Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery
Page 26
“The next bit is about the assistant director,’’ D’Vora said. “Did y’all know him?’’
“Awful man. He screamed at me the first day on the set,’’ Mama said.
“Jonathan J. Burt,’’ I said. “And I’d hardly call it screaming. He only threatened to kick her out because Mama ruined a scene when she ran in front of the cameras, waving her arms and carrying on. Then the poor guy got shot. What’s it say about him, D’Vora?’’
“He’s taking a position to monitor Hollywood movies for the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Def … Defam …”
“ ‘Defamation,’ ’’ Mrs. Banker helped out. “Our oldest son is gay.’’
If Mama had intended to do a biblical discourse on homosexuality, the revelation by the wife of a community pillar cut her short.
“Still no sight of the director,’’ Betty said, reading over D’Vora’s shoulder.
“Well, Paul won’t get away with it,’’ Mama said. “If Carlos has to hunt him down personally, he’ll catch him. Carlos Martinez always gets his man.’’
At the mention of Carlos’s name, Mama gave me a quick, guilty glance. An uncomfortable silence descended. Only Mrs. Bank President was unaware of the history, hard feelings, and pain attached to that name.
Betty changed the subject. “How do you suppose they’ll finish the movie without a director?’’
“I’m sure Barbara already has a list of names to bring in somebody else,’’ I said. “Norman Sydney was about to fire Paul, which is why Paul had such a powerful motive to get rid of him.”
A pout parked itself on Mama’s face.
“What?’’ I asked.
“I just hope the new director recognizes the star quality Paul saw in me.’’
“Well, Paul saw something in you, all right.’’
When Betty and D’Vora snickered, I felt bad. “I’m just kidding, y’all. Mama did a fantastic job with her scene. She killed. Right, Mama?’’
She fluttered her lashes modestly. “All I did was employ the methods of the great acting coach, Lee Strasberg. I tapped into my ‘affective memory.’’’
“Say what?’’ D’Vora scrunched up her face like she was doing calculus.
“Don’t ask,’’ I said.
“What happened to Paul’s girlfriend, Barbara?’’ Mama asked. “Did she help him get away?’’
“She says no,’’ I said. “She was busy making arrangements to get her ex-husband’s body back to Hollywood. They had the funeral two days after Savannah was arrested.’’
D’Vora’s periwinkle-shadowed eyelids suddenly went wide. She pointed out the front window. “Don’t look now, Mace, but there’s your gorgeous ex.’’
Carlos stood on the sunny sidewalk, squinting into the beauty parlor. Worried frowns passed between the four other women in the shop.
Betty aimed her comb toward the alley behind the shop. “Go on and run out the back door, honey.’’
I thought of how I’d lain in the dirt by the cow pen, praying I’d survive. I remembered the image I’d conjured of Carlos’s face, and what I promised myself if I escaped.
“No need, Betty. I think I’ll go out the front.’’
As I passed, Mama’s mouth dropped open so wide you could have run a John Deere tractor inside. Carlos smiled as I stepped out the door. I ran to him, eager to fulfill my vow to throw myself into his arms and never leave. Ever since the movie people departed, I’d been fulfilling it every chance I could.
I saw the astonishment on Mama’s face, now pressed against the window. She hadn’t suspected a thing about Carlos and I getting back together. As we stood in front of the shop, kissing in full view of Himmarshee’s biggest gossips, I heard a horn blow on Main Street.
A battered white pickup rattled past. Jeb Ennis leaned out the window, waving his cowboy hat. A silly grin split his face. He shouted, “Hey! Why don’t you two lovebirds go get a room?’’
We pulled apart. Carlos’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “That sounds like a pretty good idea, niña. We can go to my apartment. I rented us a movie.’’
I gave him a long look.
“I’ve had enough of Hollywood,’’ I said. “How about we skip the movie, and go straight to the matinee?’’
_____
Carlos and I snuggled together on his couch. To build back the energy we spent on our movie-free matinee, Carlos made us a snack of buttered popcorn. It filled a bowl on my lap.
Smoothing a strand of my mussed-up hair, he smiled at me. I grinned back, hoping there were no stray kernels caught in my teeth.
“How come you keep staring at me?’’ I asked.
“Just happy to have you here, niña.’’
I kissed him. “The feeling is mutual.’’
I dug to the bottom of the popcorn bowl, searching out my favorite half-burned, half-popped kernels. My fingers found a foreign object that didn’t feel at all like popcorn. It was circular and hard, with something pointy on top. Fishing it out, I placed it in the palm of my hand. Surrounded by a few stray kernels, a diamond winked at me from a golden band.
I looked up at Carlos. His dark eyes met mine. I saw love, and strength, and maybe a bit of nervousness there.
“Is this what I think it is?’’
He nodded. “Even with all our ups and downs, we belong together, Mace. I love you; and I think you love me, too.’’
It was my turn to nod. “I realized just how much in that cow pen, when I thought I’d never see you again.’’
He lowered himself from the couch to the floor, where he got onto one knee. “I want us to be together.’’ He gently took the ring from my hand, and then held it up to me. “Will you marry me?’’
I swallowed and took a deep breath. Then I said yes.
When he slipped the ring on my finger, I wasn’t surprised at all to see it was a perfect fit.
The End
Charles Trainor, Jr.
About the Author
Like Mace Bauer’s, Deborah Sharp’s family roots were set in Florida long before Disney and Miami Vice came to define the state. She does some writing at a getaway overlooking the Kissimmee River in the wilds north of Okeechobee, and some at Starbucks in Fort Lauderdale. As a Florida native and a longtime reporter for USA Today, she knows every burg and back road, including some not found on maps. Here’s what she has to say about Himmarshee:
Home to cowboys and church suppers, Himmarshee is hot and swarming with mosquitoes. A throwback to the ways of long-ago southern Florida, it bears some resemblance to the present-day ranching town of Okeechobee. The best thing about Mace and Mama’s hometown: it will always be threatened, but never spoiled, by suburban sprawl.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
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About the Author