Change of Scene: A 100 Page Novella

by Andrews, Mary Kay

  “I wish. No, he’s still in New York, meeting with investors. This is another kind of news. Savvi really likes you.”

  “Who’s Savvi?”

  “The director you worked with last week on the music video. Remember him? He called me first thing this morning to get your number.”

  Greer had almost forgotten about the video shoot. “Oh yeah. Him. CeeJay, he was a kid. Why are you trying to hook me up with a guy who’s not even old enough to shave?”

  CeeJay giggled. “It’s not that kind of hookup. Although, personally, I find him adorable. These Indian guys always look way younger than they are. Anyway, I’m working with him on another gig this week, at the San Diego Zoo. It’s a television commercial. His P.A. is still out of commission, and he wanted to know if you’d be interested in working for him again.”

  Greer rifled through the stack of bills. “I might be. When does it start?”

  “Right now. Look out your living room window. Throw some clothes in a suitcase and we’ll hit the road.”

  She frowned. “An overnight gig? I don’t know. I could definitely use the money, that’s for sure, but I just got Dearie moved into her new assisted living place yesterday. I’m not sure about blowing town before she’s really acclimated.”

  “What could go wrong? It’s only San Diego, you won’t even be three hours away. Like you said, she’s eighty-seven. Anyway, isn’t Lise around? Can’t she check up on Dearie?”

  “I guess,” Greer said reluctantly. “But she’s been acting kind of weird lately. She blew me off for dinner last night.”

  “Hmm. That is weird. Look, you can call Lise from the road. I’m double-parked out here. Get a move on, would you?”

  *

  She’d almost forgotten how much fun it was to work on a film shoot—especially where her P.A. responsibilities were strictly limited to what the director needed.

  Greer was happy to fetch and tote, take orders, even do secretarial work. She stayed so busy the first day of the shoot, there was no time to worry about Lise, or Dearie, or future job prospects.

  The commercial was for the California Lottery, and because they could only shoot when the zoo was closed, they couldn’t start setting up equipment until after 9 p.m.

  CeeJay’s hair and makeup room was set up in the park cafeteria, but Greer got only a glimpse of her as she tooled around the ninety-nine-acre park on a golf cart. By 5 a.m., when she piled into her friend’s MINI Cooper for the ride to their motel, she was barely able to stifle a yawn.

  “How’d your night go?” CeeJay asked.

  “Not bad. It’s pretty cool getting to work here after hours. I don’t think I’ve been to this zoo since I was a really little kid. Who knew peacocks screeched like maniacs all night long?”

  “Crazy! The first time I heard it, I thought somebody was killing a kid. I almost peed my pants. Did you ever get a chance to talk to your mom?”

  “We texted. She hasn’t been out to see Dearie yet, but she said she talked to her on the phone, and the only thing Dearie complained about was the food. Which is par for the course for my grandmother.”

  “So … no more weirdness?”

  “Hard to say when you’re just texting back and forth. Maybe I’m still just grossed out by this phone sex gig she’s got.”

  CeeJay’s head whipped in her direction. “Say what?”

  Greer sighed. “Yeah, I was too embarrassed to tell you. I found out Lise’s latest acting gig is as an ‘intimacy counselor,’ if you get my drift.”

  “O.M.G. How long has it been going on?”

  “She wouldn’t say. I only found out by accident. I overheard her talking dirty to one of her ‘dates.’”

  “That’s hilarious,” CeeJay exclaimed.

  Greer shot her a look. “You wouldn’t think so if it was your mother.”

  “I’m pretty sure my mother wouldn’t even know how to talk dirty. She’d still like me to believe that mine was a virgin birth.”

  “There ought to be a happy medium in there somewhere,” Greer said.

  “What made her decide to do phone sex?”

  Greer shrugged. “She wasn’t getting any work as an actress. You know what it’s like in this town for an actress Lise’s age. You’re either a crone or an ingenue. There really aren’t that many roles for women over fifty. Hell, over forty. And let’s face it, Lise’s not exactly a name commodity in Hollywood. She’s a has-been, but she doesn’t know it. The other thing is she says the money is amazing. She works at home, wears a headset, doesn’t even have to get dressed.”

  “Or undressed.”

  “You’re a riot, you know that?”

  “I’m sorry. I really admire your mom. And your grandmother. They’re strong, independent women. Single moms, they did whatever it took to put bread on the table, and without whining about their bad luck.”

  “Who said they never whined?” Greer put her head back and closed her eyes. “Is everybody’s family as weird and screwed up as mine?”

  “Weirder,” CeeJay said. “Did I ever tell you how my grandfather’s first wife died in some kind of flu epidemic, so he just waited a couple of months and remarried her younger sister?”

  Greer opened her eyes and studied her best friend’s profile. “You’re making that up.”

  “Honest to God,” CeeJay said. “It was like a big family secret for years. My father didn’t even know until his mother died that she was really his stepmother—and his aunt.”

  “Okay, that’s messed up,” Greer agreed. “But I actually do feel better, so thanks for that.”

  She hesitated. “I might have stumbled across some kind of family secret of my own yesterday, while I was moving Dearie into her new place.”

  “Oh. Spit it out. I love intrigue.”

  “It’s nothing drastic. Just a couple of old photos at the bottom of a box of framed pictures I’ve seen all my life. But I’d never seen these. One was an old photo of my parents, probably from the early eighties, from the looks of my father’s sideburns and ’stache. I’m guessing it was an engagement picture. The other picture was way older, maybe from the late forties or early fifties, of Dearie and a guy I think was her husband.”

  “You don’t know? You never saw a picture of your grandfather?”

  “Nope. They got a divorce when Lise was a baby, and he died in a car accident a couple of years later. I don’t even know his real name.”

  “It wasn’t Kehoe?”

  “That was Dearie’s maiden name. His name was Edward … and his last name was something Polish, and hard to pronounce. At least, that’s the story Dearie told me when I asked, which I didn’t do more than once or twice. She never wanted to talk about him.”

  “Then why keep his picture?”

  “And why keep an old picture of Lise and my dad—who neither Lise nor Dearie ever talk about? I’m pretty sure Dearie didn’t want me finding that picture. She wouldn’t even let me open the box when I took it out of her suitcase.”

  “You’re right, this is pretty strange.”

  “I’ll tell you something else crazy, but you gotta promise never to mention it to Lise.”

  “I swear,” CeeJay said quickly.

  “For years, Lise claimed her real father was Cary Grant. Did I ever tell you that?”

  CeeJay blushed. “You didn’t, but I think maybe I heard the rumor.”

  “I never believed it myself, which is why I never repeated it. I mean, come on. Cary Grant? I never had the nerve to ask Dearie about it.”

  “So, do you still think it’s bullshit?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Greer admitted. “There were a couple of baby pictures of Lise in that file folder. And she looked nothing like Dearie’s husband. He had really dark hair and olive skin, a beaky kind of nose. He looked sort of Italian to me. Lise has blue eyes and fair skin and light brown hair. She mostly looks like Dearie.”

  “Did you find any pictures of Cary Grant?”

  “No. But when I was a teenager�
�the first time Lise started dropping hints that her father was a famous actor, I was obsessed with him. I watched all his movies, collected photos of him. I bet I saw To Catch a Thief a hundred times over the years.”

  “That’s my favorite of his. That and Charade. That scene where Audrey Hepburn tries to seduce him. So adorable.” CeeJay sighed. “Magical.”

  “Agreed.”

  CeeJay glanced over at her best friend. “Mind if I ask you something personal, since we’re digging up old family secrets here?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How come you’re not all that curious about your own father? I mean, when was the last time you saw him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe when I was eight. Come to think of it, I think the last time I saw him was when he brought me to right here, to the zoo. The whole day was a disaster. He bought me a bunch of candy and crap, and we went on one of the rides, and I barfed all over the place. Lise was pissed when he brought me home. They had another big fight and that was it. He walked out on us when I was a kid, and basically, he never came back. End of story.”

  “That’s tough,” CeeJay said.

  “I was lucky,” Greer said, fighting back a yawn. “Who needs a dad when you’ve got a mom and grandmother like mine? They had more than enough balls to go around.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Greer was dead to the world. The air conditioner in their motel room hummed, and the blackout drapes left the room as cool and dark as a cave. And then she felt a magazine bounce off her forehead.

  “Cut it out,” she mumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “I’m trying to sleep, too. But your damn phone keeps ringing. Either answer it or put it on mute,” CeeJay griped.

  She sat up in bed and grabbed for her phone. It stopped ringing for a moment, then started up again. She didn’t recognize the number flashing across the caller ID screen, but it was an L.A. area code. Maybe it was somebody from Vista Haven?

  She tapped the Connect button.

  “Hello?”

  “Greer. It’s Sean.”

  “Sean?” She was still groggy.

  “Sean, your mother’s downstairs neighbor.”

  “Oh, right. Of course. Forgive me, Sean. I’m working down in San Diego and I didn’t get to bed until five a.m.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sorry to have to call like this.…”

  His serious tone made her shoulders tense. “Is everything okay there?”

  “Not so much. I hate to bother you, and Lise will kill me when she finds out I called you.…”

  She sat up in bed and clutched the phone tightly. “Sean, just spit it out. What’s happened? Did something happen to Dearie? Is my mom okay?”

  “Oh, geez. I’m no good at this. Luis says I get hysterical. There’s nothing wrong with Dearie. I mean, not that I know of. This is about Lise. I don’t want you to be upset, but I guess it is kind of upsetting. They’re saying it’s a second-degree burn, which I guess is not as bad as first, but better than third. I always get that confused. I don’t know all the medical lingo.…”

  “Sean! Just tell me what happened. Where is Lise? How did she get burned? Oh, my God. Was there a fire? Was she in a fire?”

  “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I’m babbling, I know. Okay. Calm. I’m calm. We took Lise to the emergency room for treatment and just got her home and tucked into bed. There was no fire. She was apparently cooking something this morning and burned her hand pretty badly. She decided to drive herself to one of those minute clinics at the drugstore. The thing is, as she was backing her car out, she totally crunched Luis’s car. We heard the noise and came running out.…”

  “Nobody else was hurt? She wasn’t hurt in the accident?”

  “No, it was just Lise. She said her neck hurt, but they’ve x-rayed it, and it’s fine. They gave her pain meds.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Greer heard herself slowly exhale. And then another thought occurred to her. “Was she drunk? Tell me the truth, Sean.”

  “No. We thought maybe she was, because she totally creamed the front end of our car, and she was so unsteady on her feet. I feel bad about thinking that.…”

  “If she wasn’t drunk, what’s going on with her? You don’t think she’s taking pills, right? Lise never liked a lot of medicine. Surgery yes, meds no.”

  “We were afraid it was something like that, too, so we kind of pulled the doctor aside and told him confidentially that Lise had, er, issues with alcohol in the past. So he asked her flat out, because by then he’d noticed during his examination all the bruises on her arms.”

  “And what did she say?” Greer scrunched herself into a tight ball, with her back against the upholstered headboard. Her heart was beating wildly.

  CeeJay sat up in bed, too, and she was staring intently at Greer.

  “This is awful,” Sean said with a hitch in his voice that gave Greer a chill. Something else was happening, something really bad beyond a burn.

  “What’s going on?” CeeJay mouthed the words softly. Greer shook her head.

  “I guess we shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but we were standing right outside the little curtained area where the doctor was, and we were worried about Lise. And we heard her tell him she’s not drunk, she’s got late-stage breast cancer.”

  “What?” Greer’s hands were shaking violently. “That can’t be. Why would she say something like that? She doesn’t have breast cancer. I’d know if she did.”

  “Breast cancer!” CeeJay whispered. “Lise?”

  “I think she was telling the truth,” Sean said, his voice catching. “She told the doctor she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer a few months ago and because of the stage it’s in, there’s no point in chemo or radiation. The bruises on her wrists were from all the shots and blood draws for tests.”

  Sean was babbling something about how sorry he was. Greer heard herself tell him that she’d be right over. No. No. No, this couldn’t be. Not Lise. Maybe she’d hit her head in the crash and confused the script of some recent audition with reality. It had to be something like that.

  “Sean!” Greer said loudly. “Where is Lise right now? Did they keep her at the hospital?”

  “N … no,” he stammered. “Like I told you, they discharged her. We brought her home. We didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I’m leaving San Diego right now,” Greer said, spun into action. She was already pulling on clothes, tossing things into her overnight bag. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  “Good. That’s good. Luis had to go to work, but I’m right here in the apartment with her. I’ll stay until you get here.”

  CeeJay was dressing, too. “I’ll drive you back,” she said.

  Greer didn’t bother to argue.

  *

  Three hours later, they pulled up to Villa Encantada. “Want me to go in with you?” CeeJay asked.

  “Thanks, but no. I’ll call you later.”

  Greer paused briefly to examine the rear end of Lise’s cherished Mercedes, which was parked on the street. Nellie-Belle was a black ’91 500E that had been a parting gift from a rich boyfriend. Lise would be heartbroken once she got a look at the damaged rear end.

  Sean met her in the courtyard garden.

  “How is she?” Greer asked.

  “Woozy.” He took a step back and surveyed her critically. Sean managed a high-end women’s boutique in the Grove, and freely shared his opinions about Greer’s lack of fashion sense.

  “Don’t say a word,” she warned, trying to untangle her unruly locks.

  Greer followed him up the stairs to her mother’s apartment. Sean paused outside the door. “I’d better let you go in by yourself. She’s not speaking to me or Luis, because we told her we know about the cancer and that we called and told you, too.”

  She let herself into the apartment and was surprised to find Lise stretched out on the sofa, with a heavily bandaged hand resting on top of a blanket.

  “Mom?”

  Lise turne
d her head and Greer gasped.

  Both her mother’s eyes were black and swollen, and her cheeks had red abrasions.

  “Oh, Lise.” Greer sank down on the floor beside the sofa. Her mother managed a half-hearted chuckle.

  “I’m guessing those two busybody queens didn’t tell you that the air bag in the Mercedes exploded in my face when I hit their prissy little Saab, right?”

  Greer reached out and lightly touched her mother’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not as much as this.” Lise lifted her hand in the air and grimaced. “It’s throbbing like crazy. Second degree, my ass. This is at least fourth degree. Maybe fifth.”

  Greer spotted two pill bottles on the coffee table, lying on top of a magnifying makeup mirror. She read the fine print on the label. “It says one tablet every four hours, or as needed for pain. Is it time?”

  “Maybe. I’ve lost track of time. Those things make me loopy.”

  “Take one anyway.” Greer shook a pill into the palm of her hand and held it out.

  With effort, Lise swung her legs onto the floor and managed to sit up. Her face beneath the bruises was pale and bereft of makeup, and her limp blond hair needed washing. She was dressed in a shapeless pink T-shirt and baggy turquoise hospital scrubs with a drawstring waist.

  “Put it in my mouth, and give me some water, will you? I just don’t have any energy. It’s the meds.”

  Greer did as she asked, all the while feeling like a mother bird feeding worms to her nestlings.

  Lise swallowed the pill and leaned back into the sofa cushions. “You don’t have to make a fuss,” she said. “It’s a burn, not a decapitation.” She held up her hand again, turning the white-mittened appendage this way and that, as though seeing it for the first time. “There goes my career as a concert pianist.”

  “Your face is all beat to hell, too, in case you didn’t know,” Greer volunteered. Of course she’d seen the mirror, and she knew her mother had already closely examined her own face as soon as she’d arrived home. Repeatedly.

  Lise managed a wan smile. “Good thing my acting career is all off camera these days, huh?”

  “Mom? We need to talk about this cancer thing. Why didn’t you tell me?”