“Of course,” she said, smiling. “I posted the picture of the two of you that I took on set the other day. You’ve got a thousand new followers.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. She pushed off the side of the pool to float on her back again, her curvy body backlit purple. “You should come in. It’s so warm from the sun, it’s almost a hot tub. It feels amazing.”
The breeze did feel delicious on my skin and the steamy water was tempting, but I was tired. “I’m sorry about earlier,” I said. “I was hungry and irritable.”
“No worries.” She lifted a leg, pointing her toes at the moon. “There’s wine in the fridge if you want a glass.”
I felt a twinge of guilt, then, for lying to her, when she’d been so good to me. But it was better this way. If I started telling the truth, I might not be able to stop.
Felicity
Thirteen Years Ago
I awake like rising from underwater to the sound of a siren. A dark-skinned man’s unshaven face is inches from mine, haloed by a bright light. I start and try to move away, but find I’m tied down. Panicked, I fight against the ties.
“She’s back,” the man says.
Back from where? Where am I?
His face is replaced by that of a smiling Hispanic lady with bright pink lipstick, her long hair slicked back in a bun. “Hi, sweetie,” she says, placing something on my index finger. She holds open my eyelids and shines a bright light in each of my eyes.
I feel whatever I’m lying on jostle beneath me and look past her to confirm I’m in an ambulance. Suddenly it all comes flooding back. Cole’s house, my mom—
“Where’s my mom?” I ask, alarmed.
“They’ll have all that information for you when we get to the hospital. You’ve just had a head injury. Right now I need you to concentrate on staying calm so you can heal, okay?”
Fear rises like bile in my throat. I push down the half memory of her unseeing eyes, her cool skin, hoping against hope it was a dream. “But my mom, she wasn’t doing well. She was hurt. We were taking her to the hospital.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She nods. “You’re on your way to the hospital. Do you know your name?”
“Phoenix Pendley.”
“What day is it?”
“Saturday.”
I’m only getting more confused. “Where’s Cole?” I ask.
“Is Cole your daddy?”
“No, my mom’s boyfriend. He was driving us.”
“You’re saying there was another person in the vehicle?”
“Yes! He was driving. Cole—” I know Iris told me not to say anything, but surely now it doesn’t matter. “Cole Power, the movie star.”
The woman raises her eyebrows. “Cole Power the movie star was driving the car.”
I nod vehemently. “Yes. He was taking my mom to the hospital. She was hurt.”
I pray that was all. That she’s at the hospital now, recovering.
The man leans in and whispers something to her. The lady nods, then turns her attention back to me. “We’re almost there. I’m gonna need you to rest till we arrive, give that brain a break. Can you do that for me?”
Seeing no other option, I lay my head back against the thinly padded stretcher.
When we get to the hospital, they wheel me into a curtained nook and hook me up to a bunch of machines that beep. The nurses and doctors ask me the same questions about my name, address, and the date over and over again, but no one will give me any information about my mom or Cole.
At some point I’m so tired that my worry can’t keep me awake anymore, and I finally fall asleep.
I awake to a nurse shaking my shoulder. “Some men are here that need to talk to you,” she says.
Two cops linger in the doorway behind her, both of them bald and bulky in their uniforms. They move to the foot of my bed as the nurse raises me up to sitting.
“Do you know where my mom is?” I ask them.
“I’m sorry. We don’t have that information,” the taller, thinner one says. My chest tightens, and tears spring to my eyes. “We need to get a statement from you about what happened last night. Are you up for it?”
I choke back a sob, picturing her bruised face. Then I picture her healing in a curtained hospital room like mine. She’s probably down the hall. “I want to know what happened to my mom.”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” he replies. “So why don’t you tell us what you remember?”
I take a deep breath and tell them the whole story, up until hiding in the back of my mom’s car while Cole drove her to the hospital. “That’s the last thing I remember,” I finish.
They’re quiet for a minute, looking at each other like they know something I don’t. “Did your mother have a problem with drugs?” the shorter one asks.
“She’s been clean for weeks,” I promise them.
“Okay,” the taller one says. “That’ll do it for today. Thank you.”
“Can someone please tell me where she is?” I beg.
They nod. “We’ll take care of it for you,” the shorter one says, and then they’re gone.
I never prayed much before, but this seems like the time to start. I hardly sleep at all that night, for praying so hard that she’s okay. It’s morning before anyone comes to talk to me. Not that there’s any windows or clocks where I am. I only know it’s morning because a nurse I haven’t seen before comes in with a tray of food and says, “Good morning.”
I’m eating my bland breakfast of oatmeal and melon off a mauve tray when another nurse comes in with a small blond lady. “This is Carol from social services,” the nurse says, then leaves.
Carol from social services pulls a chair up to my bed and sets her briefcase at her feet. “Hi, Phoenix. I’m Carol,” she says, even though the nurse literally just told me that. But she has kind eyes, so I don’t protest. “I understand you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
“I want to know what happened to my mother. Where is she?” I say, fighting tears.
She takes my hand and bows her head. “I’m so sorry. Your mother…She didn’t make it.”
The air goes out of me. The world goes dark. Carol holds me while I sob into my pillow. My mother’s gone. I knew it in my heart. I’d known since the car, but I’d held on to hope for a miracle until she said it. She pats my back as I cry so hard I can’t catch my breath, handing me tissue after tissue. “What happened?” I ask when I can finally speak.
“She overdosed,” Carol says. “Passed out while she was driving and wrecked the car into a tree in the Everglades, with you in the back.”
I hold a tissue beneath my still flooded eyes. “But she wasn’t driving. Cole was,” I protest. “She’d already overdosed, I think, and there was something wrong with her face. He was driving her to the hospital.”
She pats my hand. “Sweetie, your mom was behind the wheel when the car crashed. You were the only other passenger in the car.”
I shake my head. “No! No, she would never drive like that with me in the car!”
“They found you under the blankets in the back. Maybe she didn’t know you were there. Do you remember why you were hiding in the back?”
“Because Cole was driving and I didn’t want him to see me. Something bad happened to her at his house, and he was taking her to the hospital. I wanted to go with her.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice dripping with pity for me. “Cole Power never knew your mother. The police interviewed him this morning. He was with his wife and son at his home last night.”
My head is spinning. “But that’s not true,” I cry. “They were dating for months. He was leaving Stella for her. She saw him all the time.”
“Did you ever meet him?” she asks.
“No, but I saw him last night. I was at his house. His son was there. He saw me! Jackson. I talked to him.”
But she’s already shaking her head. “He was in his room watching a movie all night. He didn’t see you or your mother.”
“What about t
he text messages? Cole texted her all the time. It always made her laugh.”
“They’re looking for a phone, but they haven’t found one. It may have been thrown in the accident, or she could have left it anywhere. Drug addicts sometimes—”
“She wasn’t a drug addict!” I scream. “Stop talking about her like that. She was my mother!” And I’m sobbing again.
Carol tries to hold me while I cry, but I push her away. All these people think I’m making it up. They think I’m lying—or worse, crazy. But I know as clear as I know my name that my mother did not overdose and crash into a tree. Whatever happened to her happened before she ever got in that car. Cole and Stella are the ones who are lying, and I will do whatever it takes to find out what really happened.
Taylor
Monday, June 24
The house stood atop a grassy hill that tumbled down to the turquoise lagoon below, where the waves crashed steadily against the shore. All the arched windows and French doors were flung open to the morning sun, white curtains fluttering in the breeze. The view was distractingly beautiful—a far cry from the dusty, dark warehouse we’d been cooped up in all last week.
I was sitting at a colorful chipped tile table in the shade of an oak tree, eating a breakfast of juicy pineapple, strawberries, and coconut flakes while watching the crew set up for the day when Stella breezed in. She was early—a first—and she was without Felicity. Also a first.
“What a gorgeous day!” She swanned through the house without removing her sunglasses, landing next to my table as she took in the view of the iridescent bay. “I could live here,” she announced, to me, I guessed, as I was the only one there. “Perhaps it’ll be my second home.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” I agreed. The house was a sprawling ivory Spanish Colonial affair with a red tiled roof and numerous patios and porches with archways open to the ocean breeze. “This is where we’re shooting most everything from here on out.”
“Wonderful.” She looked back toward the crew, lighting the kitchen while “Three Little Birds” undulated from someone’s phone. “Where’s Cole?”
“Not here yet. Is Felicity with you?”
“I gave her the day off. Thought I’d do my own blocking to—oh, there he is!” She waved to Cole, skipping over extension cords spread across rolls of brown paper atop the terra-cotta floor to meet him as he strolled through the front door. Wary of her sudden change of heart, I craned my neck to watch her greet him. “Hello, darling!” She laid her hands on his biceps and leaned in to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek.
He didn’t rebuff her, but he didn’t return her enthusiasm either, giving her a quick dry peck without ripping his gaze from the game streaming from his phone. “Shit!” he said, still watching, striding past her to sit on the couch.
Stella hovered over his shoulder. “Who’s winning?”
He grunted, noncommittal.
Price appeared in the doorway, brandishing two sets of pages. “One for you”—he handed a script to Stella—“and one for you.” He held it out to Cole, who didn’t look up. “Cole.” Price snapped his fingers in front of Cole’s phone. This was why I adored Price. No fucks to give. If only I could live my life that way.
Cole looked up at him, perplexed that someone was actually interrupting his game. “What the fuck, man?” Cole grumbled.
“Wardrobe is this way.” Price pointed to the back of the house, where the bedrooms were. “Bring your sides. There are some changes I need to go over with you.”
Cole pocketed the phone and swiped his pages off the couch, annoyed. Stella scurried to keep up with him as he strode down the hall, out of my line of sight. Clearly something had happened between them; her attitude had done a complete 180 overnight. Where she’d been guarded around him before, she was flirtatious today. More than that, she wanted us all to see the change.
He, on the other hand, seemed to feel differently.
I groaned. Just when I thought things were getting easier, the damn actors had to go and muck it up. Par for the course. Here I’d been worried that people might make something of my innocent flirtation with Rick on the boat yesterday, while our divorced leads were shagging under our noses.
It would be one thing if they were both into it. That would be good, even—making for steamy love scenes and chemistry that leaped off the screen—and it only had to last five weeks. Even actors could usually sustain a flame that long. But if it blew up, we were all screwed.
The fact that Stella had “given Felicity the day off” worried me too. I had the distinct feeling that Felicity, despite my uneasiness about her intentions, was all that held Stella together.
“Where’s Felicity?” Jackson stood in the open doorway, shading his eyes from the sun.
“Not here. Apparently Stella gave her the day off,” I returned.
The poor thing looked downright dejected at the news. It was all I could do not to laugh. “But girls that pretty rarely have any talent, anyway,” I quipped.
He glared at me. “I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t—and it was before I’d seen—you didn’t say anything did you?”
“Say anything about what?” Stella appeared in the doorway behind him, fanning herself with the stapled sides in her hand.
“Nothing,” Jackson snapped. She recoiled. “Sorry. I––I meant it’s nothing to do with you,” he backpedaled.
Hiding my smile, I gathered my bowl and followed them into the house, where the crew was setting up the kitchen for a scene where Marguerite finds Peyton and the new nanny, Olivia, playing with the baby and grows jealous. Today was Madison’s first day as Olivia, and with the obvious real-life tension between Stella and Madison, I was anxious for it to go smoothly.
“I’m gonna need some time to study my lines,” Stella said to Jackson as he squeezed past an eight-foot scrim into the large square kitchen, where the crew was nearly finished lighting. A heavy iron chandelier hung from the high-beam ceiling over the wood-block center island, and a royal-blue backsplash complemented the white cabinets. Through the picture window above the farmhouse sink, the azure sea sparkled beyond palms rustling in the breeze. “I didn’t know we were doing this scene today,” Stella complained, sidestepping a light stand. “It was supposed to be my scene with the other nanny, when she tells me Olivia is coming.”
Brian looked up from the camera for just long enough to catch my gaze and smirk behind her back.
I cracked my knuckles, irritated. “It was in the email with the call sheet last night, and I left a message with Felicity just to make sure you were clear.”
“She didn’t tell me.” Stella crossed her arms. “I’m not ready.”
I wanted to smack her. “And what do you suggest we do then, Stella?” I smiled through my teeth.
Jackson was avoiding us, staring over Brian’s shoulder at the controls on the side of the camera as though they held the secrets of the universe.
“I don’t know.” She scowled. “That’s your job.”
“Okay, great.” I beamed like a crazy person. “Well, I’ve decided we’re doing that scene. So go get ready.”
“Jackson—” Stella protested.
It was at this point that Madison sailed into the kitchen, her phone outstretched before her. “Here’s everyone, getting all set up to shoot my first scene today,” she trilled into the screen. “Soooo exciting.”
We looked on in horror as she extended her arm to sweep our unsmiling faces with her camera, live streaming to a gazillion fans, no doubt. I couldn’t help myself; before I knew what I was doing, I’d grabbed the phone and hit stop on the record screen. “Taylor!” she cried. “That was—”
Still holding her phone, I threw up jazz hands. “Your adoring fans, I know.” By this point, everyone was staring at me like I was holding a bomb. “But this is a movie, not a TikTok or a Snapchat story.” I was vaguely aware that I was speaking to her like she was a not-bright child, but unable to stop myself. “If you want to shoot on set, you’ll need to
obtain written approval from production.” I pointed at myself. “That would be me. Capisce?” She blinked at me, a deer in headlights. “That goes for photos too.”
“Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes. “This is so stupid.”
I slammed her phone to the counter, blood rushing in my ears. “I know you’re desperate to be famous, but have a little common sense.”
“I am famous!” she cried. “I have more followers than anybody here except Cole.”
“For fuck’s sake, life isn’t all about likes and followers,” I snapped.
“Really?” She snorted. “Well, they’ll all do what I say, so if you want me to tell them to watch this movie, you should show me a little more respect.”
“If you want to keep your job, you should show me a little more respect,” I retorted.
“Yeah,” Stella piled on. “I really didn’t appreciate that picture you posted of me sleeping on the boat.”
“You should have,” Madison taunted. “It got over a hundred thousand likes, which is more than the number of followers you even have.”
Stella gasped.
“Enough!” I shouted. “No more posts of the set or anyone on it without their approval, Madison. Or you will be fired. Do you understand?”
She crossed her arms and jutted her chin out. “Fine. But it’s only gonna hurt you. You’ll see.”
“Okay, okay.” Jackson stepped between us. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, giving me a subtle look that said to stand down. “Madison, there are reasons we don’t want anything shared without approval, so please, don’t do it. And we will all”—he looked from her to me to Stella—“respect each other. Okay?”
It was all I could do not to strangle the bitch, but I swallowed the rage constricting my throat, clenching my fists.
I looked up to see Price standing in the entry to the kitchen, bewildered. “Now then, ladies.” I forced enthusiasm, clapping my hands. “Price will take you to wardrobe. You can run lines while you get ready.”
Wordlessly, Madison and Stella followed Price out of the kitchen, studiously avoiding looking at each other. Jackson peered at me from beneath a knitted brow. “You okay?”
The Siren Page 16