When Bryce finally called for lunch break, it was nearly one. She dragged herself over to the catering tent and was picking at a salad when CeeJay slid onto the chair opposite hers.
“Hey,” Greer said wearily.
“Wow,” CeeJay said, dipping a carrot into a cup of hummus. “I really love what you’ve done with yourself today.”
“Which do you like best—the hair that looks like dryer lint or the giant bags under my eyes?”
“Why don’t you come over to the makeup tent and let me fix you up a little?” CeeJay asked. “You truly look like one of those celebrity police booking photos from The Smoking Gun.”
“I don’t have the energy,” Greer said. “But I notice Kregg looks remarkably refreshed and well rested. Unlike me.”
“Thanks,” CeeJay said, preening a little. “But looks can be deceiving. I used about a pound of Preparation H on his eye bags, and lots of eyedrops too.”
“What did Bryce have to say about Kregg’s exploits last night?” Greer asked.
“He was frothing at the mouth after he got off the phone with you,” CeeJay said. “Then he put in a call to Anita and things really got ugly.”
“That’s Kregg’s mom?”
“Momager,” CeeJay said. “The woman lends new meaning to the phrase ‘control freak.’ She’s absolutely vile. She was threatening to fly down here and sic her lawyers on the Cypress Key cops, but Bryce basically told her if she showed up he’d have her banned from the set.”
“Did Bryce have words with Kregg?”
“Oh yes,” CeeJay said. “They had a come-to-Jesus first thing, but I don’t know what was discussed.”
“Must have worked,” Greer mused. She looked at her phone, saw the time, and stood. “Back to the grindstone.”
* * *
Late in the day, between shots, Greer happened to glance back toward the beach and spied a lone figure sitting in the shade of an umbrella on Ginny Buckalew’s porch.
She walked toward the porch, expecting to see the motel manager sneaking a smoke break, but was surprised to encounter Allie Thibadeaux, staring intently out at the beach from between some palm fronds.
“Hi, Allie,” Greer said, as she reached the porch railing.
“Oh, hey,” the girl said. “Is it okay for me to be sitting here? Am I in the way or something?”
“Not at all. Have you been watching long?”
“All afternoon. It’s really cool, huh? I can’t hear anything from here, but that’s okay.”
“Some days it’s cooler than others,” Greer said. “I guess you’re a Kregg fan like every other girl on the planet, right?”
“He’s okay,” Allie said. “I’m a huge Adelyn fan. I’ve seen Carry Me probably twenty times. I like her other movies a lot too, but that’s my favorite. I can’t believe she didn’t even get nominated for an Oscar for that.”
“I like Carry Me, too, but it was only her second movie, and the subject matter was a little dark for the Academy,” Greer confided. “I’m surprised you even know about that movie.”
“It’s so cool that you’re making a movie in Cypress Key. I can’t even believe Adelyn Davis ate dinner at the Inn last night. I was totally geeking out when she walked in.”
Greer was touched by the girl’s enthusiasm. “Well, if you’re really that interested, you’re welcome to come on down to the set.” She pointed toward one of several blue tents set up close to the water’s edge. “I’ve got a chair under the tent down there, but I’m not really using it today.”
The girl jumped up from her chair. “Really? Oh my God! That would be so awesome.”
“Come on around,” Greer said, indicating the gate that led from the patio to the beach.
* * *
Allie trailed her across the sand to the tent where Bryce and his assistant were peering at the screen of a laptop, watching the footage that had just been shot.
“Sit here,” Greer said, indicating a folding wooden and canvas director’s chair with “Crew” screen printed on the back.
“Joe,” she told one of the P.A.s who was standing nearby, “This is Allie. She’s my guest, if that’s okay.”
“Sure thing,” Joe said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Greer leaned down to give the girl instructions. “Just keep quiet and don’t talk to anybody unless they talk to you, and you’ll be fine. Okay?”
The girl nodded and beamed her appreciation.
“And if you get hungry or thirsty, go on up to the catering tent,” Greer said. “Help yourself. If anybody asks, just tell him you’re my guest.”
Allie’s eyes widened. “You’re sure it’s all right?”
“Perfectly sure.”
* * *
The afternoon seemed endless, but whenever Greer glanced toward the blue tent she saw Allie’s slight figure, bent over in her chair, intently watching the cameramen and lighting and sound techs.
Shortly after five, Bryce called it a wrap for the day. Greer still had a production meeting with the art director and set designer. When she dragged herself back to her motel room two hours later, she nearly nodded off to sleep in the shower.
She’d just dressed in shorts and a ratty T-shirt, and was trying to decide between a microwaved burrito and a microwaved Hot Pocket, when there was a timid knock at her door. Allie Thibadeaux looked almost surprised when Greer opened the door.
“Hi, um, Ginny wondered if maybe you would want to eat dinner with us. She said it’s just baked chicken, and I said you probably wouldn’t come, and she said I should ask anyway.…” The teenager’s words came rushing out in a torrent.
“I’d love to have dinner with you,” Greer said, laughing. “Can it wait until I change clothes?”
“You don’t have to change. Ginny and me are dressed crummy too,” Allie said, blushing furiously when she realized that she’d just insulted the guest.
“Even better,” Greer said.
* * *
The first thing Greer noticed, with relief, was that the glass-topped table in Ginny Buckalew’s apartment was set for only three—meaning they would not be joined by Eb Thibadeaux.
A shallow bowl in the center of the table held a grouping of pink, yellow, and red hibiscus blossoms. “How pretty,” Greer said.
She sniffed the tantalizing aroma of roasting chicken wafting from the kitchen, sighed, and turned to Ginny, who handed her a cold beer. “A home-cooked meal. You have no idea what a treat this is for me.”
“It’s nothing fancy,” Ginny said. “Allie, would you please check on my green beans, to make sure they’re not burning?”
Allie nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
“I just wanted to thank you for letting her watch today,” Ginny said in a low voice. “That girl has always been crazy for movies. I thought about asking you if she could come on the set to watch, but then she made me promise I wouldn’t impose on you.”
“No imposition at all,” Greer said.
* * *
Despite Ginny’s claims that the menu was “nothing fancy,” it was obvious to Greer that the older woman had taken pains with the fare: baked chicken and dressing, gravy, corn cut off the cob, fresh green beans cooked with chunks of ham, biscuits, and a lemon chess pie for dessert.
“How do you two eat like this and stay so skinny?” Greer looked from Ginny to Allie to the half-eaten slice of pie on her own plate.
“We don’t eat like this all the time,” Ginny said. “But we wanted to do something nice to say thanks for letting Allie go on your set today.”
“It was probably totally boring for you, right, Allie?” Greer asked.
“No way! Everybody was so nice. It was amazing,” Allie said.
“Ginny tells me you’re like me—a big movie buff. Is that right?”
“Uh-huh.” Allie sipped her iced tea.
“Even when she was a little kid, she wanted to watch movies, and not just kid ones, either,” Ginny volunteered. “Tell her your favorite movie, Al.�
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“She doesn’t care about that stuff, Gin,” Allie said.
“Sure I do,” Greer said. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. Let me guess—Hunger Games, right? Or maybe Twilight?”
“Mmm, not really. It changes sometimes, but right now it’s Rear Window.”
“You’re a Hitchcock fan? I’m impressed,” Greer said.
“I wasn’t so sure she should be watching those scary movies,” Ginny said. “I still remember after watching Psycho. I didn’t sleep for a week.”
“Yeah, but Rear Window’s not gory scary,” Allie said. “It’s suspenseful. And I love the way Hitchcock played around with perspective—showing Jimmy Stewart’s apartment, and then the apartment that he’s spying on. You can never figure out what’s going to happen next, and then, when it’s about to happen, you’re just holding your breath to see if Grace Kelly is going to get out of there before the bad guy comes back.”
“I love Rear Window, too,” Greer said. “Especially Grace Kelly’s costumes. My grandmother was a seamstress in the Paramount costume shop, so I guess I pay attention to that kind of stuff.”
“You said you’d tell me your favorite movie,” Allie reminded her.
“Easy. Has to be Sabrina. How could you go wrong with Billy Wilder directing Audrey Hepburn, Humphrey Bogart, and William Holden?” Greer said.
“Oh-h-h. I like that one too,” Allie agreed. “Is Billy Wilder the guy who directed Some Like It Hot? I loved Marilyn Monroe in that.”
“Very good!” Greer said, applauding softly. “You really do know your movies, Allie.”
“I’m a total old movie nerd,” Allie said apologetically. “We don’t have a movie theater here, so I mostly download and watch.”
“You should see all the movies on her iPad,” Ginny said. “Show her, Al.”
“God, Gin. No!”
“Do you like any more contemporary movies?”
“It’s not very recent, but I like Amy Heckerling—she did Clueless, you know? Super cute, and I like that she wrote it too,” Allie confided. “And Bridesmaids. Hilarious, right? Kristin Wiig is the bomb.”
“Bridesmaids was awful!” Ginny put in. “Nasty!”
“Don’t be such an old lady, Gin,” Allie teased. “You know you laughed.”
Ginny stood up and began clearing the dishes.
“Let me help,” Greer said. “You did all this cooking.”
“You’d never be able to find where to put stuff in my kitchen,” Ginny said. “You two just sit there and talk about your movies, and I’ll fix some coffee.”
“I like your aunt,” Greer said, when Ginny was gone. “She reminds me of Dearie, my grandmother that I told you about, who helped raise me.”
“Gin’s pretty cool. You know, I forget she’s really my great-aunt. She’s more like my mom, kinda.”
Greer studied the girl. Her bright blue eyes were sparkling with excitement.
“What do you like best about movies?” Greer asked.
Allie scrunched up her face while she considered the question. “I don’t know. I guess—they make me feel a part of things—that I could never really be a part of. At night, in my room, I like to turn off all the lights and watch a movie on my iPad. If it’s a good movie—like The Quiet Man, or Moonstruck—I forget I’m just a kid in this dinky little town. And I’m living in that world—the world in the movie.”
Allie used the edge of her hand to sweep crumbs from the tablecloth and into a napkin, her brow wrinkled in concentration.
She looked up at Greer. “Before I came to live with Gin and Eb, when I was living with my mom in this super-creepy apartment, she worked nights, at Walmart, so she’d buy me all these Disney DVDs, and I’d watch them, alone, in the apartment, like all night, till she came home. I was scared, you know, of being there alone, and TV scared me more, because it showed bad stuff. So I watched The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, and they were pretty and brave, and they were like my make-believe friends.”
“I used to do that, too, when I was a little kid,” Greer said dreamily. “In the summer, if my grandmother couldn’t watch me, Lise would drop me off at the multiplex in our neighborhood, with five bucks to get popcorn and a Coke. I’d hit all four theaters sometimes. Back to back. All by myself. But I didn’t care, because it was the movies, and I thought nothing bad could happen at the movies.”
“Did you have a favorite as a kid?” Allie asked.
“The Goonies, and maybe Princess Bride. And any John Hughes movie, when I hit my teens. I was a weirdo. So, are you interested in acting?”
“Not really.”
“Me neither,” Greer said. “I wanted to create the worlds I saw.”
Allie hesitated. “This is going to sound so crazy conceited, but I really want to be a writer, or a director, or both.”
“It doesn’t sound conceited at all,” Greer said.
“But it’s really hard for women, right?”
“Very hard,” Greer said. “Hollywood is a boys’ club. But some women manage to break through. You’ve seen Nora Ephron’s movies, right?”
Allie nodded vigorously. “Nora Ephron—she’s like my god. Did you ever meet her?”
“No, but I wish I had.” Greer said, barely managing to stifle another yawn.
Ginny swept into the dining room with a dish towel draped over her arm. “Come on, Allie,” Ginny said briskly. “Let Greer go on back to her room to get some sleep now. She can barely keep her eyes open.”
“It’s not the company, I swear,” Greer said. “I had a really late night last night, and a long day today. I wish I could stay and talk movies more with you, Allie. This was fun.”
“Me too,” Allie said. “Today was unbelievable. Adelyn even said hi to me when I went to the catering tent to get a bottle of water.”
“You know,” Greer said slowly, “if you’re interested, I could probably hire you on as a P.A. Not full time or anything. You have your driver’s license, right?”
“Oh my God. Yes! Are you serious?” Allie jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around Greer.
“What’s a P.A.?” Ginny asked.
“A production assistant,” Allie said. “Joe—he’s one—he explained what kinds of stuff he does. It would be, like, my dream job.”
“Good,” Greer said. “I’ve got some stuff to do at the production office in the morning. Why don’t you meet me there, around eleven?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Allie chanted. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
23
While the crew was breaking down the equipment to move to the next location on Friday, Greer fired off a quick text to CeeJay.
Meet me for lunch?
C U in 10, CeeJay texted back.
“So … how’s it going with you two?” Greer asked, after they’d found an empty table under the catering tent and piled plates with that day’s offerings.
“Great. Really great. Bryce is super busy, but I think he’s generally happy with the way filming is going. The house is cool. I love watching these Gulf sunsets.”
“Any word about the divorce?” Greer asked.
“Nope. I think he’s talked to his lawyer back on the coast a couple times, but I try to stay out of his drama. We’re happy, so why rock the boat?”
Greer studied her friend. Today CeeJay wore her hair in a wispy strawberry blond updo, and her eyes were lined with dramatic, shiny black liner and deep turquoise shadow that gave her a modern Cleopatra vibe. She wore a black and white sleeveless striped cotton maxi dress and black platform sandals.
“I’m happy you’re happy, but it’s weird that we’re both working on the same project and we hardly ever see each other except for ten or fifteen minutes in between shots. I miss hanging out with you.”
“I know. I miss us, too. I mean, Bryce is awesome, but a girl needs her girlfriends, right?”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Greer said. “What about dinner tonight? One of the grips was telling me abou
t a Thai place over in Ducktown, which he claims is the authentic, real deal.”
“That would be amazing,” CeeJay said. “Don’t get me wrong, the chef Bryce hired to cook for us is fabulous, but after a while you kinda get tired of all that hand-rolled sushi and fancy French shit, you know?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll take your word for it,” Greer said. “If we manage to stay on schedule today, how about I pick you up at your house around seven?”
“It’s a date,” CeeJay agreed. “Bryce won’t miss me. I think he’s playing basketball with Kregg and his peeps tonight.”
As she spoke, CeeJay’s gaze wandered away from Greer. “Speaking of which, who’s that with our boy wonder?” CeeJay pointed with a forkful of salad in the general direction of a black golf cart that had rolled to a stop at the edge of the catering tent.
Greer had just bitten into a fish taco loaded with morsels of fried redfish, avocado, tomato, and queso cheese. She swiveled around in her seat to get a look at the subject of her friend’s inquiry.
“Oh shit.” She frowned when she saw the pretty blond teenager sitting on the front seat beside the cart’s driver, Kregg.
“That’s Allie Thibadeaux. And that ain’t good.”
CeeJay bit into her own taco, then delicately wiped the edge of her lips with a paper napkin. “Huh?”
“The mayor’s niece.”
“Uh-oh.” CeeJay eyed the girl thoughtfully. “Cute girl, though. How old?”
“Only seventeen, but she’s really a nice girl. Crazy about movies, and thinks she wants to be a writer/director. I just hired her as a very part-time P.A.”
“As far as Kregg’s concerned, she’s total jailbait,” CeeJay said.
“Exactly.” Greer sipped her iced tea. “And he’s, what, twenty-two?”
“Barely legal,” CeeJay said. “Or illegal, in his case.”
“Kregg better start cleaning up his act,” Greer said. “I talked to Chief Bottoms this morning. That matching donation Bryce made to the Police Benevolent Society was a good idea, but I think she’s serious when she says there’ll be no more free passes for Kregg.”
“We’ll see.” CeeJay nibbled on a cherry tomato, then glanced down at her phone with a sigh.
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