the others.” Mr. Davenport points to the left side of the tank. Most of the extras have been sent home, leaving only Miss Dupart and the one other dancer. Mom walks over to them, and a makeup artist starts touching up her face.

Before I leave, I decide to try a different approach with Mr. Davenport.

“Mr. Davenport, do you prefer the butterfly stroke or do you like the front crawl?”

Mr. Davenport stares at me, looking extremely irritated by my question.

“What?” he says. He clutches his unlit cigar. I wonder if you can judge his mood by whether or not his cigar is lit.

“Butterfly stroke or front crawl? Ms. Lucerne said you were quite the swimmer back in Youngstown, Ohio,” I say. His face transforms. He doesn’t explode like a volcano. Instead he seems to disappear into his thoughts. Maybe he’s remembering his life back then. Being a little boy, jumping into the pool with Delphine by his side. But his pensive reaction doesn’t last very long. I do take note of what appears to be a softer side.

“Uh. Um. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He bristles.

“You better get going,” Walt says.

Oh well, I tried. I guess Hollywood can do that to a person—make them deny or forget their past.

There’s only one more scene to shoot at the club, and then the whole crew will move to the beach for an extravagant battle scene between the sea creatures and the mermaids. To be honest, I can’t really follow the plot of the movie. I understand Delphine is some type of reluctant Queen of the Mermaids and the sea monsters are out to get them. But like in every movie, the queen falls in love with one of the sea creatures. Hence the struggle. Will she protect her mermaid people, or will she follow her heart?

It’s the perfect popcorn-eating film to watch at the drive-in. I’ll be waiting in line to see the film five hundred million times. Maybe even more. Action. A love story. Costumes. And Delphine right in the center of it all.

I lean against the streetlamp and listen to the night. St. Pascal is settling in. A few couples stroll by holding hands. Families round up their children to head inside. I wave to a few of my friends. I wonder what Cheryl and Rob are doing. Did Cheryl take Rob up on his offer to meet at the Deep End? That seems like ages ago. I patrol around the back of the club. Everything seems pretty calm.

A familiar face appears from in between two cars. Scoops Malone!

“Hey, kid—I think you better come over quick. I thought I heard someone over there,” he says. “In fact, you should be thanking me. I’m practically doing your job.”

Scoops thumbs to the direction of a type of shed, off to the side of the club. “I’ve been tailing this guy because he was acting pretty suspicious, and now I’m positive he is up to no good. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw him trying to climb up on a tree to peek into the club through the roof. When I saw him do that, I knew he was trouble and came straightaway looking for you.”

“In there?” I say.

“That’s right. You think I’m bad? Well, he’s not even a reporter. He’s just a random crazed fan. You don’t want him to get inside the club. Do you?”

No way. I remember when the Tigers were out here. Fans practically ripped their clothes off. I don’t want something like that happening to Delphine.

“I’ll check it out,” I say.

“Good thinking,” Scoops says. “And if there’s a story to tell, I’ll make sure you’re the hero. How do you spell your name again, kid? Is it Goldie with an i or a y? I know how to spell Vance.”

I spell my name for Scoops, and then I cautiously tiptoe toward the shed. It’s hard to hear anything so I creep in closer. Scoops follows close behind. The door is slightly ajar. I look over to Scoops and give him a nod. I’m going in.

Using the element of surprise, I bust open the door, but there’s absolutely no one in there. I quickly search up and down and side to side, but it’s empty except for brooms and tools and a large tarp covering things. The normal items you would find in any old shed.

Wham!

Before I can scream Harry Belafonte, Scoops slams the door shut in my face. And that’s when I realize I’m locked in! He’s locked me in!

“Open this door!”

“Sorry, kid,” Scoops says. “I’ve got a job to do and you’re in my way.”

Scoops may be a conniving liar, but he’s no match for me. I pull out my flashlight and shine the beam inside the small shed.