Death of a Movie Star

by Timothy Patrick

  “I don’t know what you think you got planned here, Cass, but it ain’t happening. You didn’t talk to me when it really mattered. You sure as hell aren’t talking to me now. Take your guilty conscience to a shrink.”

  “I don’t have anything to feel guilty about, Brandi. I made a simple business decision, and for some reason you have decided to turn it into the defining moment of your life. That’s the reason your career is stuck in the toilet, not because of anything I did,” said Cass.

  “You really don’t get it, how all this works, do you? This might be reality TV, but that doesn’t make it real. They pay me to say shit about you, so I say it. If you want the real truth, I’ll give it to you now. I don’t care about you, and I don’t think about you. So don’t flatter yourself,” said Brandi, who then leaned back in the seat, put in some earbuds, and listened to music.

  Five minutes later, as the van took the highway 33 turnoff toward the ranch, Brandi laughed out loud. Cass looked back at her. Brandi turned down the music and said, “You want to know the real joke? It’s you and your self-righteous crusade against the blacklist. Maybe you should add your own name to the witch hunt.”

  “I didn’t blacklist you,” said Cass.

  “Then where the hell have I been for the last three years?” yelled Brandi.

  “You did that to yourself! You don’t know when to keep your mouth shut! Lots of actors have opinions, but they know it’s not smart to talk about it. Why do you have to be different?”

  “Is that really your answer? If you got an opinion, keep your mouth shut, and we’ll let you work? Are you listening to yourself?”

  Cass had nothing else to say. She had tried, but the effort had been a complete waste of time.

  ***

  Brandi and the other three actors retook the positions in front of the hotel that they’d occupied that morning. Micah stood before them on the platform, getting ready to film the last segment of the second-to-last show of the season. Brandi had been the one to beat all season long, having won twice as many competitions as the next closest competitor. Even now, some sixteen weeks later, she felt focused and alert and planned to stay that way until she got what she came for.

  The cameras rolled, and Micah said, “Two of you are going home, and two of you will be demoted into the final round where you will battle it out for the StarBash Greasy Dishrag and a ten-million-dollar movie deal. Are you ready to learn your fates?”

  The actors leaned forward and clapped nervously, except Cass, who apparently had too much dignity to care about such things.

  “Very good,” said Micah. “But before we do, let’s invite back our special guest, Mr. Elmer Stubhowzer. I understand he has some parting gifts that he wants to pass out to our contestants. Come on up here, Elmer.”

  StarBash liked to pump up the excitement, pop it in the actors’ faces, and then pump it back up again during the last few minutes of the show. It kind of made sense. They had a forty-three-minute time slot and had to fill it with something. Normally Brandi knew better than to get too excited the first time Micah got excited, but maybe this week her focus had been just a little too sharp. She took a deep breath and watched Elmer, the redneck penny-pincher, bounce up to the stage and stand next to Micah. He wore the same gold-toothed smile and thrift-store duds from earlier in the day. He also carried a large burlap bag.

  “Hello, Elmer. What do you have in the bag?” asked Micah.

  “I got stuff for the actors,” said Elmer.

  “That’s great. I’m sure our actors appreciate that. I’ll step aside, and you go ahead and do your thing, my friend.”

  Elmer reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like a bundle of thin leather straps that had things dangling from them. He separated one of the straps from the others and held it up for the camera. It was a leather necklace with a large animal tooth.

  “That’s nice,” said Micah. “What’s it made of?”

  “A pig’s tooth.”

  “Yes, of course it is. It was silly of me to even ask,” said Micah.

  One of the Steadicams followed Elmer as he placed a necklace around the neck of each actor. Brandi fingered the menacing fang and smiled. She actually liked this sort of thing.

  When he’d finished, Micah said, “Very good. What else do you have for our lucky contestants?”

  “I saved the best for last,” said Elmer, as he pulled a large mason jar from the burlap bag. It contained a yellowish, fleshy substance suspended in liquid. He held it up to the camera and said, “It’s my famous pickled pigs’ feet that won fifth prize at the Butte County Fair!”

  “Elmer, I have to ask you a question about your pig,” said Micah. “Do you ever get the feeling that maybe he’s doing more than his fair share of the work?”

  Elmer considered the question for a few seconds and said, “No, can’t say as I do on account of it being a pig and all. That’s what pigs do. Now if it was a rightful member of the family, then maybe you might have a point.”

  “Then that’s good enough for me, my good man,” said Micah. “You go right ahead and pass out what’s left of your pig.”

  Micah watched Elmer hand a jar to each of the contestants and then said, “Very good, Mr. Stubhowzer. Is that everything?”

  “Yes, I believe it is, except for the payment. They each owe me thirty dollars—twenty for the necklace and ten for the pig’s feet.”

  Micah looked confused, and so did the actors. Brandi didn’t have any money on her, and probably neither did anyone else. It had to be a joke. After a few awkward moments, Micah said, “Never fear, my friends; this one is on StarBash. No expense is too great when it comes to an actor’s rehabilitation.” He pulled out a small wad of cash and said, “How much do I owe you, Elmer?”

  “One hundred twenty dollars.”

  Elmer held out his hand, and Micah peeled off six twenty-dollar bills. But Elmer kept his hand out and said, “Plus three dollars California sales tax.” Micah counted out three dollars.

  “And forty cents California bottle deposit,” said Elmer.

  Micah gave him another dollar.

  “And one dollar California grocery-bag fee for the reusable grocery bag,” said Elmer, as he held up the burlap bag.

  Micah looked at Elmer and said, “I think you’d make a good lawyer. Have you ever considered that line of work?”

  “Yes, sir, I did at one time,” said Elmer. “But then I realized I had a reputation to keep, so I let it go.”

  “That’s a good point. Besides you are really good at what you do,” said Micah, as he added another dollar to the heap. The two men then shook hands, and Elmer left with a pocketful of money and a spring in his step.

  Micah turned to the actors and said, “All right, that was fun, but now it’s time to get down to business.” An assistant relieved the actors of their little piggy treasures and Micah continued: “In this battle, Team Tightwad took on Team Clueless in the great American picnic challenge, where you had to buy a picnic worthy of the cheapskate champion of the world. But we’re not talking about just any old cheap picnic; it had to be a Great Value picnic.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Brandi saw Cass shift nervously and look at the ground.

  “Tiffany! Please bring me the envelope,” said Micah.

  Tiffany and all her curves slinked past the cameras. She handed the envelope to Micah and slinked away. The actors held hands. Micah tore open one corner of the envelope and paused. He said, “Have any of you ever been this close to ten million dollars in your entire life?”

  The actors moaned.

  Micah tore open the rest of the envelope and pulled out the card. The actors closed their eyes. Micah said, “And the team advancing to our final round, where they will compete against each other for the coveted Greasy Dishrag, is…Team Clueless!”

  Team Tightwad groaned, Cass gasped loudly, and Brandi smiled confidently.

  “Wow!” said Micah. “Such different reactio
ns! Cass looks completely shocked, and Brandi looks completely confident. Ladies, come up here and tell our audience what’s going on.”

  They stepped up to the platform and stood next to Micah, one on each side.

  “Let’s start with you, Cassandra. Why the surprise?”

  “Uh…uh…to tell the truth, I’m a little confused…because I thought I had bought the wrong things,” said Cass.

  “No, you didn’t,” said Micah. “Everything you purchased had the Great Value logo on it. How do you explain that?”

  “I can’t,” said Cass.

  “What about you, Brandi? Cass says she bought the wrong stuff, but now it’s the right stuff. Can you explain it?”

  “Yeah, it’s easy,” said Brandi. “Cass didn’t have a clue, so I filled my own bag and switched it with hers when she turned her back.”

  “Um…you belong to the same team. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell her?” asked Micah.

  “Some people you can talk to, and some you can’t, so let’s just say I’m glad the whole thing is over,” said Brandi.

  “And now the two of you will be going head-to-head for ten million dollars,” said Micah. “Do you care to make a prediction?”

  “I’m gonna kick her ass. That’s my prediction,” said Brandi.

  “I imagine you have an opinion about that, Cassandra. Do you care to share it with us?” asked Micah.

  “I’m going to do my best, and it’s going to be a lot of fun,” said Cass.

  What a dummy, thought Brandi. Micah had given Cass a chance to take a jab, but of course she had to play it like Sister Grace-Be-with-Thee.

  It had been a very great day for Brandi. She had served a batch of hot, stinky humility to her enemy, and she had made it to the finale. She’d actually made it. And the best news of all? She’d be going up against Cassandra Moreaux, the ultimate Hollywood puppet. Cass knew how to follow the herd. She knew how to smile, and bat her eyes, and tap dance her way out of a jam. She didn’t know StarBash, and she especially didn’t know the StarBash audience. Brandi knew these people. She understood them. In many ways she was one of them. And, besides all these advantages, Brandi still had a weapon that Cass would never have, the weapon that had helped her to make it to the end: she had the power of revenge.

  She started using it that very night.

  After they’d wrapped for the evening, Brandi handed Cass a folded newspaper and said, “This hits the stores tomorrow, but I got an early copy especially for you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Plus, they paid me ten thousand dollars. Isn’t show business wonderful!”

  ***

  When Brandi thrust the rolled-up newspaper into her hand, Cass didn’t look at it. Why give her the satisfaction? Besides, the smile on that chubby face said it all: more bad news had just arrived. When she got back to the trailer, Cass found out exactly how bad. It was a supermarket tabloid, and the front page showed a series of pictures of her and Micah. One of the pictures showed Micah coming out of Cass’s trailer. Another one showed Cass unlocking Micah’s door. The final picture showed one of the notes Micah had left for Cass. It included the word “love.” In screaming red letters the headline said, “Casmo Sleeps with the Enemy!” Splashy bullet points under the headline said: “A-Lister Goes Bonkers! Career is Toast! Ditched by Hollywood Pals!”

  Chapter eleven

  The changing of the seasons in California just doesn’t seem to pack the same punch as in other parts of the country. But for Micah it did…for at least one of the seasons anyway. It happened when the StarBash season ended and anything but StarBash began. And with another show in the can, and only one more to go, the fresh scent of a new season had started blowing through the ranch.

  His spirits had been lifted for another reason, too. Even though the show had gotten hopelessly sidetracked over the years, for the first time, he liked where they had ended up. He liked Brandi, and he liked Cass. Though they had completely different personalities, they both had a core of decency that guided their lives, and they had lifted the show with that decency.

  On this night, just after wrapping for the week, he had popped over to the workshop to grab his mail. As he started to open the door, headlights flooded the building, and a familiar car pulled up. It was Cass, in her black BMW. She lowered the window and said, “Remember when you invited me to dinner?”

  “Yes,” said Micah.

  “Good. I accept. Get in.”

  “Uh…OK,” said Micah. He got into the car.

  Cass had on the same peach-colored cashmere sweater and designer jeans that she’d worn earlier on set. She said, “Buckle up,” and then stomped on the gas pedal.

  “I take it you’re hungry,” said Micah.

  “You have nothing to smile about, Micah. This isn’t a date. It’s a distraction.”

  “OK. A good distraction is probably better than a bad date, so I’m down for that. What exactly am I distracting you from?”

  “See, you’re already doing a good job. Maybe this won’t turn out to be a terrible decision after all,” said Cass.

  She then tossed a newspaper onto his lap. Micah looked it over and thought of a few jokes but then saw Cass’s clenched jaw.

  “I’ll give you one guess who did it,” said Cass.

  “I’m hoping Lenora did it because then that would mean you got off easy with whatever deal you have going on,” said Micah.

  “Good guess but wrong answer. Brandi did it.”

  “I’m sorry, Cass. You don’t deserve this.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re obsessed with Lenora?”

  This blunt question surprised Micah, but he chalked it up to Cass’s disturbed state of mind. He answered, “Yes. One person has said that.”

  “Your wife?” asked Cass.

  “You know, I’m probably only good for one distraction,” said Micah. “Are you sure this is the one you want?”

  “I’ll make a deal with you,” said Cass. “You tell me about your marriage, and I’ll tell you about mine, and then we’ll both be miserable. And if you make your marriage more rotten than mine, I’ll even pay for dinner. How’s that sound? But first tell me where we’re going, and the more crowded the better. My career is scorched, so we might as well make a big splash and give these idiots something decent to gossip about—besides this bullshit.”

  Micah gave her directions to the restaurant, and then his brain scrambled to think of the words to describe his marriage. He never talked about it. And since he never talked about it, he had zero confidence in his ability to choose words that had even a hint of presentable gloss to them. So over the next twenty minutes, as they made their way down the hill, Micah gave Cass the unglossed version of a short marriage that had ended four years earlier. It hadn’t been a rotten marriage. It had been a crowded marriage, and Micah had had the power to make it uncrowded, but he didn’t do it. And it hadn’t been a case of meddling. Lenora, the unwelcomed third party, hadn’t cared enough to meddle; after four years living under the same roof, she barely knew Heather’s name. It had been crowded by Micah’s devotion to Lenora, devotion that had rightfully belonged to his wife. At first he’d convinced Heather that he just had a demanding job, like millions of other people. It didn’t take long, though, for her to see through that. And then she eventually left, and Micah didn’t stop her.

  “Why didn’t you fix it? What does Lenora have over you?” asked Cass.

  “It’s not her. It’s me. It’s like she’s a math problem, and I’m the only one in the world who can solve it. And if I give up, the answer will be lost forever.”

  “But maybe, if you lose the answer, you’ll find out that life is better without it,” said Cass.

  “There’s no maybe about it,” said Micah, “but here I am, still at the ranch with Lenora.”

  After this the two fell silent for a while before Cass said, “Uh…does this mean it’s my turn?”

  “Yes
, I believe that’s what it means.”

  “Any chance of a rain check?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so, but only because I’m the distractor, and you’re the distractee, and everyone knows the distractee isn’t required to say a word.”

  “I like this game,” said Cass. “Are you ready for the next question?”

  Micah said yes but secretly hoped that the next question would be easier than the first.

  “Why did you ask me out?” asked Cass.

  “That’s an easy one. You’re not afraid of people, and I find that interesting. I’ve seen it. You rush into the mess without giving it a second thought. You’re not afraid of the sadness or the ugliness, and because of that, you find beauty that would otherwise be lost. Who knows, maybe I’m hoping some of it will rub off on me.”

  ***

  Cell phones immediately popped into the air from tables and booths all around. Cass had grown accustomed to the phones and the clicking and the excited whispers of the picture takers, even if it did sometimes get tiresome. On this night Cass barely noticed. She had other things on her mind. She had problems. And now, before they had barely made it to the restaurant, Cass had added a new one to the pile: She liked Micah Bailey, and the more she got to know him, the more she liked him. Cass had officially crossed over to the dark side.

  She especially didn’t need this kind of problem. The Micah Bailey problem didn’t synchronize with her other problems. In fact, it made them even worse: “Hi. My name’s Cass. I’m reading for the part of Betty…oh, don’t mind him. He’s with me, and he hates Hollywood…”

  She thought about putting on the brakes, reining in her feelings, or at least burying them in a hole for a few weeks until the dust had settled from the demolition of her career, but Micah’s straight-shooting ways completely disarmed her. One minute she had the menu in hand and talked pleasantly about peanut coleslaw, in full control of her faculties; the next minute she found herself blabbing about her train-wreck marriage in glaring black-and-white honesty. Cassandra Moreaux just didn’t do things like that. It was scary confessional kind of shit. She told it from beginning to end, about two top-of-the-world fun-loving actors who got married and moved straight into the Hotel Hollywood power suite. About how she thought she had lucked out with a dream marriage that made all of her friends envious. Whenever one of the tabloids did a marriage issue, they put Cass and her husband on the rock-solid, smiley-face side of the page. Until one day they didn’t anymore, and Cass found out that she had married a cheater who had started cheating before they had even gotten home from the honeymoon.