Dia of the Dead

by Brinson, Brit

  “I know, right? I can’t wait to eat them.” She flipped a perfectly round golden brown pancake onto a plate.

  Mom didn’t think I knew but I’d wised up to her game a long time ago. She always made pancakes when she thought I was down or worried. The short stack she piled on a plate was to soften the blow of the party disaster. Mom handed me a knife and fork and joined me with a stack of pancakes of her own.

  I didn’t wait for her to get settled before I started eating. I demolished my pancakes before she could even add more syrup to hers. After she finished her stack, I opted to do two things I absolutely despised: wash the dishes and take Frank out to do his business.

  Helena Gardens was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. The place was usually bustling with people on Saturdays. The residents were either hurrying off to auditions or to the studio to film, but no one was to be found as Frank and I headed toward the elevator. The lobby was as empty as it was last night. Was the entire place still recovering from the party? One person who wasn’t resting up was Alicia. She sat at her desk looking like she’d seen better days. Instead of being preoccupied with her iPad, she just kind of stared out into space with tired eyes. I spoke to her as I passed. She grunted something then groaned. She must’ve had a long night. Frank tugged away from me, trying to get to the door. I didn’t have time to attempt any other pleasantries. Frank had to go and if I didn’t hurry, someone would have a puddle to clean up. I followed him outside. He found his favorite spot and took care of things quickly. When we came back inside, Alicia was gone. I hoped she was feeling okay.

  Frank was happy to be free of his leash and ran toward mom, hopping into her lap as she sat on the couch watching TV. With a stomach full of pancakes and a head a bit less full of worry, I went to shower and get dressed. I’d come to love my off days since it took a lot less time for me to get ready. I spent hours in Hair and Makeup as Katrina, Blake, and Jared worked on making me look like an undead high schooler. The zombification process was lengthy and the end result of all their hard work looked like they’d smeared a bit of gray paint on my face and added a long fake ponytail; Mr. Bixby didn’t want to frighten his target audience too much. But on days when I could be Dia Summers, not Dia Muerto, I opted for a pair of jeans, a vintage band tee, and a pair of Chucks. It was way more comfortable than the mobile sauna that was Dia Muerto’s black vinyl catsuit. It was cute but I sweated buckets every time I was in it. I let my hair do its own thing since I didn’t really feel like attempting to tame the curls, but I slipped a ponytail holder on my wrist just in case.

  Back in my room, I grabbed the script mom had given me last night and went to the front of the apartment to join her and Frank on the couch. At 2:40, mom left to get ready to head to the studio and Frank hopped off the couch to follow her. During their absence, every worry I had about Reagan, the show, and my future crept back into my head, leaving a knot of dread in my stomach. What if the show wasn’t renewed? What if auditioning for new roles didn’t go so well? What was I gonna do then? I tried not to panic, but I was doing a terrible job of keeping the “what-ifs” at bay.

  I was thankful for Mom’s return. She had a pair of large, round-framed glasses resting atop her bangs and a large tote bag dangling from her shoulder. She thought they made her look important.

  “Stop worrying,” she said sweetly. “We’ll get the news we want to hear. I know it.”

  I tried to flash a confident smile to match the one she wore but all I could manage was a twitch of my upper lip. I grabbed my satchel from one of the dining room chairs and checked it to make sure I had my phone and lip gloss. I dabbed a little on and tried that confident smile again.

  “It’ll be fine.” Mom gave me a comforting pat on the back and ushered me out the door.

  Mom locked Frank inside our apartment and pulled her sunglasses from her bangs and put them on—the first sign of the transition from mom to manager. We headed toward the parking garage where her black Range Rover waited.

  The ride from Helena Gardens was quick even with the traffic. Bixby Studios was like a fortress. All twelve buildings that housed the sets and offices were enclosed on three sides by cream stucco walls that were nearly impossible to climb. The main entrance was lined by a tall wrought iron fence adorned with ‘B’s. The fence broke in the center for a small building with two drives on either side. Each drive had gate arms that rose and fell to grant or deny access to and from the studio. It was the only way in and out.

  A group of loyal security guards occupied the building at all times. One of their duties was to check and record any and all persons entering or leaving the lot. Mom drove up to the gate stopping just before the black and white striped arm protecting the entrance from outsiders. Will, one of the younger security guards appeared at mom’s window to check for our parking pass. She rolled the window down.

  “Afternoon, Ms. Trish,” Will said with a wink and a nod.

  “Hello, Will.” Mom’s tone was so sweet, it could've attracted a whole hive of bees.

  “Here for the announcement?” he asked in his southern drawl.

  “Yes. Hoping it’s all good news. Have you heard anything?” She batted her lashes and smiled. Security was the eyes and ears of Bixby Studios. The guards patrolled the lot on an hourly basis and watched surveillance camera footage. They were privy to info that most people weren’t, and Ms. Trish found that you could be too, if you flirted with the cute guards.

  Will blushed. “Everyone’s been pretty tight lipped but I’m betting on good news.”

  “Thanks, Will.” She sounded disappointed.

  “I wish I could be of more help.”

  “You’ve helped,” Mom said.

  He smiled shyly. “I’ll quit holding you lovely ladies up and go’on ’n lift the gate.” He gave us another nod and went back inside the small building. The gate’s arm lifted and mom waved to Will as we rolled into Bixby Studios.

  “We have to go to building Twelve,” she said, reaching for her tote that rested at my feet.

  “Twelve? Hm. That’s odd.” I handed her the bag. “I didn’t know they were using Twelve again. It hasn’t been used since OMG!.”

  “I got an email this earlier saying the announcement would be made in Twelve at four. We better hurry.” She tapped the console’s display, indicating the time and turned the wheel, easing into our assigned parking space.

  It was six minutes to four. We got out of the car and hustled over to building Twelve.

  Every employee of The Bixby Network filled the stage that was once Maddie Charles’ bedroom. Even though the building hadn’t been used in the two years sinceOMG! ended its one hundred fifty episode run, not a single prop had been moved. I almost expected Maddie to burst through the door at stage left with some wacky plan to start a new adventure. But something would have been different about this episode. The lighting on the set was low, casting odd shadows on the fake room.

  Why were we meeting here and not the cafeteria where Mr. Bixby usually made announcements?

  Something wasn’t right.

  “I’m gonna go find Kaci,” I said, turning toward mom. “She probably already has the inside scoop.”

  I moved through the crowd, passing groups of people having quiet conversations and found Kaci standing near the edge of the stage. She wasn’t alone; Brendan, Taylor and—to my surprise—Amber Lao were with her. The four of them were caught up in conversation. Brendan smiled as I approached. I pretended not to notice since Taylor was there. Though she’d given me advice at the party, something in my gut told me I couldn’t quite trust her.

  “What happened to your arm?” I pointed at the white cloth bandage covering Amber’s arm. Kaci and Taylor’s heads turned in my direction. I probably should’ve started with “hello.”

  Amber looked down at the bandage with tired eyes. “A long story about a long night with Missy.”

  “Missy did that?” I asked.

  Amber looked at her bandage then back at me and sighed heavily. �
��Remember when Missy went all crazy last night?”

  “Yeah?” How could I forget?

  “Things went downhill from there. As soon as Missy got to the car, she refused to go to the hospital like I suggested. Instead, she wanted to go to Luxe. So we went. She flipped out there, getting into minor scrapes with a few people. We got kicked out and went to club after club—getting kicked out of all of them—until Missy finally decided it was time to turn in. Of course that was after she demanded we get something to eat at an all-night diner. When we finally made it back to her apartment at like nine this morning, she freaked. Clawing and scratching at me until she was able to bite me. Again. The damn thing won’t stop bleeding. No matter what I do.” She lifted her arm for us to see.

  Each of us looked sufficiently grossed out. Looking at the deep red stain blooming on the bandage made me a bit queasy. The wound seemed to be oozing, spreading across the cloth at a rate that wasn’t normal. I had to look away.

  “Did you go you the hospital to get it checked out?” I asked.

  “I didn’t get a chance to. Everything was so crazy. I came straight here because I was supposed to be meeting with Mr. Bixby to talk about developing a show for the network.”

  “I think you might need to skip the meeting and get that looked at,” I said.

  “You need a new bandage,” Kaci added.

  The rest of us agreed.

  “It wasn’t this bad when she first bit me,” Amber said looking at her arm. “She barely broke the skin.”

  “And now it’s almost like Carrie White’s prom dress. Does it hurt?” I asked.

  “What do you think? She bit me.”

  “Then you need help,” I said, ignoring her sarcasm and reached for her.

  She pulled away from me, clutching her arm to her chest protectively. “It hurts but I think I’ll be fine.”

  I decided to drop the subject. I knew Amber and Missy were friends, but if Amber wanted to get rabies, that was on her.

  The whispers in the room died down as the lights on the set brightened. I focused my attention on Maddie’s bedroom. A figure I immediately recognized as Mr. Bixby’s appeared off the side of the set. He strode out to its center in a tailored black suit, looking well put together as always.

  “Good evening, everyone.” Mr. Bixby didn’t waste any time getting started. The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

  “Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come here this afternoon.” He gave a nod to a few of those standing closest to him as he scanned the crowd. “I know you all were expecting an announcement about changes in the network’s line up but I’m afraid those will have to wait for another time.”

  Mr. Bixby looked out at us. “The Bixby Network prides itself on upholding traditional family values through family-friendly programming for people of all ages. I've worked toward creating a family-like atmosphere for all of my employees and to make this place a home away from home for all of you. I like to believe we’re family. And being family, I’ve gathered you here to share some rather somber news.” He paused, looking at us again.

  “I never thought there’d come a day when I would have to deliver news like this.” He cleared his throat and continued, “With a very heavy heart, I’m here to announce we’ve lost one of our own.”

  Whispers invaded the silence as people turned to one another to figure out who was missing. Mr. Bixby didn’t let the outbreak of conversations stop him from continuing, his voice a bit louder to accommodate the chatter. “Earlier this afternoon, Melissa Bolton passed away.”

  A chorus of gasps filled the room. I shook my head in disbelief. Missy Bolton was dead?

  FIVE

  Though Mr. Bixby tried to maintain his composure as he delivered the news, he told us that he’d learned of Missy’s death only an hour before we’d all gathered in building Twelve. He said he’d spoken to Missy’s family and received permission to share their loss with us—her “second family”—before the media got a hold of it. He thanked us for attending and stated filming would be on hold for the next three days in observance of Missy’s memory. News about renewals and cancellations was postponed as well. He asked that we extend our condolences to Missy’s loved ones and offer our support to those at Bixby who were close to her. The crowd was only quiet for a moment. As soon as Mr. Bixby left the set—his head down, wiping away a tear—the whispers began. Soon building Twelve was flooded with talk. I looked to Kaci, not sure what to make of what I’d just heard. Her mouth hung open, her eyes blinking rapidly. Taylor and Amber’s expressions were unreadable. My eyes fell on Brendan whose initial look of shock soon crumbled into a mix of confusion and sadness.

  I didn’t have any words of comfort to offer him. I was speechless. Instead, I took his hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze. Brendan had to be taking the news hard since he and Missy were friends. He looked down at me with a weary half-smileand gave my hand a squeeze in return. My heart ached looking at him. I’d rather Mr. Bixby announcedDia of the Dead didn’t make the cut than have to look at Brendan Baker’s sad, sad face.

  Kaci and Taylor stared at Brendan’s hand in mine. Kaci shot me a look of warning while Taylor tsked and shook her head. I dropped his hand. Amber let out a small whimper, her bottom lip quivering. It looked like the news was slowly dawning on her. Her expression grew more and more grief-stricken by the second until she broke.

  “Brendan!” she cried, tears trailing down her face. She threw herself at him—nearly knocking him onto the ground—and buried her face in his chest. I stepped aside to let him console her. They needed their space.

  Reactions throughout the room weren’t what I expected. Though Missy and I were strangers—despite her puking in front of me—I still felt a pang of sadness. As The Bixby Network’s star actress she had worked with many of the people in the room. I expected to see more reactions like Amber’s. She was still crying and muttering things through sniffles and sobs. Or at the very least a few somber expressions that showed they were a little bummed out by the whole thing. Instead, people were beginning to leave and those who didn’t were gathered in small circles, talking.

  The hushed conversations going on weren’t expressing concern or condolence. They were speculations about the cause of Missy’s demise. I knew she was a mess, but I couldn’t believe what I overheard. Someone talking near us said it was bound to happen sometime soon anyway. People shrugged off Missy’s death as if it were nothing.

  “Man, this is crazy,” a voice said behind me. I turned around to find Mason shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe Missy’s gone.”

  “I was just with her. She was okay when I left her. Well, okay for Missy,” Amber said through tears. She’d finally pulled herself away from Brendan, leaving smudges of black mascara on his shirt. “What could’ve happened?”

  “Who knows,” Taylor said, her voice lacking emotion.

  “We’ll find out soon. You know how these things go,” Brendan offered with a bit more empathy.

  “I’m going to find my mom,” I said suddenly feeling extraordinarily low.

  “Want me to go with you?” Kaci asked.

  “Nah. I can handle it on my own.” I put my hand up, stopping her from attempting to tag along.

  She took a step back. “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Try talking Amber into going to the hospital to get her arm looked at. The bandage is almost soaked through.” I pointed at Amber’s injured arm.

  I walked away from the group; my shoulders sagging from information overload and found my mom talking with a couple of other mom/managers near the exit. I interrupted their quiet conversation by tapping my mom on the shoulder.

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  She turned around. “Oh, Dia.” She grabbed me, hugging me tightly like it was the first time she’d seen me in ages. She pulled away and planted several kisses on my forehead and cheeks before hugging me again.

  “I can’t believe this news. Didn’t you ju
st see her last night at BB’s party?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said quietly.

  “That poor child. That poor, poor child.” She shook her head.

  “Dia.”

  I looked over my shoulder. Brendan Baker ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes shiny with tears and the tip of his nose a bit red. I turned around to face him fully.

  “A couple of us are going to Mason’s dressing room to hang out and remember Missy. Would you like to come?”

  “Uh…” I turned back to mom and asked for permission without using words, only facial expressions. From the looks I got from the other moms in the pack, I knew I looked ridiculous.

  “You can go,” Mom said.

  I mouthed a “thank you” to her and turned back to Brendan, trying not to sport an ear-to-ear smile since it’d be in bad taste.

  “But I need to talk to you quickly,” Mom added.

  “Brendan, I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit. Apparently I have to talk to my mom first.” I sighed.

  “Catch you later.”

  Brendan left and Mom said goodbye to the other momagers before scooting me off to the side to talk.

  “What’s this all about?” I asked.

  “Was that Benjamin?” Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

  “Brendan. And yes, that’s him.”

  “He’s cute.”

  The grin I’d been fighting, finally made an appearance on my face. I couldn’t help it.

  Mom’s face softened then hardened the next instant. “Be careful,” she warned.

  “What?”

  “Be careful,” she repeated and gave me a pat on the shoulder before turning to leave.

  “Wait, Mom. What?” I called after her.

  “Just be careful. Call me when you’re ready for me to come pick you up.” She tilted her head, lowering her glasses to peer at me for a second before putting them back into place and disappeared through the exit doors while I headed off to find my friends.

  Mason’s dressing room was located in building Six whereDia of the Dead was filmed. It was right across the hall from mine. The door was open when I arrived but it was oddly quiet. No loud music spilled into the hallway and there was no sound of electronic explosions and gunfire from the video games he usually played during long breaks. I hesitated outside for a moment, afraid of seeing a room full of people crying but I pushed myself to enter.