by Gina LaManna
“I’m here.” Clay slunk out of one of the theaters, his gaze firmly fixed on his shoes.
“What did you do?” I crossed my arms.
“Nothing.” He toed the curling edge of the maroon rug. “Nothing dangerous, at least.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Fine!” He threw his arms up. “I tried to enhance one of the projectors with one of my inventions. Let’s just say it’s my take on 3D.”
“And?”
“And what?” Clay looked up, guilt written across his face.
“Did it work?”
“Sort of,” Clay said. “There’s a ten percent chance I fixed it.”
“Is it the theater for tomorrow?” I asked. “You guys, come on. This is the first assignment for our team. If we outfit a concession stand like an artillery room and break all the projectors, do you think they’ll invite us back?”
Meg shrugged. “This place is all about the drama, so who knows? They’d probably like it. Maybe they’d make a movie about it. Talk about meta – a movie within a movie. We could have the next Inception on our hands.”
“Here’s the plan. Listen.” I waved for Clay and Meg to huddle close. “Do you see this theater?”
Meg and Clay nodded as I gestured towards the beautiful building around us. The facility was brand new, not even a year old. Located on the sidewalk with the stars, it had a classy, regal feel from old-time Hollywood, back in the days of speakeasies and silent films. Thick, heavy curtains hung around the interior walls, and the concession stands were a blend of modern candies and old school soda fountains.
Outside, bustling staffers were already preparing the red carpet for tomorrow’s events, hauling lights, chairs, bleachers. The cameras and swarms of people would arrive soon after, making our jobs far more difficult. I scanned the interior, noting the grand staircase, on which photos would be taken of the stars in their beautiful gowns. Magazines would print photos of these same people – and animals – the following week, critiquing the fit of every dress, the curl of every strand of hair.
I shuddered, happy to be safe behind the scenes. “All right, gang. Our job is to make sure that the news outlets don’t have anything more traumatic to report than an over-tweezed eyebrow. Got it?”
“Over-tweezing on the red carpet is a big no-no,” Meg said. “Bushy is in these days.”
Clay rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, as if looking to see whether he had enough “bush” in his eyebrows to be considered stylish.
“You’re good, Clay.” Meg patted his shoulders. “Your brows are one of your best assets, if you want my opinion.”
Clay beamed, as if Meg had told him he’d won the lottery. Then again, he had won the eyebrow lottery, seeing as how the last time Clay used a pair of tweezers, it was to pluck at a wire in his computer. Those brows were all natural.
“Now, here’s what we need to do.” I looked them each in the eyes. “Mack, can you help us out? I have a job for you.”
“Depends,” he said, standing up and joining us around the concession stand. “What is it?”
“Okay. I want eyes and ears everywhere tomorrow. We’re providing security for Poopsie—” I started, stopping at Mack’s look.
“Can we pick a code name for the dog?” he asked. “I can’t say that name and call myself a man.”
“Shitsie?” Meg suggested.
We all looked at her, nobody commenting.
“How about…Curly,” I said. “The dog’s hair is curly. It’s a tribute to the Three Stooges. It works in so many ways.”
“I’m on board,” Mack agreed. “Thank you.”
I nodded. “Now, Clay, you’re responsible for visual and audio. Can you handle that? I want each of us outfitted with an earpiece and a small camera we can wear somewhere on our person. I’m going to help Clay sweep the place head to toe now, so we can get an idea of the floor plan.”
“Doesn’t the theater have security?” Meg asked. “Shouldn’t they be doing some of this?”
“Miss Lizabeth got us access to this place for three hours today,” Mack said. “The security team already did their sweep this morning, we’re just following it up. The police are aware of the threat, but until something happens, we’re low on their totem pole. This is Los Angeles. The police have bigger fish to fry than a potential dognapping. Except for the phone call, which we can’t trace, they don’t have much to go on.”
“I hate to ask this, since I’d be effectively firing myself from the job,” I said. “But I’ve been wondering. Has Miss Lizabeth considered simply not going to this event? If she’s really that concerned?”
“I’ve tried to convince her to do just that.” Mack pursed his lips. “Good luck, if you want to try, but she’s stubborn. The threat on the phone said ‘her next public appearance.’ To Lizabeth, that means if she doesn’t go to this premier, they’ll just be waiting at the next one. And then there’ll be another, and another, and another. Frankly, she’d rather prepare as much as possible when she knows it’s coming, and get to the bottom of it.”
I clapped my hands. “And now it’s our job to get to the bottom of it. Meg, your task for today is to pretend to be a star.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t gotta pretend, sista. I am a star.”
“Great. Then you and Mack work together. Mack, you’re a paparazzo for this pretend activity. You follow Meg around. Meg, you go everywhere that Curly might go.”
“Who’s Curly?” Meg frowned.
“Poopsie!” I crossed my arms. “Code names don’t work if we forget them.”
“If we called him Curly Poopsie, it might be easier to remember,” Meg said. “Just a suggestion.”
“Regardless, I need you to pretend you’re at the premier. Where would you go? The bathroom, the main theater, the bar for a drink.” I waved a hand with a flourish. “The red carpet, the staircase. Mack will follow you around, keep an eye out for any places that could pose a problem. Closets. Blind spots. Note the exits, all of that, okay? We’ll regroup in an hour and a half and discuss everything in detail.”
Meg pouted her lip and preened. “Ask me for my autograph.”
“Meg, it’s just pretend, we’re just scouting the place out,” I said. “You won’t be walking the actual carpet tomorrow. We’ll be behind the scenes.”
“That’s no fun.” Meg crossed her arms, then fluffed her hair. “And you still didn’t ask me for my autograph.”
Thinking it would be faster to play along than to argue, I exhaled a long breath. “May I please have your autograph, superstar Meg?”
“No, you little person.” She flicked her wrist and stomped off. “Absolutely not.”
“Sorry,” I said to Mack. “I didn’t expect her to take the role so seriously.”
“No problem, I’m used to it.” He winked. “She’d do well in the movie industry.”
“She is quite a character,” I said, watching Meg pose for invisible cameras. “Oh, there she goes crying now, and accepting an award. Oh, no…what have I started?”
“Mack!” Meg called. “Come ask me for my autograph, dammit.”
“See ya,” I said, giving a wave and a tight smile in Mack’s direction. “Good luck. Thanks for the help.”
CHAPTER 15
Several hours later, we broke for a mid-afternoon meal. Walking to the sandwich shop down the street, we all piled into a booth, each of us drooling over a footlong.
“I don’t understand how them stars do it,” Meg said. “I’d be hungry all the time, walking around and waving like that. I think when I accepted that award, the crying alone cost me about two thousand calories.”
I didn’t necessarily agree, but seeing as how I had a footlong in front of me, and I was starving after poking around a movie theater for a couple hours, I couldn’t really talk.
“Updates?” I glanced around the table. “Everyone feeling okay for tomorrow night?”
Mack nodded. “Meg was the perfect celebrity, waving and posing f
or the camera.”
Meg gave a fist pump at Mack’s praise.
“I followed her everywhere – ladies’ restroom and all.” Mack slid photocopied sheets of paper around, though where he’d found a printer was anyone’s guess. “I made a list of any potential danger zones. Here we have a broom closet under the stairs. It was locked, but when I “accidentally” opened it with my handy key, I confirmed there’s nothing more dangerous than a mop inside. Something to keep in mind, however. Here’s a back door that would make for an easy access. Clay, could we get eyes on this door, just in case someone tries to sneak out…or in?”
Clay nodded. “Took care of it. None of the entrances have blind spots in terms of visuals. I can’t record audio on a large scale because it’ll be too noisy. I’m going to focus audio on everyone’s individual person and program it to only pick up the nearest voices. We should be able to capture intimate conversations, but nothing more.”
“Who has intimate conversations at a movie premier?” Meg asked. “You know, if that’s acceptable…can I tell you something? I just got a bikini wax yesterday, which was great timing for this special event. But you wanna know something else?”
“No,” I said. “No, we don’t.”
Meg continued anyway. “I had hair places I didn’t even know.”
“All righty, then,” I said, stopping the conversation before everyone lost their appetites. “All Clay means by intimate conversations are one-on-one, close quarter exchanges. Right, Clay?”
But Clay was staring at his sandwich as if it were from Mars, still in a funk after hearing about Meg’s waxing details.
“Clay.” I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “You all right, buddy? Can you continue what you were saying? What about surveillance?”
Clay started at my touch, then swiped a hand across his forehead. “Uh, yeah, you’ll get audio—”
“Fast forward,” I said. “We got that part.”
“Oh, uh. Well, you’ll also receive a small pin of some sort with a camera attached. Those are for the close ups. I’ve also got cameras at all the entrances and exits. Small, disposable ones, so we can just leave them after the event. But they’ll do the job.”
“Good work, cousin,” I said. “Now, go ahead and eat your sandwich. Meg, did you see anything?”
“Yeah, I looked real close.” She leaned in, whispering with a conspiratorial glimmer in her eye. “If you stand two feet to the right of the bottom of the staircase, it gives you a great view of the stars’ rear ends when they’re posing for pictures. I call that spot when James Bond takes the carpet.”
“I’m glad you paid attention to all the important things,” I said with a wry smile. “Great work.”
Meg smirked. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Anything else, you two?” I looked to Mack and Clay.
They both shook their heads.
“This is good, you guys,” I said, pleased as I looked down at the map. We couldn’t guarantee with one hundred percent accuracy that we could prevent the worst case scenario, but nobody could make that guarantee. “We almost sound like professionals.”
“So, we’ve got the map, all the blind spots and danger zones sketched out, thanks to Mack,” I said. “Excellent. And courtesy of Clay, we have extra eyes all over the theater, since we can’t be everywhere at once, the four of us. And Meg…uh, thanks for your hard work, too.”
“I think we’re doing pretty good,” Mack said. “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
I bit my lip. “Event starts at seven. Which means it’ll actually start much closer to eight thirty. But we’ll be arriving at four to get in place. Meg, let’s have you arrive as a makeup artist about an hour after Mack and me.”
“I always knew I was an artiste at heart!” Meg shook her head, her eyes almost misty. “I told my waxer that yesterday, but she didn’t believe me. But speaking of artistes, did you know she can do your hair in patterns…down there? I had no idea! They can do like, Christmas decorations.”
I blinked at her. “Neat.”
“Yeah, but you know what I went with?” Meg took a huge bite of her footlong sandwich.
I bulldozed through any further description from Meg. “Clay, can you work with Mack to get one of the vehicles in Lizabeth’s garage ready for a stakeout? You can park it around the block tomorrow night. You can hang out in the van, monitor the computers for the event. How does that sound?”
“I’ll be at the top of my game.” Clay took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and waited until Meg looked in his direction before he let out the breath and took a huge bite of his sandwich. “You all can trust me.”
“I’ll be your makeup artist,” Meg said to the table as a whole. “But I’m gonna need a budget for new makeup.”
“You’re not really doing anyone’s makeup, you know that, right? You’ve just gotta look the part so if we need extra help at the event, you won’t look out of place. For the most part, you can hang out in the van with Clay.”
“Oh, sure.” She winked. “We’ll see about that. Everyone wants makeup.”
“You don’t need to buy makeup.”
“Thirty dollar budget for CVS, or no deal.” She crossed her arms.
“Deal,” I extended a hand, and shook hers. Out of our prepaid twenty-five thousand dollars cash, a few tens could be spared to keep Meg happy.
“I’m thinking blue eyeliner, blue mascara, and blue hair for you,” Meg said, eyeing me up. “We’re going for the shocking look.”
“Nope. That’s not happening.”
“Give it time,” she said. “Give it time.”
“Where would you like me?” Mack asked.
“You and I, we’ll be at the event. Maybe we can take one of the fancier cars?” I raised an eyebrow in question. “If you don’t mind, maybe we can play your stunt guy card. Does that get you anything?”
“Luckily for you, I did some stunt work for the director of this film,” Mack said with a smile. “We’re on friendly, grab-a-beer-type terms, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem. But I will probably only get two passes into the theater. I can’t think of a reason I’d have a date and then a third wheel.”
“It’s not a date,” I said. “We’re working.”
“But I can’t tell him that,” Mack said. “We can play the stunt guy card or the security card, but we can’t do both.”
“Stunt guy,” I said. “The less people who know what we’re really after, the better.”
“I can get Meg inside for a few hours as a makeup artist, but when everyone heads into the theater, she’ll have to head back to the van.”
“That’s okay,” Clay said quickly. “She can wait with me in the car.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “Two sets of eyes on the computers and monitors are better than one.”
“Then we have a game plan,” Mack said, standing up, his footlong already vanished. “I have a few phone calls to make, so excuse me.”
“I’ve got to make phone calls, too,” I said to Meg and Clay after he left. “But I’m doing it right here. Keep it down for a sec, please, I’m gonna call Lizabeth.”
“Keep it down,” Meg winked at Clay. “You hear that?”
Clay’s white face turned pink, and he stared at his meatball hoagie. “I’ll try,” he muttered.
“Hi, Lizabeth?” I asked when the phone connected. “This is Lacey, Meg, Clay, and Mack. We’re just finishing up our walkthrough of the theater, and I wanted to touch base with you.”
I filled Miss Lizabeth in on all of the details, promised I’d get her a copy of the map, and assured her that yes, the beds at her house were more than comfortable, and so were the robes.
“Really, you’ve gone all out,” I said. “We’re enjoying our stay. Now, back to business, here’s what we’re thinking for tomorrow.”
I spelled out our plan and timing in minute-by-minute details, pleased when she didn’t have anything but positive feedback.
“Are you sure Meg do
esn’t want a ticket to the screening?” she asked. “I can get her one.”
I glanced up to see Meg offering Clay a bite from the opposite end of her sandwich, Lady and the Tramp style. “No,” I said, hiding a grin. I didn’t mean to play matchmaker, but the opportunity to let them bond over work was too good to let pass. “She’s looking forward to working with the computers.”
“Wonderful. Then there’s just one more order of business,” Miss Lizabeth said.
I frowned, wracking my brains for what I might’ve missed. “Sure, anything we can do.”
“Oh, it’s nothing you can do, but it is something you’ll need,” Lizabeth said. “A dress. How about tonight at eight p.m.? I’ll swing by the house with my designer. I’ve already had him start pulling dresses and making adjustments based upon my memories of your sizes.”
“No, no, you don’t need to do that.” I stared down at my plate. “Really, that’s too much. I was just planning on swinging by a store on the way home. A simple black dress will be perfect. Inconspicuous.”
“I have something else in mind.”
“Lizabeth, you’ve already given us a place to stay, a generous fee…please, I wouldn’t be able to borrow an expensive dress and feel right about it.”
“You’re not borrowing it, honey, you’re keeping it.” Lizabeth paused. “I have so many of these gowns, and they just sit and get dusty in my old age. Please, take one. Wear one. It would make me happy.”
I took too long to consider my response.
“Perfect,” Lizabeth jumped in, taking my silence as a yes. “I’ll see you tonight at eight.”
“One more thing,” I said. “Business related. In regard to the event, Mack has filled us all in on the phone calls and threats. I was wondering if you have any gut feelings on who might be behind them. If there’s anyone who might have it out for you, anyone upset with you or Poopsie for any reason.”
“It’s not your job to ‘solve’ this issue,” Miss Lizabeth said. “I have another team on it, investigating things. The job I hired your team for is to provide security for this event. It sounds like you’ve done a fabulous job preparing, which is all I’ve asked of you. Let’s leave my security team to do the investigating.”