"Not a pair of Rossi's? That's a real crime," said Cambria. "You should sue whoever did that."
If only, Cam-Cam, I thought. If only.
* * *
The Black Pine Police front desk dispatcher knew me by sight. Not because of my former TV career. She also knew Nash. We'd done this before. She greeted our fame with a head shake. Without bothering to rise from her seat, she rolled her desk chair to the other side of her small compartment and hollered out the door for Detective Mowry.
I sat on a plastic chair bolted to the floor and watched Nash pace the lobby. "You think I'm crazy. Or you think I'm delirious. Or—"
Nash halted before me. "Not crazy or delirious. You saw something. But you jump to conclusions too easily. Conclusions that led me to cash in a favor."
"Detective Mowry's super nice. I'm sure he'll understand. Although I still can't explain what I saw."
"Do you know how much paperwork this will be for him?" Nash raised his brows. "If anyone needs to be nice, it's you to Mowry."
"How nice?" I scooted back on my chair. "What kind of nice are we talking about?"
"That's the conclusion jumping that'll get you in trouble." Nash resumed pacing.
The far door opened and Mowry beckoned us through.
"Hey Miss Albright," said Mowry. "How're you feeling? Your head still hurt?"
"I'm sorry. I don't understand what happened. I know what I saw, but Cambria is alive and well."
"Very well," said Nash.
I shot him an irritated look. "Anyway, I'm going to meet her for a morning workout. I'll be keeping an eye on her."
"I guess that's alright," said Mowry. "I'm not sure what to tell you either. I've seen some strange stuff in my career. There are some folks' windows you just don't want to go looking into."
"Particularly these TV folks," said Nash. "Exactly what I was thinking, Mowry. This Cambria seems like she's into some kinky stuff."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Film equipment, nude, and appearing dead." Nash paused. "Unless that doesn't fit kinky these days? You're the Hollywood expert. I don't know what all goes on there."
"I'm not an expert on kink. I mean, I've met some freaks in my time — not judging — all lovely people. Sort of. But it's not like we swapped stories in therapy. Not those kind of stories anyway."
"Therapy?" said Mowry.
I sucked in a deep breath and focused on absorbing positive energy. Therapy in Black Pine did not have the same meaning as therapy in LA. Mowry was going to think I was crazy.
"In any case, I need you to detail what you saw, check the transcription, and sign the report," said Mowry. "I'll file it and we can forget about this."
I'd file but not forget. There were some things you can never get out of your head.
Seven
#BreakfastofChampions #GrilltheGirl
The next morning, I woke thinking of dead Cambria, alive Cambria, and Jerry. I felt concern for Cambria — both alive and dead — but Jerry had given me nightmares. He was going to kick my ass when he saw my muffin top, donut butt, and fried okra boobs. Literally, kick my ass with a kick boxing regime or whatever newest exercise craze was currently sweeping Tinseltown. And then he was going to make me shut off my hydrogenated oil intake and fill me up with colonics and juicing.
Probably all kelp. The new kale.
I wandered from my bedroom to the cabin's spacious kitchen and found my spot at the pine slab table. Carol Lynn — Daddy's second wife and the one he should have started with except I would not have been born otherwise — had made a simple breakfast of grits, eggs (fried), sausage patties, biscuits, and pineapple slices. Carol Lynn was the sweetest woman in the world and the secondary cause of the ill fit to my Black Pine wardrobe (the first cause being my lack of self-control). My half-sister Remi, six going on sixty-three, did not have this problem. Remi had inherited Daddy's stubbornness and someone else's metabolism. She was a spindly little thing. Daddy was built like a Mack truck with a full head of white-flecked auburn hair that fell to the base of his neck in a heavy beard. I inherited his copper highlights and unfortunate frame. Big bones looked better with a beard than boobs.
"Carol Lynn, thank you for fixing pineapple." I gazed longingly at the sausage and grits but forked a piece of fruit. "Jerry, my trainer, said fruit is good for breakfast because it's a natural detoxifier. Jerry loved detoxifying."
"You look healthy enough," said Daddy, eyeballing me from over his paper. "But if you're worried, maybe cover yourself some more."
I glanced at my Zobha tank and yoga leggings. True, the loose singlet tank had a racerback cutout, but that was the point when you wore an edgy twist-back sports bra beneath it. Plus, it was high-low cut to provide muffin top coverage. I thought about borrowing a sweatshirt, but I did not own a sweatshirt. Carol Lynn's sweatshirts were DeerNose brand, Daddy's line of hunting apparel. Cambria could forgive the camo, but wouldn't forgive me the scent. Deer pee. Great for hunting, but you don't want to sweat in it. The stench might drive Cambria to a morning vodka mixer.
"What's detoxifying?" asked Remi, reaching for the pineapple.
"It flushes out all the bad stuff in your body."
"Makes you tee-tee," said Daddy. "Remi, you're about as big as my little finger. You got no more bad stuff in you than that biscuit you're not eating. Everyone pees out water without this silliness. Eat your breakfast."
"I think Carol Lynn's biscuits are impossible not to eat," I said helpfully. "I used to dream about these biscuits back in LA. I think the fat content could be illegal there."
Remi scowled at the biscuit and took a bite of pineapple.
"No more talk about fat content, Maizie. Remi, eat your eggs," said Daddy. "Nobody worth their salt only eats pineapple for breakfast. You'll wither away by ten o'clock."
"I wish that were true," I said sadly. "But you do have a point. If I have to work out with Cambria this morning, I'm going to need the extra stamina."
Carol Lynn pushed the bowl of grits toward me.
I gave in and added sausage and a biscuit to my pineapple. Then pretended not to notice Remi shoving a hunk of biscuit under the table. At her feet one of many Jack Russell terriers waited for their second breakfast. They loved Remi even more than we did.
"Who's this Cambria now?" said Daddy from behind his newspaper. "New friend?"
"Sort of an old friend. She's going to star in an upcoming movie, and we were hired to watch her."
The paper folded and Daddy studied me. "Hired to watch her do what?"
"Hopefully not get into trouble." I gave him my winsome TigerBeat smile. "The movie production's insurance company wants an eye on her."
"That sounds like trouble for you." Daddy frowned at me, then at the bowl of pineapple Carol Lynn passed him. "Is your probation officer okay with you doing work like this?"
I hadn't forgotten about the "no celebrity work" clause of my probation, but I hadn't figured working for celebrities would be an issue.
I hoped.
"I'm sure it's fine. This is pure security work. Like a bodyguard who hides the liquor bottles and refuses calls from dealers." And made sure the star wasn't doing kinky snuff films on the side. "Easy peasy."
"Work that's worthwhile is never easy," said Daddy. "I thought you were doing some sort of accounting at Nash's."
"It's really boring and I'm not an accountant." I let his look slide over me and countered with an encouraging Girl's Life grin. "Daddy, I know you worry, but I didn't study criminal justice at So Cal just to do Nash's bookkeeping."
"Bookkeeping pays bills," said Daddy. "It may not be as exciting as a television shoot, but it keeps you out of the papers."
"Television shoots are not exciting either. It's a lot of waiting around for light and sound and then five minutes of frenetic energy only to find that the writers decided to change the scene." I pushed out of my chair. "Almost as boring as babysitting an actress whose lifestyle choices have become a career liability."
B
ut that was a lie. I had a feeling Cambria's rumored escapades would keep me on my toes.
"Just remember, you were once an actress whose lifestyle choices had become a career liability. And look where that landed you. Almost in prison."
I delivered my Teen Vogue winky face. "Horse shoes and hand grenades, Daddy."
A phone rang, delivering a reprieve from another Boomer Spayberry lecture. Carol Lynn rose from the table, but Remi had already slid off the bench, crawled under the table, and popped out the other side. She hot-footed across the kitchen, the pack of dogs circling her feet, and grabbed the cordless.
It was so quaint how Daddy and Carol Lynn still used actual phones.
"Spayberry," she spat in the phone.
Beneath her, the dogs hopped and howled.
Remi cut a line across her throat, silencing the pack. They dropped to her feet and rolled on to their backs. Leaving the dogs to play dead, she traipsed across the kitchen, handing the phone to me. "It's for y'all."
I offered a hesitant hello, fearing Leonard Shackleton had called to tell me Cambria had actually died and we’d dined with a ghost. Or to ask me on a date.
"Honey, it's a fabulous day," drawled Theodore. "How'd it go with Mr. Shackleton? I heard y'all had dinner last night with the crew of Pine Hollow. I assume our trick did the trick?"
"Pine Hollow? That's the title?" How did Theodore know the name of the film when everyone was sworn to secrecy?
"Remi, let those dogs up and get back in your seat," growled Daddy. "I know you haven't eaten anything but a bit of that pineapple. Kindergartners need to eat breakfast. It's the law."
"No, it ain't," she muttered but slid on to the bench. She sidled close to me and cocked her ear near the phone.
"That's the big movie, right? Ancient secrets in the Appalachians or something like that?" said Theodore. "And Ed Farmer's directing. How was he? Amazing or scary? He's so aloof."
"Amazingly aloof." I climbed off the bench and took my sausage biscuit onto the back porch. "I'm working out with Cambria this morning."
"At Vicki Albright's place. Yes, I know all about that. I also heard you finished dinner at Black Pine police department. Do tell."
"How do you know all this stuff?"
"It's a small town, my dear. At least for some of us. People watch. They listen. They talk. What else are we going to do in Black Pine? There's only so many golf tournaments and yacht regattas to attend. We have to fill our time in between." Theodore paused. "Speaking of parties, I'm having one this weekend."
"I remember my promise. I'm happy to go."
"Of course, sweetie. But I wondered if you could bring a plus one."
"Nash?"
Theodore laughed. "You are such a hoot, Maizie. Wyatt Nash at one of my parties?"
"I'm not dating anyone." Unless the Black Pine grapevine had guessed Leonard Shackleton's interest in me. "I'm seriously not dating anyone. Particularly industry-related people."
"I was hoping you'd bring Cambria."
"I could ask her to come along." Another thought struck me. "Have you heard anything about Cambria? Do you know who she's dating?"
"I thought you were straight."
"Not for me. I'm going to be hanging out with her, and I want to avoid awkwardness." I chewed biscuit, thinking. "Actually, I'm just digging for gossip."
Theodore laughed. "Is it gossip when we're talking about a celebrity? Isn't that considered news? I don't know who Cambria's dating. But according to the news, she's sown plenty of oats. She goes through men like I do shoes."
"I thought maybe she brought someone to Black Pine. Or met someone in Black Pine. Do you know who she was with yesterday, for example?"
"It sounds like she was after Wyatt Nash. But he left with you, didn't he? What's going on there? Tit for tat, girl."
"Absolutely nothing is going on there." Unfortunately. "We just work together."
"And the police station? Y'all went together."
"We just had to file a report. For work. Nothing exciting." Unfortunately. Well, more like luckily.
"I see." Theodore paused. "I don't know what Cambria was doing yesterday. She breakfasted at the Cove, of course. I think someone saw her in the gym, but she disappeared later. Probably working. Sorry, sweetie. But y'all have fun at your workout today. I heard your momma has quite the gym."
"Vicki really believes the body is a temple."
"We all know Vicki Albright has a goddess complex." Theodore giggled at my snort.
"I have no idea why Vicki invited us. I mean, she's always after me to get gym fit, but Cambria?"
"Vicki's not a Cambria fan?"
"She knew her back in the day. Back in the day, any female within ten years of my age was competition. And Vicki likes to stick to first impressions. She's not much for change."
"Oh sweetie, good luck. What are you wearing?"
I grinned. "Zobha."
"Cambria favors Lily Lotus. But you're going to out-sexy her in that Zobha. You have the curves that make the boys sigh."
"Thank you." I sniffled and pressed my fist against my heart. Unfortunately squeezing the sausage biscuit into a mangled pulp in the process. "You know just the right things to say."
"Oh honey, I only speak the truth. I heard you ruined a gorgeous pair of Gianvito Rossi sandals last night. I'm sorry."
"It's been so long since I felt someone really understood me." I choked on my words. "I promise to look fabulous for your party."
"Of course, you will. I'm counting on it."
* * *
As Lucky was only a dirt bike given to me by Daddy on my fourteenth birthday and not a full fledged motorcycle (let alone a vehicle with sides and a roof), I couldn't drive Cambria to Vicki's. Instead, I parked Lucky at Black Pine resort and Dahlia, Cambria, and I rode in Vicki's Escalade, driven by Vicki's driver.
While enjoying the smooth, hair-friendly ride, I proceeded with my plan. First to warm Cambria with friendly banter, then question her ruthlessly about finding her allegedly dead on the floor of her bedroom. Ruthlessly nice. Because I did not want to get fired on the second day.
Also, in a way as to not alert Dahlia, whom I suspected was much smarter than she acted. Which was the problem with actresses.
"What kind of workout are you doing?" I asked. "Are you bulking up for an action role?"
"Ed Farmer wants me wiry," said Cambria. "Lean, like I work hard all day and don't get enough to eat. Lots of weights. Total cave man diet. But it's not a cave man role. Kind of Winter's Bone meets Aliens."
"Me, too," said Dahlia. "So cool."
"Wow." My imagination had difficulty joining redneck noir and space scifi. "If anybody could put that together it's Leonard Shackleton. And Ed Farmer."
"I know, right?" said Dahlia.
Cambria yawned and fiddled with the straw on her shake.
I eyeballed her shake. I also had my narc job to fulfill. "Can I taste that?"
She handed me the bottle. I sniffed, tasted, grimaced, and handed it back.
"I know," she said. "I promised my trainer to drink this. It's supposed to be awesome for your workout. Guarana yerba maté matcha. You should get some."
"Totally." I shuddered. "I'm going old school with my pre-workout drink."
"Like a protein shake?"
"Water."
"Wow, so retro," said Dahlia. "What kind?"
"Tap."
"I don't know that brand. Is it new?"
I shook my head. Daddy didn't believe in "purchasing what God gives out for free."
"What does your boyfriend like to drink?" I asked, hoping to lead her into chatting about last night’s incident. “Who is he again?”
"Boyfriend?" Cambria snorted. "Are we still in high school? I don't limit myself to outmoded monikers like that. It represents our societal failure to recognize relationships beyond marriage. And don't get me started on marriage."
"How about bae?" said Dahlia.
Cambria rolled her eyes.
This was the
Cam-Cam I remembered. Overcomplicating and overanalyzing everything. I was reminded why we hadn't meshed as teens. She never chilled. “Significant other?"
"Ed Farmer?" mumbled Dahlia.
"Get real," said Cambria.
Hmm, I thought, but said, "Anyway, tell me about your parts in Pine Hollow."
"How do you know the title? Did Leonard tell you?" said Dahlia. "It's supposed to be a secret. Sort of. I mean, they leaked it to a few sites so some reporter wouldn't make up a better title and confuse the public when we announced it for real. But for now, they're sticking to 'Ed Farmer's newest sci-fi-fantasy box office hit.'"
I shrugged, preferring to keep Theodore's gossip pipeline to myself. "Speaking of secrets, I heard you're doing another film, Cam-Cam."
She gave me a sideways glance as she sucked down her berry leaf shake.
"A lower-budget production?" I hinted.
Her straw squelched, and she came up for air. "Did Alvin mention an indie last night? I've been waiting to hear about casting."
"No. Lower-budget than an indie?"
"What's lower-budget than an indie?" She tapped her thermos. "Oh wait, like a YouTube production?"
"Maybe." I studied Cambria. Either she was a much better actress than I thought. Or she didn't know about the cottage movie industry that had been in her cottage. "Where were you yesterday? Did you spend any time at the resort?"
"A little. I don't know. Around."
"I hiked Black Pine Mountain yesterday morning,” said Dahlia. "It has spectacular views for such a small mountain."
Nodding, I ignored our third wheel and honed in on Cam-Cam. "Around your cabin? Or around somewhere else? Listen, I saw something when I went to your cottage that disturbed me. Do you know what I'm saying? I'd like an explanation of what I saw. I can't shake it."
"I know what you're doing, Maizie." Cambria shoved the thermos in the door caddy and crossed her arms.
"I just want to help you, Cam-Cam. I'm worried."
"You want back in."
Dahlia squealed.
I tensed. "I do not want back in. And I can't work in show biz anyway. I'm on probation."
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