Beach Town

by Mary Kay Andrews

  “Sawyer was a dick, obviously. And his analyst was a self-serving quack who should be reported to the AMA.”

  “But it’s a conflict of interest for both of us,” Greer persisted. “You’re the mayor. You joke around about it, but I know you take your work as seriously as I do.”

  “Okay. The casino thing—this was probably inevitable,” Eb said. “I’ve known Vanessa Littrell since we were kids. She’s the classic rich girl who always gets what she goes after. If you hadn’t come along and dangled this deal in front of her, somebody else would have. I’m going to fight this plan to demolish it—tooth and nail. You say you’re doing your job? I’m doing mine. And we’ll leave it at that. For now.”

  31

  She was on the golf cart, two blocks away from Manatee Street, when she started seeing the signs.

  NO CREW PARKING ON MANATEE OR DOLPHIN.

  A block away, she saw another sign.

  MANATEE STREET BETWEEN FIRST AND THIRD CLOSED FOR TRAFFIC TODAY, 2–8 p.m.

  Greer hadn’t directed Zena to put up signs. Had she actually taken some initiative for herself? Greer’s day had taken another serious turn for the better.

  As expected, the equipment trucks had effectively blocked the narrow, tree-lined street. The off-duty police officer waved her past the metal barrier, and she snugged the cart up tight behind a truck trailering the Royal Restrooms she’d rented.

  She found Zena in a heated discussion with the truck driver, who was waving an invoice in her face.

  “Talk to this guy, will you?” Zena exclaimed. “He’s saying he won’t give me the keys to the damned toilets until he gets paid.”

  “I’ll take that,” Greer said, extracting the paper from the driver’s outstretched hand. She ran a finger down the line items, looked up, and realized that there were only two deluxe bathroom modules on the truck, even though she’d ordered a third module, to be used only by cast members.

  “All right,” she said calmly. “We’ve got a problem, because you’ve shorted us a module. I specifically told your people we need three bathrooms.”

  “I don’t know nothing about that,” the driver argued. “I load what they give me, at the warehouse in Gainesville. I deliver, but I don’t leave until I get paid.”

  “We need that third module,” Greer said.

  “You ain’t getting it today,” the driver countered. “It’s two hours to Gainesville and back, and it’s after three now. The warehouse closes at five.”

  “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. If you’ll go over to our production office on Main Street, the bookkeeper will cut you a check for half this amount. I’ll call your boss and let him know the situation. But I need you to unlock those bathrooms right now, and I need a promise from somebody that we’ll get another toilet here first thing in the morning.”

  “I just pick up and deliver,” he repeated.

  “Give me five minutes.”

  Greer scrolled through the contacts on her phone, found the number for the event rental company in Gainesville, and made her call. Three minutes later she handed the phone to the driver, who listened and nodded through the brief conversation.

  He handed the phone back to Greer, then withdrew an envelope with the key to the restrooms from the breast pocket of his work shirt.

  “Hey, uh, somebody told me Adelyn Davis is in this movie. Is she actually here?”

  “That’s her, right over there.” Greer pointed to a huge oak tree, where Adelyn was seated on a folding chair in the shade while CeeJay dusted her face with powder.

  The driver stared at the actress for a long moment. “She’s a little bitty thing, ain’t she?”

  “Very petite,” Greer said. “But very nice. She’s the one that extra bathroom is for, you know.”

  “Nobody tells me anything. In the morning, when I drop off the other unit, you think I could get a picture made with Adelyn? She’s my little girl’s favorite, since she was in that Disney Channel show.”

  “I’m pretty sure we can arrange that,” Greer said. She glanced at the driver’s name, which was embroidered over his breast pocket. “And listen, Billy. Is there any way you could get that module here first thing in the morning? It’s really awkward for Adelyn to have to use the same bathroom as all the other crew members. She’s super sweet, but you know how it is.”

  “I don’t clock in until eight,” Billy said.

  “Lucky you. I’ll be over here before five tomorrow.”

  Billy looked around at the set. “Pretty interesting seeing all this. I never delivered to a movie set before.”

  “Have you had lunch?” Greer asked. She pointed to the caterer’s tent. “I’d love for you to be our guest.”

  “The fried chicken’s pretty good,” Zena offered. “And the barbecue.”

  “Okay. Sure, why not?” Billy started to wander away.

  “See you first thing tomorrow, right?” Greer called.

  He smiled and waved.

  “Greer, you know Adelyn has her own RV with a bathroom, right?” Zena asked.

  “I know it, but Billy doesn’t,” Greer replied. “And we need that third module before things get funky over here tomorrow. Before I forget, can you get an autographed head shot of Adelyn to hand over to our new friend when he gets here tomorrow morning?”

  “Consider it done.”

  She looked around at the set and the small village of trucks, trailers, and people who, overnight, had quadrupled the population of Manatee Street.

  “Everything else all right?”

  “So far. Hey, the new girl, Allie? Where’d you find her?”

  “She’s the mayor’s niece. Never hurts to score points with the authorities. Right? Do you think she’ll work out?”

  “Oh yeah. You know that nutball neighbor, Steve, I forget his name? The big fat guy with the Sasquatch beard. Lives two doors down from the set. He’s the one who’s been raising hell all week. A little while ago he came up to me and offered to let me park in his driveway.”

  “That’s the same guy who set his pit bull on you last week because you were legally parked at the curb?”

  “Same dude. But today he’s all hearts and smiles. Apparently, your girl Allie took him a box of doughnuts this morning, and now we’re all best friends. Did you tell her to do that?”

  “I would have if I’d thought of it. Damn! I’m officially impressed.”

  “Me too,” Zena said.

  Greer’s cell phone rang.

  “Greer? It’s Allie Thibadeaux.”

  “Hi, Allie. Zena was just telling me you’ve been doing some fence-mending on Manatee.”

  “Huh?”

  “Bribing the neighbors with doughnuts. Great idea.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s what Ginny always does when guests at the Sands are pissed off about something. She just drops muffins off at their room.”

  “I’m going to remember that one. What’s up?”

  “Zena was saying we should try to move the caterer’s tent, because there isn’t any shade where it is, and it’s super hot right now. This lady I know, Mrs. Witchger, she lives at the end of the block. She’s going to be out of town for the next week, and she said we could set up in her front yard. They can put the generators in her driveway too.”

  “Perfect,” Greer said. “You can tell Mrs. Witchger we’ll pay her two hundred fifty dollars a day, too.”

  “Oh. Okay. I think she’d be okay with us using it for free though. She was my kindergarten teacher, and she’s a nice lady.”

  “I’ll drop by and see her in a few minutes. I’ll take her one of our written contracts, and offer her one hundred dollars a day.”

  “Cool. I got the golf cart, like you said, so unless you need me for something else, I guess I’ll just keep picking up and dropping off the crew between here and the base camp.”

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” Greer said.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Greer spotted Allie Thibadeaux standing in the backyard of Edith Ra
mbo’s house, peeping out from behind an overgrown azalea shrub, watching the cameras roll as Bryce Levy directed Kregg and Adelyn in a scene being filmed on the brick patio.

  She could tell by Allie’s body language that she wasn’t much enjoying the spectacle of Kregg doing take after take of soul-kissing his costar.

  Greer walked quietly up behind Allie during a break in the filming. “It’s just acting, Allie.”

  The teenager whirled around, embarrassed at being spied upon while spying.

  “Adelyn is a total pro. She’s been in movies since she was a child. And if it makes you feel any better, she’s engaged.”

  Allie blushed, then giggled. “Okay. Yeah, that does make me feel better.”

  “It’s none of my business, but do Ginny and Eb know you’re seeing Kregg?”

  Allie’s smile faded, replaced by a more typical teen expression. “We’re just hanging out. He’s teaching me a lot about movies and stuff.”

  That better be all he’s teaching you about, Greer thought.

  “But he’s five years older than you are.”

  “Everybody says I’m way more mature than most kids my age. Even you said it,” Allie said.

  “But Kregg’s from a whole different world. He’s a millionaire many times over, has owned his own house since he was sixteen. And once he’s done filming here, he’s gone. In three weeks he heads out on a twenty-two-city tour.”

  Allie tossed her hair. “I told you. We’re just hanging out having fun. It’s no biggie.”

  Greer knew she should let it go, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

  “Did Kregg tell you he was just released from drug rehab? Literally, he flew here direct from the rehab in Arizona.”

  “Yeah, he told me. It’s not like he’s a junkie.”

  “So, most mornings when he reports to work, he’s already buzzed on weed.”

  “It’s legal in lots of places.”

  “But not in Florida. Kregg’s already gotten arrested last week for drag racing. Chief Bottoms isn’t going to give him another break if he gets caught for possession. Or for furnishing alcohol to a minor, which is what you are. And neither is your uncle. Just think about your family, okay? If you get in trouble with Kregg, it’s going to put Eb in a terrible position.”

  Allie’s carefully made-up eyes narrowed. “I’m not a baby! And I’m not going to get in trouble. Okay? And I would really appreciate it if you would not go narcing me out to my uncle for hanging out with Kregg. Just because my dad, you know, did some stuff, Eb stays up in my grill all the time. And I’m sick of it!”

  Greer reached out her hand to the girl’s shoulder, but Allie shook her off. “I gotta go to work at the Inn now. You won’t tell Eb about me and Kregg, right? I swear, Greer, I’m not gonna get in trouble. Anyway, weed gives me, like, a fierce headache.”

  “How about beer?” Greer asked.

  “Just don’t rat me out,” Allie persisted. “Please? Kregg is really cool. He’s not like people think he is.”

  Greer sighed. “I won’t tell, but don’t make me regret hiring you. Or trusting you to know right from wrong.”

  “Thanks! I’ll be good.”

  She watched as Allie sped off through the backyard. “You better be,” she muttered.

  32

  Shooting on location on a residential street was always fraught with potential hassles, and Thursday morning was no exception to the rule.

  The incoming text was from Zena, and it was terse but to the point.

  Trouble on Manatee. Better get over here.

  Greer spotted the source of the problem the moment she turned the corner onto Edith Rambo’s block. Or rather, she heard it. Earsplitting, bass-booming rap blared from loudspeakers set up on the front yard of the troublesome neighbor Zena had nicknamed Sasquatch.

  Sasquatch himself was seated in a folded lawn chair at the foot of his driveway, with what she hoped was only a toy BB gun stretched out across his knees.

  Across the street and over two houses, crew members milled around, obviously idled by the unwanted concert.

  She found Zena standing in the front yard at Edith Rambo’s house, talking on the phone, but she disconnected as Greer approached.

  “I hope you were calling the cops,” Greer said. “How long has this been going on?”

  “For the past forty-five minutes. I’ve called the cops three times, and they sent a unit over, but they say there’s nothing they can do. The guy’s on his own property.”

  “They don’t have a noise ordinance in this burg?”

  “They do, but as long as he’s not playing loud music and disturbing the peace after ten p.m., they say he’s not breaking any laws.”

  “I thought you said we’d made peace with the guy. I thought Sasquatch invited you to park in his driveway, and be best friends.”

  “What can I say? He’s a psycho. Everything was good until this morning. Apparently somebody tipped him to the fact that we’re paying the people directly across the street a fee, because the exteriors of their homes are in camera range.”

  Greer nodded. “I see where this is going. He wants to be paid too, right?”

  “I explained that his house isn’t in camera range,” Zena said. “I gave him the last pizza certificates I had. Allie went to the bakery and brought back two dozen doughnuts, but he wouldn’t let her on the property.”

  Greer was gazing at the neighbor. His dark beard hung down to his chest, and his hair fuzzed out below an orange and blue sun visor, which did nothing to hide the softball-sized bright pink bald spot on top of his head. He was decked out in bright orange polyester basketball shorts, which hung down to his knees, and an extra-extra-extra-large sleeveless blue tank top, which barely covered his huge, distended white belly. He was sucking from a quart-size Slurpee cup and glaring out at the world. An old-school boom box rested on the ground by his feet.

  “A guy like that, I can’t believe he couldn’t be bought off with doughnuts,” Greer mumbled.

  “Maybe he’s glucose intolerant,” Zena offered.

  Greer looked over her shoulder at the idled cast and crew. “What’s Bryce saying about the interruption? Did he blow a gasket?”

  “The good news is, he left before the concert started. I think he went over to check out the progress on the casino.”

  She was studying Sasquatch again. His shoulders were tensed and his chubby white legs were firmly planted two feet apart, while his fingers caressed the stock of the rifle. Greer had seen that look, or variations on the look, before. The man was itching for a fight.

  “The police didn’t tell him to put the gun away?”

  “Nope.”

  “Damn.”

  “Adelyn’s terrified. She’s hiding in her RV, and she says she’s not coming out until the gun goes away.”

  “Where’s Kregg?”

  “I saw him sneaking down the alley with one of the grips a few minutes ago. I get the feeling his morning buzz is probably wearing off.”

  “You know about that?”

  “Everybody knows about it,” Zena assured her. “What are we going to do about Sasquatch? We’re already behind schedule.”

  “What’s his real name again?”

  Zena consulted a small notebook that she kept in her back pocket. “Steve Woods.”

  “How much petty cash do you have?”

  “Maybe a couple hundred?” She pulled a worn white business envelope stuffed with twenty-dollar bills. Greer pulled out a similar envelope and did a quick total.

  “That’s eight hundred twenty dollars.” She looked anxiously over at Steve/Sasquatch, whose eyes were closed while he bobbed his head in time to the music. “You don’t think that gun’s loaded, do you?”

  “The cop told me it’s only a BB gun. Anyway, he’s not gonna shoot you in broad daylight, in front of all these witnesses. Probably.”

  As she and Zena were conferring, Allie Thibadeaux walked up timidly. “I really did try to make friends with him, Greer. But everybody in t
own knows you don’t mess with Mr. Woods.”

  “Every neighborhood has a Mr. Woods,” Greer said. “Crazy, cranky, unreasonable whack jobs. But I’m gonna go over there and see if I can reason with him.”

  Allie’s eyes widened. “For reals? Can I go too?”

  “You sure you want to? This could get ugly.”

  “I kind of want to see how you handle him,” Allie admitted.

  * * *

  Greer took a moment to gather her thoughts before crossing the street. It was another scorching Florida morning, temperatures hovering in the low nineties, humidity at around the same range.

  She took a deep breath and cautiously approached the home of Steve Woods, with a bright, nonthreatening smile on her face and peace in her heart.

  He was really getting into the music now, his eyes still closed, and she could see the aluminum chair slowly swaying from side to side.

  “Okay, Allie,” she said under her breath. “Think of this as a sort of hostage negotiation. The key to success here is listening, empathizing, more listening, and a willingness to help him decide to help us out.”

  “Hi, Mr. Woods,” Greer called out, still standing on the sidewalk, carefully avoiding stepping onto the subject’s actual property. She had to shout to make herself heard above the din.

  He opened his eyes and stared at her. “What?”

  She used her cupped hands as a megaphone. “My name is Greer Hennessy. I’m the location manager for the production company filming here this week. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute.”

  He shrugged. “Talk’s free.”

  “Could you turn down the music a little? I can hardly hear you.”

  He frowned, but then picked up his boom box and fiddled with the volume.

  “Okay, talk.”

  “My associate seems to think you’re pretty upset with us. Is that right?”

  “Hell yeah. Your people fucked me over royally. You shut down the street. I can’t park my truck out front. Can’t get out to go to the store. And then you call the cops on me, for listening to a little music. What about my property rights?”

  “It must be a big inconvenience, and I’m sorry about that.”