Absolutely True Lies

by Rachel Stuhler

  “Hello?” There was foreign chattering on the other end of the line, and after a few seconds, Vaughn thrust the phone at Ben without making eye contact. “Here.”

  “Ciao,” Ben answered. “Qualche notizie?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vaughn mimic the words. Jamie stared at Ben from a few feet away, waiting for a facial expression that might betray the tone of the conversation, but every piece of information Ben received was met with only a thoughtful furrowed brow.

  “Sì, ho capito. . . . Dove?” He listened quietly, nodding to himself a few times. “Grazie. . . . Arrivederla.” Ben carefully replaced the phone, then seemed to consider what he’d just heard.

  “Jesus, Benji,” Jamie exclaimed. “Just tell us what’s going on.”

  Ben threw me a nervous look, and I knew he didn’t relish having to share whatever piece of information he’d just learned. Oh, God, I thought. What if she’s dead?

  The truth was far less disturbing, but in the grand scheme of things, just as salacious. “Um . . .” Ben hesitated. “Well . . . they found Daisy.”

  “Where?” Vaughn demanded, just as angry with Ben as if he’d been responsible for kidnapping Daisy and holding her for ransom.

  “She’s in jail.”

  CHAPTER 15

  I don’t remember life before Hollywood, and that can be scary sometimes. Because literally all I know in this world is what it means to be famous, both the good parts and the bad. I don’t really understand what people do in offices all day or how hard it is to be a construction worker. If my career suddenly ended tomorrow—and I know it could—I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do next. The way people disappear from this business, I don’t even know if there is a next.

  It was 7:00 A.M. before anyone was permitted to have contact with Daisy. By then, Ben and I had gone back to our respective rooms, and while I can’t speak for him, I was fast asleep. So I was nothing short of livid when my phone rang just before 8:00.

  “Sorry to wake you,” Vaughn said, not sounding sorry.

  “What do you want?” I groaned, burying my head in my pillow. I was already perfectly aware that the Rome episode was probably dead, and that meant we would all likely be sent back to L.A. in the next twenty-four hours. I desperately needed sleep if I was going to endure another daylong journey around the world.

  “Can you come to the police station in Porta Maggiore?” he asked, sounding exhausted. “You have every right to say no, but I could really use your help right now.”

  If they thought I was dragging another ten bottles of vodka down to a police station, these nutbags had another thing coming. “And why would I do that, Vaughn?”

  “Because Daisy says she won’t talk to anyone but you. And the officials won’t let us see her without her permission.”

  Daisy didn’t really think I was one of her best friends, did she? Because that made less than no sense. We had only been working together for a month, and in that period, we’d spoken maybe a dozen times. I was an acquaintance, to be sure, but nothing more than that.

  “Seriously? Why does she want to talk to me?”

  “I don’t know, Holly. All I do know is that I have to finish shooting this episode and I only have two days’ worth of scenes without Daisy.”

  “You’re going to finish?”

  “We don’t have a choice. We’ve spent four million dollars on this two-parter. If we come back without enough footage to air, we’re all canned.”

  I flopped on my back, wishing like hell that I’d never called Jamie Lloyd in the first place. Smitty and I would be destitute and living in Griffith Park, but that seemed preferable to this ridiculous circus. “Fine. Let me throw on some clothes and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “God, I love you,” Vaughn replied.

  It took all my energy not to tell him to shut the hell up.

  • • •

  Daisy was a tiny little girl, but curled up on the jail cell’s cot, she looked like a doll. A damaged, strung out doll. When they announced my presence, she didn’t even look up, nodding into her folded-up knees and murmuring “okay” in a childlike voice.

  I crept into the cell with trepidation, still not sure what I was doing here. For Daisy’s sake, I hoped she was unaware of the insanity taking place outside the police station, even though I could faintly hear the shouting from inside. Word of Daisy’s arrest had quickly leaked to the press, and now everyone was out for blood. Including the police themselves. They had refused to release her for forty-eight hours, despite Jamie’s protestation that she had so much work left to do, she wasn’t the slightest flight risk.

  “Hi, Holly Bear,” Daisy said quietly, still with her head buried against her knees.

  There wasn’t anywhere else to sit inside the tiny cell, so I found a place on the cot, situating myself as far away from her as I could. I didn’t have the first clue what I was supposed to say.

  “How are you doing, Daisy?”

  Her shoulders moved up and down in a shrug, but she didn’t answer or look up. This was going to be even more difficult than I had anticipated.

  “Vaughn said you wanted to see me?”

  There was a long pause before she finally replied, “I’m in trouble.”

  “I know.” The police had caught Daisy outside a local hotel, snorting cocaine with a group of local teenagers. To make matters worse, she had enough in her purse that she could be charged with intent to sell. Jamie was still trying to work out how these matters were dealt with in Italy, but it wasn’t looking good.

  There was another drawn-out silence before Daisy picked up her head and gave me a wounded look. With the lines of anxiety creasing her face (not to mention the substances in her body), she appeared to be older than her mother. The change was nothing short of shocking.

  “They all know, right?”

  I nodded. “Jamie, Vaughn, and your mother are all here. I’m sure the other producers will know soon, too, if they don’t already.”

  Daisy shook her head, then cocked it toward the little window above the bed. “I meant the people outside. You know, everybody.”

  I almost wondered if I should lie to her, just to get her through however long she had to be in this room. Also, I was concerned about her reaction, as I didn’t particularly want to get punched in the face, especially not on my measly three hours’ sleep. But despite her many, many flaws, she deserved better than all the lies she was constantly being fed.

  “It’s all over the news,” I admitted. “And it’s just about prime time in L.A., so I’m sure they’ve heard about it over there, too.”

  Daisy considered this information, nodding. She unfurled her body a little and leaned back against the wall. I could tell just by her facial expression that a sea change had occurred overnight. Gone was the bratty little teenager; before me sat the seasoned Hollywood veteran. “There’s no such thing as prime-time news anymore. I’m sure one of the gossip sites had it up within fifteen minutes of my arrest. Besides, it’s not like my fans watch the news.” She paused, then laughed humorlessly. “Not that I’ll have many fans left after this.”

  “Why did you do it?” It was a question I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t stop myself. If she understood the ramifications of her actions, I wanted to understand why she was willing to throw everything away.

  Daisy’s gaze was nothing short of chilling. When she stared back at me, her eyes looked dead, soulless. I didn’t know where the bright, bubbly adolescent had gone, but I wanted her back. I would even take the screaming, cussing demon-child over the still, hollow shell of a person. This version of Daisy was terrifying.

  “I told them what I needed and they didn’t listen. Jamie’s been giving me pills since I was thirteen. You can’t just take those things away from me and think I’ll still be Pollyanna.”

  I was surprised Daisy knew who
Pollyanna was. “What sorts of pills?”

  Daisy shrugged. “I have hundreds of them with hundreds of different names. Amphetamines, painkillers, muscle relaxers, barbiturates, benzodiazepines. For a while I was even taking ketamine just so that I could sleep.”

  “Isn’t ketamine used in animal anesthesia?” I asked, horrified. I wouldn’t even know where to get a drug like that. And I’d never heard of benzodiazepines.

  “Yeah, but they use it on people with serious spinal injuries and stuff. I looked it up once.”

  I wanted to point out (but didn’t) that there’s a big difference between spinal damage and a bout with insomnia. This girl was so warped I wasn’t even sure she would understand my objection. For about the millionth time since I’d started this job, I was overwhelmed with a rush of loathing for Jamie. I was also pretty angry at Faith, but I was inclined to believe she just didn’t know any better.

  “I know they didn’t bring that suitcase on purpose,” Daisy continued, sighing. “When we were packing, Jamie tried to convince me to hide all the pills inside clothes pockets and shoes. When we flew back from Nice, a customs guy wanted to know who they were all for, and Jamie made some excuse about how Axel was our ‘medic’ and he wanted to hold on to everyone’s prescriptions to avoid ODs. We got away with it, but Jamie’s been nuts about that ever since.”

  “Didn’t all the bottles have your name on them?”

  Daisy gave me a sympathetic smile that reminded me of all the condescending little looks I’d given her in the last month. “Of course not. No one doctor would be stupid enough to write me four scripts for Adderall. You go to a bunch of doctors and give them all fake names. I’ve got tons of ’em, from Lulu St. James to Nancy Bennett.”

  I suddenly found all of that sympathy I hadn’t been able to summon for Daisy over the long, tense night. All this time, I had assumed she was gaming the system in every way imaginable, but I was too naïve to realize that she was the one being used and abused. And even though she didn’t possess an ounce of book smarts, she was savvy enough to recognize that she meant nothing more to these people than a paycheck.

  “What can I do for you?” I couldn’t think of a single way I could help her out of this mess, but I was willing to try. I was certain I’d hate her guts again just a few minutes after she was freed from jail, but for the moment, I felt a certain camaraderie.

  “Nothing. You’re the only one who doesn’t want something from me. I wanted to talk to one real person before I have to put on my weepy face and pretend I’m sorry.”

  “What do you mean I don’t want anything from you? I’m getting paid to be here.” If I hadn’t been hired to be nice to Daisy, I doubt I would have exchanged two pleasant words with her.

  Daisy rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Oh, Holly, you don’t have a clue how to use people. It wouldn’t even occur to you.”

  She was right, but that didn’t make it any less shocking that she knew it. Up until this conversation, I didn’t think Daisy paid any attention to the people around her. I didn’t validate her answer only because I knew I didn’t need to.

  “What do you think will happen?” I couldn’t imagine winding up in a prison in a foreign country.

  “It’ll be fine, I swear. Jamie will get them to ‘lose’ the evidence and I’ll get a slap on the wrist. We’ll finish the dumb episode and Nick will air the rest of this season before they cancel me because I’m ‘considering college’ or a movie career. They’ll really want me dead, but won’t want to admit that their star is a coke fiend. Then Jamie and my dad will bleed me dry for ten years until I’m old enough to sell jewelry on QVC.”

  Nothing about that sounded fine. I also couldn’t believe Daisy had thought about any of these things and that she was probably spot-on.

  “You can send the rest of the idiots in here,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’m ready to get back into character.”

  “Sure.” I stood up and crossed to the door, where a guard was waiting to let me out. Before I got into the hallway, Daisy called after me.

  “I know this is gonna sound retarded, and I totally have bigger things to think about, but I don’t understand why you don’t just nail Vaughn already. You totally want to.”

  I turned and looked back at her in astonishment, unable to hide a smile. “Because if someone wants me, he shouldn’t toy around with me. It’s all or nothing.”

  “Cool,” she said, smiling back.

  “You’ve known his name was Vaughn all along, haven’t you?”

  Daisy laughed. And not her cutesy little giggle; it was an honest, genuine laugh. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I just like that it drives him bananas.”

  “Cool,” I said.

  • • •

  At ten o’clock that morning, I was seated next to Vaughn in a tiny street café. A glut of pastries was spread out before us, but neither of us had yet touched anything but the coffee. And we’d already had plenty of that.

  We’d done all we could for Daisy, which was remarkably little. She had begged for a chocolate donut, so I’d found her the closest approximation the neighborhood had to offer. As I’d passed the small bag through the bars, I also suddenly understood her radical change of heart about food. As long as she was on the amphetamines, she had no appetite at all, and the steady diet of tomatoes and onions was more of a habit than a desire; once off those medications, she was starving twenty-four hours a day.

  We left Jamie and Faith to plead for her release or quick judgment, and Vaughn wanted to find food before the delayed start of their filming day finally began. Daisy wouldn’t be there, but Vaughn said he had to shoot something, even if it was only birds landing on lampposts. As for me, I just wanted to get out of that police station. After hearing what had been done to Daisy for the last eight years, I felt like I needed a Silkwood radiation shower.

  “I need to look for a new job,” Vaughn said, poking a custard-­filled pastry until the filling oozed out the side.

  “Or you could pursue directing,” I suggested. “I’m willing to bet that after six years, you have a little money stashed away.”

  He turned and stared at me, but it didn’t really seem like he was looking at me so much as in my general direction. “Honestly, even after all of my time in the industry, I don’t know how people become directors. I’m not the least bit qualified.”

  “I think you’re searching for an excuse,” I told him. I knew from experience that it was much easier to simply not try than to try and fail.

  But Vaughn shook his head vehemently, as deep in denial as I had been for the last couple of years. “I’m not like you. I can’t just take it on faith that if I shoot something, an audience will magically appear.”

  “And that’s your loss,” I said, trying to keep my tone firm but not harsh. “If you want to spend the rest of your life as a glorified babysitter, I’m sure you can get another job exactly like this one.”

  “They’re talking about giving Colby his own spin-off.” He said this like the network was thinking about going into the dogfighting business.

  I certainly did feel bad for Vaughn and the entire crew, knowing that their fountain of riches was likely about to run dry. But for them, there would be other jobs. I wasn’t quite so confident Daisy would come out of this unscathed.

  “What about you?” Vaughn asked. “I mean, it’s not like this autobiography is going to be the tween sensation Jamie had hoped. What’s going to happen to your job?”

  Though I hadn’t vocalized my concern, I’d been worried about losing my job ever since we’d discovered Daisy had been arrested. There probably wasn’t much of a market for the book now, and I didn’t exactly feel great about the fact that I still couldn’t cash that enormous check. Part of me wanted to FedEx it home to Camille along with my bank card and have her deposit it before Jamie could change his mind and cancel it.

  “I
don’t know,” I said. “But we’re being really selfish here. Our jobs may be in jeopardy, but we can get new ones. Daisy may not be so lucky.”

  “How can you possibly feel sorry for her?”

  “Because she’s eighteen years old with an unlimited bank account and no one to teach her right from wrong,” I replied.

  Vaughn shook his head and began tearing up little pieces of pastry and dropping them back on the plate. He wasn’t interested in Daisy’s problems right now, only that he’d have to be the one to clean them up. Or at least, try. This debacle had very likely already gone past the point of no return.

  “What a town without pity can do . . .” I needed to go back to sleep. The world was starting to take on a hazy, unreal quality, and I knew that no decision I made under these circumstances would be the right one. “I’m going to head back to the hotel to take a nap. And you should take a shower before work, you smell like sweaty boy.”

  I’ve personally never minded that odor, but I figured the rest of the crew might. Not to mention, it was probably unprofessional to show up to work unkempt. Then again, Vaughn appeared to be right—a film set really is a lot like a monkey house. . . . This one seemed to be a place where pretty much anything went.

  Vaughn turned and stared at me for a few seconds, with that strange, blank expression I still hadn’t figured out. He was so social and, well, talkative that I couldn’t imagine what was going on inside his head that couldn’t be readily translated into words. This was one of his main differences from Ben; Vaughn talked constantly but often said little, while Ben used words sparingly and to much greater effect. It was like Vaughn lacked the ability to be straightforward. It was maddening. “You’re right,” he said finally.

  He took out a wad of euros and threw a few down on the table without counting, then stood up. I followed along behind him and noticed that Vaughn didn’t say another word, even out on the street.