by Mara Webb
“I’d say every second with you ages me considerably.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Darling, I missed that biting wit of yours. Say, where did you get the bright yellow ducky umbrella?”
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I even told you,” I began. “There’s this guy—”
“Frankie!” Mom cheered as she ran back to the cab. “We’ve been apart too long! You need to finish telling me about your woodworking hobby!”
I climbed into the back of the cab and groaned. This was going to be a long day.
3
Shortly after we arrived at Moon Drop Studios, a collection of dusty looking warehouses set on an edge of town that I had not yet visited. Although things looked a little rundown there was a surprising amount of bustle surrounding the studios and the lots within. It was like a miniature, less-impressive Hollywood.
Mom and I walked up to the gate, where a guard was operating a barrier from a booth. He was a heavyset gentleman with a newspaper in one hand and a donut in the other. “Yes?” he growled as he saw us approach. The guard didn’t even look away from his paper.
“Lorelai Moon, darling! I have a meeting with Tyson Bryce!” mom said with dramatic flourish.
The guard looked over a list on his clipboard and shook his head. “You’re not on here. Bye.”
A look of incredulity came over mom. “I beg your pardon! I most certainly am on there. Check again!”
“No. Good day,” he said without even bothering to look at the clipboard again.
Her lips pursed tight and I saw a vein in her head start to throb. She somehow buried the rage and summoned her best smile. “Oh, that little gnome is so funny, isn’t he?!” she said, leaning into the booth to regard the comic the guard was reading in the paper.
The guard lowered the paper, took a bite out of his donut and glared at the two of us. “Do I need to call security?”
Mom rolled her eyes and pulled me away. “Some people have no manners!” We retreated back down the sidewalk until we were out of earshot of the guard, standing under my bright yellow umbrella while a light shower came down. Mom pulled out her pocket mirror, checked herself and made a few minor tweaks to her hair. “It’s no use Chelsea, that guard is a stubborn little troll. We’re not getting in.”
“I thought you said your friend invited you here. Why aren’t you on the list?”
“Well he didn’t tell me not to come, and that’s more or less the same thing as an invitation, right?” she laughed nervously.
“Mom, does this guy even know you’re here?”
“Yes! We spoke on the phone. He told me I should definitely come down and check things out. He said he’d put me on the list! He must have forgot.” She tutted and shook her head. “Tyson is always like that! Only cares about himself!”
“Just give him a call and then we can get inside,” I said.
“No darling, I want to surprise him now. Clearly he thinks I’m not worth the effort! We’ll just use a bit of magic to get us in. Do you want to do the honors?” She looked at me in expectation, but I could only blink back at her.
“Mom, I’m still learning magic, I’ve barely covered the basics!”
“What?! You’ve been a witch for months now darling! You should have covered more than the basics! Has your familiar taught you nothing?!”
“Artemis is his own brand of helpful. He’s got a lot going on. You know he started writing a musical?”
“Here,” she said, taking a ring off her finger and sliding it onto mine. “I officially declare this to be yours. I don’t need it anymore; I should have given it to you a long time ago!”
The ring seemed to hum as it slipped onto my finger, and a brief shower of sparks spiraled up my hand and along my arm. A brassy gold band and a crudely cut ruby made up the ring. It was kind of ugly really.
“It’s uh… beautiful,” I lied. “Thanks.”
“Don’t lie Chelsea, it’s not becoming. The ring is hideous, it belonged to your Granny Sponks. It’s useful though. She used this ring like a recipe book, storing all her knowledge inside. She gave it to me when I became a witch, and now I’m giving it to you. If you have a magical question, then rub your thumb on the stone and the answer will come to you. Be warned… she doesn’t always get it right!”
“Comforting,” I said. “So what do I do?”
“We want to get in the studio, don’t we?” she prompted. “Come on girl, I can’t give you all the clues!”
I rubbed my thumb over the stone and pondered the question. How do we get inside?
All of a sudden, the figure of a small angry woman appeared on the sidewalk. She was translucent like a ghost, and bright red, the same color of the stone on the ugly ring. Granny Sponks took one look at me and scowled.
“You must be Lorelai’s crotch goblin! What a delight!” she snapped.
“Uh… hi granny. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Cram it Chelsea, what’s the problem?!”
“We need to get inside this studio.”
The red specter of Granny Sponks considered the tall iron fence next to us and pursed her lips. “Is there a guard?”
“He won’t let us in.”
“You tried smashing up his car?”
“I’d prefer something slightly more legal.”
The old woman blew out air in a frustrated way and mumbled to herself. “This generation. Pansies, the lot of ya! But suit yourself. I see three options. Charm him, put a hole in the fence or make yourselves invisible.”
“All of those options sound a bit beyond my capability.”
“Ha!” she said, throwing back her head. “You’re on the Granny Sponks train now sugar snap. Take five minutes of invisibility and tell your mother to stand up straight! Just say the words: stinky zebra.”
The image of Granny Sponks disappeared in a fizzle of violent red electricity. I blinked and focused on the sidewalk and mom again.
“Delightful, isn’t she?” mom said.
“She told you to stand up straight and stop slouching,” I said.
Mom, suddenly looking more self-conscious, straightened up slightly. “I wasn’t slouching! Anyway, what did she say?”
“She can give us five minutes of invisibility; I just have to say stinky zebra.” A warmth trickled down over my body. It washed over me from head to toe and I realized I had accidentally started the spell. “Oops.”
“Good thing we’re right by the gate,” she said. “Come on, let’s run inside and make the most of these five minutes.”
I could still see mom but there was a slight faintness to her image, which let me know the spell was still active. Alongside that I could feel a faint pulsing warmth, so I could feel when the spell wore off. We ran along the sidewalk and ducked under the barrier with no trouble at all from the guard.
“What’s with the weird codeword to start the spell?” I asked mom as we walked.
“She always does it. I think she thinks she’s being funny. It’s quite handy though, it stops you from accidentally setting of a spell you prepared earlier. There’s no chance you’re just going to randomly say stinky zebra. I mean, you just did. But you get the point.”
“Does mental illness run in this family? Honest question.”
“Look!” Mom said excitedly. “There’s Tyson, and he’s heading into his trailer with a pretty young thing! Let’s go and eavesdrop and see if we can hear anything exciting!” Mom grabbed my hand and we took off running.
I really was quite impressed by the hustle and bustle in the alleyways between the different studio lots, this really was like a smaller Hollywood setup, and I never would have suspected something like this would exist on Pendle Island. We ran past trollies full of props, rails of costumes, and weaved through the endless stream of folk moving around stage equipment and heavy looking lighting rigs.
The alley opened into a wider courtyard of sorts where there were a number of trailers stationed. We ran right up to the trailer of
mom’s old flame and stood underneath an open window. From the sounds of things mom’s producer friend and this young woman were arguing.
“Acting my ass!” a man’s voice snapped. “You don’t think I can’t tell the difference? You must think me some kind of fool, Winnie!”
“Oh get over yourself Ty, this paranoia act is really starting to run dry. I’m just doing my job,” came back the droll voice of the younger woman.
“This is your last warning!” Ty said. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to here. I can make you or break you darling. You cross me, and you’ll never work in this town again! You break it off with him, you hear? It’s over. Over!”
The sound of stomping footfall quickly preceded the open and slam of the trailer door. I momentarily forgot I was invisible and scrambled to duck behind cover with my mom, before remembering that we were safely out of sight.
“Oh my!” Mom laughed to herself. “Tyson hasn’t changed!”
“He seems… a bit hot-headed,” I said.
“And that’s putting it lightly. Yes, he’s got a little temper problem, but by all accounts, he sounds justified this time. Did you hear that? He and the girl are an item, but she is having an affair perhaps? How scandalous! Let’s see what he does next, we only have a minute or two more of this delicious invisibility!”
Before I could protest mom grabbed my hand and chased after her old flame. He moved quickly and furiously, others moving out of his way while his thumb angrily jabbed the keypad of the cellphone he was glaring into. He was of average height, with short dark hair and a face that was made up of lots of angry angles. He wore a bright blue suit that made him very hard to miss.
“Out of the way!” he barked as he stormed around a corner, nearly colliding with a group of crew people wheeling carts of camera equipment from one set to another.
“Who is this man?” I said to my mom. He had that ‘I’m the big boss and everyone is scared of me’ energy, something that I didn’t find that impressive. The words ‘rude jackass’ came to mind.
“He’s the head producer here at the studio. He gets the films made and bosses everyone else around. I know he seems like a lot, but he’s very good at what he does!”
A man promptly sprinted up to Ty and broke into a jog-walk to match his speed. “Ty, we need to talk, I’ve been looking over my contract here, you screwed me royally!”
Ty’s phone started ringing, he looked at the screen and cancelled the call. “What can I say Leonard, that’s showbusiness for ya.”
The man jogging alongside Ty grabbed his suit by the sleeve and pulled him into a stop. “Listen here buddy, you might think you can go around talking to everyone else like this, but you’re not going to screw me! We had a deal, fifteen percent of the final cut! This new contract of yours gives me nothing!”
Tyson Bryce smacked the man’s hand away and growled. “Get your hands off me, you stinking drunk! You signed a contract, and a deal’s a deal. You’re a writer, it’s not my fault you can’t read! Pack your bags and clear out. You’re fired! Security, please escort Mr. Leonard Bell off the premises!”
Tyson took off again, not even pausing to see the writer’s reaction. A group of burly security men appeared from out of nowhere and surrounded him. “All right, fellas,” Leonard said meekly. “No fight from me. Just let me get my things.”
Security escorted the writer. Mom grabbed my hand, pulling me after Tyson again. “Come on Chelsea, before we miss any more excitement!”
“Man, he’s a real piece of work! How on earth could you fall in love with this guy?”
“Darling he has that raw animal magnetism, the jerk equation. Tyson is a meanie yes, but he sets goals and he gets things done. You can’t tell me that’s not attractive!”
“I’m saying it right now, there is no way this man is my father.”
“Honey I know he’s different to you and me, but he does have a soft side, and he’s one of the few men here that I dated more than once. I had to break it off in the end though, his temper got too much. Oh dear I’m vibrating… I think the spell is wearing off.” I heard a ‘pop!’ and I knew the invisibility was over. The lot was so busy that no one seemed to notice two women appearing from nowhere. Tyson disappeared into a studio on the right and mom pulled me into a run again. “Quick, before we lose him!”
We turned the corner and found ourselves standing on a stage set up to look like the surface of the moon, looking back at the sign by the door there was a sign that read ‘Dead as a Dodo, Scene 39’.
“There’s a moon scene in your book?” I said, looking over to see my mom in sheer horror.
“No, there most certainly is not! It’s a historical mystery featuring a Dutch sailing party! Tyson! Tyson! What on earth is going on here?!”
Tyson, who was currently in the middle of giving a young production runner a hard time for something—I’m sure it was trivial—turned around and lit up as he saw my mother. “Lorelai! Oh, you came! How brilliant!” He opened his arms to meet her with a hug, a gesture that she begrudgingly took before pulling out of it again quickly.
“Yes, I did, and what is the meaning of this?!” she demanded, waving an arm at the sci-fi set before us. “My book is set in the early twentieth century, there are no scenes on the moon!”
“Well that’s the brilliance of it,” Ty said. “I took your story and dragged it into the twentieth century! Boring Dutch sailing party? Say hello to team of sexy female cosmonauts! Stupid boring bird? Exotic rare alien monster! It’s artistic license!”
“Sounds less like artistic license and more like you completely changed the story,” I said. Ty shot me a confused and bitter look, one that told me that people didn’t talk to him that way very often.
“And you are?”
“Ty this is Chelsea, my daughter, and I have to say I agree! You can’t just butcher my story like this!”
“I think you’ll find I can Lorelai, and I already have! My studio bought the rights to this story from your publisher, I can do whatever the heck I want now!”
“Maybe try making a good movie?” I suggested.
He shot me a look but ignored the comment. Something told me he was only tolerating me because my mother was there. “Lorelai, look, I know I’ve changed a few things, but I promise you the heart of your story is still there. Stick around for the day and watch a few scenes, I guarantee you’re going to love it! We can go and grab dinner later and catch up, just like old times, just the two of us!”
“Tyson I’m visiting my daughter; she will come too!”
His face soured, but he maintained a polite smile. “Of course, she seems… lovely! Why don’t you both stand over there and watch while the magic happens, I guarantee you won’t be disappointed!”
I could think of a hundred things I’d rather do with my day then stand around a filmset while a short angry man barked orders at people, but this seemed important to my mom, so I decided to be there for her.
I’d like to say things got better the more we watched, but if anything it was the opposite. After filming the shots on the moon Ty hurried the operation over to another soundstage where we found ourselves on some sort of gothic looking cathedral set. “Oh come on now!” mom regarded. “What part of my book is set in a cathedral?!”
“This is the space cathedral,” Tyson said. “It’s actually a spaceship buried under the surface of mars, look I’ll get you a copy of the script, you can read it, it’s brilliant!”
Things only got worse from there I’m afraid. I could see my mom’s silent rage building and building as she scanned through the script, a desperate distraction to keep her from a musical number that Tyson had somehow shoehorned into his version of the story.
“Oh I’ve had enough of this!” she muttered to herself while some strange dream sequence involving little people played out on the set before us. “Get your things, Chelsea, I won’t watch anymore!”
I gathered my things—the bright yellow umbrella was the only thing I had, mom wa
s the one with the huge handbag—while mom marched over to Tyson and shoved the screwed up script in his chest.
“Lori!” he said in surprise. “We’re just doing the final shot of the day and then we can wrap, it won’t take long, I promise!”
“Spare me Tyson, I won’t hear another word. You’ve made a complete mockery of my story, and I swear I will do everything in my power to make sure this production is shut down!”
Tyson just laughed and rolled his eyes. “You haven’t changed Lorelai. Get off my set, I’ve got enough drama queens in here already. It was good seeing you!”
Mom sure had picked an interesting time to storm out. We’d practically hung around all day and most of the crew were even gone now. She marched back to me, rage evident in her eyes, and I followed quickly. “Come on Chelsea, I’m not embarrassing myself here any longer!”
We got a little lost trying to find our way out, but ten minutes later we were back at the front gates leading out of the small studio. It was only then of course that I realized mom’s large handbag was missing.
“Mom, your bag! Did you leave it behind?”
She was still wrapped in a silent fury but stopped mid step to notice that, yes, she had left her bag behind. “Oh, drat it all! Chelsea, wait here, I’ll go back and get it!”
I stood there and waited on the inside of the gate, tapping my foot and checking my watch as the minutes started to tick by. Mom didn’t exactly have the best sense of direction so figuring that she had got lost I decided to trek back and look for her.
Walking back I had no problem remembering my way to the stage where we had last been. The sun was setting now, and it was starting to get darker, there were less people about in general and it looked like mostly everyone had gone home.
Up ahead I saw a bright wedge of light from the open stage door and then I heard a high-pitched scream. I started running, skidding around the corner to see the set of the alien spaceship we had stormed out on only minutes earlier.
“Chelsea!” mom screamed as she saw me. “Quick, quick, he’s dead!”