“Look out!” Vee shrieked.
But it was too late.
One of the lions lashed out with its claws, knocking the whip from the trainer’s hand. The other one pounced, shoving him backward—and out of the cage.
Down he went.
Bang!
The trainer’s head smashed against the base of a spotlight. The blow knocked him out cold.
Clang!
A stagehand slammed the cage door shut before the lion could escape. The beast bounced against the bars and fell into the sawdust.
But that only seemed to make him angrier.
Scrambling to its feet, the lion joined its partner in the center of the cage, where Vee stood as helpless as a baby lamb. The lions’ eyes glistened as they licked their chops with long pink tongues.
One of them took a step toward her, growling.
Vee raised the whip—and brought it down hard with a quick clean jerk.
Crack!
Sawdust flew into the air, showering down over the lion’s face. The beast grunted and backed off.
That’s when the other one went after her.
“Vee! Look out!” I yelled.
Her head snapped around, her eyes zeroing in on the other feline predator. It hunched down on it back legs—and prepared to pounce.
Crack!
Vee’s whip whizzed through the air, spraying the lion with sawdust.
Go get ’em, Vee!
In my heart I was cheering. But in my brain, I knew Vee wouldn’t be able to keep both of the lions at bay for very long. Sooner or later, the so-called king of the jungle would win the fight.
And Vee would get hurt—or worse.
I have to do something. Now.
Opening my mouth as wide as I could, I unleashed a loud battle cry from the depths of my throat. Then I charged straight at the cage. The lions turned their heads, curious and confused. I had no idea what I was going to do once I reached the cage—but I would think of something.
“Joe! No!” Vee screamed.
My body slammed against the cage with a thud. Poking my arms through the bars, I teased and coaxed the baffled beasts by fluttering my fingers at them.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” I cooed.
One of the lions seemed to grab the bait. He turned and walked toward me while the other gazed on silently.
“What’s new, pussycat?”
My hand dipped back and forth a few feet from its face. The lion followed my fingers with its eyes—and licked its teeth.
Down, down, down, I lowered my hand all the way to the ground. Then I grabbed a big handful of the sawdust—and threw it in the lion’s face.
“ARRRRAAUGH!”
The animal went crazy. Yelping, twitching, and rolling onto its back, the lion pawed its face furiously to shake off the sawdust.
I looked up at Vee. A huge smile spread over her face. But then her attention turned to the other lion.
It was circling around her, moving faster and closer with every step.
“Hey! Cat! Want a piece of me?”
Who said that?
My gaze shifted to the other side of the cage. I quickly spotted a pair of hands poking through the bars.
It was Frank.
Nice!
“Come and get it, fat cat!” he taunted the beast.
The lion turned around—and charged after Frank.
Whoosh!
My brother threw a big handful of sawdust in the animal’s furry face.
“ARRRRRAUGHHH!”
The beast went down with a roar, shaking its head from side to side. I started to relax—when the other lion came after me.
“Joe!” Vee screamed.
I ducked down to grab more sawdust.
But I didn’t move fast enough.
The lion’s claw slashed across my face. With a powerful jerk, I went flying backward, knocked senseless by the force of the lion’s huge paw.
“Joe!” Vee shrieked.
She started to run toward me. My brother shouted at her, “Vee! Stop! Head for the door!”
In a daze, I glanced up to see her bolting for the door of the cage while Frank threw another handful of sawdust at the angry lions. One of the stagehands flung open the door. Vee dashed through and . . .
SLAM!
The door swung shut.
Vee was free.
I closed my eyes and flopped backward onto the floor. A stream of blood trickled across my face.
Ouch!
The next thing I knew, Vee was leaning down over me, holding my head in her arms.
“Joe? Are you all right? Can you hear me, Joe?”
I gazed into her eyes. “Hey,” I said softly. “Aren’t you that famous singer? Can I have your autograph?”
She laughed and hugged me. “Thanks, Joe,” she whispered. “You saved my life.”
She helped me to my feet. I felt a little stunned, but all in all, I was okay.
“You’re bleeding.” Vee pointed to my left cheek. “Maybe you should see a doctor. You might need stitches.”
I reached up and touched the wound. “It’s just a scratch,” I assured her. “Where’s Frank? I’m not the only hero around here.”
“He’s helping Jillian.”
I turned around and saw my brother helping Jillian to her feet. She looked incredibly pale and a little shaky. Frank had to slip his arm around her to keep her standing. Vee and I walked over to help them out.
“I’m so sorry, Vee,” Jillian whimpered. “It was all my fault. I fainted and hit the lever and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Vee smiled. “Next time, watch where you’re standing! But of course, Jillian—I know this was an accident. You should come to my trailer and lie down. You’re as white as a ghost.”
Jillian nodded weakly. Frank handed her off to Vee, who helped the girl back to the trailer.
I looked at Frank. “Thanks, bro,” I told him. “I couldn’t have done it alone.”
He shrugged and said, “I know.” Then he added, “You’re bleeding.”
“I know.”
We laughed. Brewster Fink walked toward us with a first-aid kit. “Okay, Mr. Hero,” he said. “You saved the day . . . again. But I’m not letting you do any more work until I fix up that scratch on your face. It’s the least I can do.”
The big bearded guy cleaned the wound and applied a large bandage. Meanwhile Frank paced back and forth, staring at the floor. Then he turned his back to us and picked up a notebook.
“You’re good as new,” said Brewster, slapping my back. “Good job, man.”
“Thanks, dude.”
As soon as Brewster walked away, Frank turned around and held up the notebook. “You have to see this, Joe.”
“What is it?”
“Jillian’s notebook.”
He handed it to me. I opened it and started flipping through—and I was totally shocked by what I saw.
Most of the pages were filled with Vee Sharp’s name, written over and over again in different styles. Sometimes the letters were curly or loopy. Other times they were blocky and bold.
Vee Sharp. Vee Sharp. VEE SHARP.
Again and again, page after page.
“This is really weird,” I muttered.
“Yes, it is. But wait till you see this.” He reached over and flipped to the end. He pointed to the page. I looked down and gasped.
It said: VEE’S LAST DAY: CUT & DIE.
I looked up at my brother. “What does this mean?” I asked him.
He stared down grimly. “It means that Jillian Goode is one of our prime suspects.”
I looked at Frank and shook my head.
“It’s hard to believe that Jillian would do this,” I said. “She loves Vee.”
“Maybe a little too much.”
“Oh, come on, Frank. Do you really think Jillian is capable of hurting someone? She’s one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met. And one of the coolest girls you ever had a crush on.”
Frank lowered h
is head and blushed. “Yes, but . . . what about this notebook?”
I glanced down and stared at the words again.
CUT & DIE.
“Maybe we should just ask her about it,” I suggested.
Frank looked up at me. “Maybe you’re right.”
I threw my arm over his shoulder and steered my brother toward the trailer out back. In my mind, I knew there must be a logical explanation for the crazy stuff in Jillian’s notebook. She wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. I was sure of it.
But then I heard a loud piercing sound coming from inside the trailer.
Vee was screaming.
14.
Cut!
“Jillian! Stop!”
Vee screamed again, even louder. Joe and I dashed to the trailer. Without bothering to knock, we flung open the door and scrambled inside.
I’m not sure what we expected to see: Jillian strangling Vee? Jillian attacking Vee with a weapon?
What we didn’t expect to see was the two girls reading a newspaper—and laughing hysterically.
“Vee! Are you okay?” said Joe.
The girls looked up and stopped laughing. Jillian quickly stashed the newspaper behind her back. Vee had a guilty look on her face.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “We heard screaming.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Jillian answered. “We were just laughing over something. Girl stuff.”
I glanced down at the newspaper.
Vee sighed. “You might as well show it to them, Jillian. They’re going to see it sooner or later.”
Jillian handed me the newspaper. It was one of those cheesy gossip papers you see at the checkout line of grocery stores—the kind that features the latest celebrity scandal.
But this time, Joe and I were on the front cover.
“Give me a break,” my brother muttered.
The headline read: VEE SHARP’S SECRET SHOCKER: BROTHERS BATTLE FOR HER HEART—AND LAND IN JAIL!
There was a photo of Joe and me walking out of the police station. The picture was ripped in half so that we were separated by a huge color shot of Vee. Her lips were puckered up—like she was ready to kiss one of us.
Joe’s eyes bugged out as he started to read the story. “This is ridiculous! It’s nothing but lies!”
Vee shrugged. “Welcome to Hollywood, boys.”
We gathered around the paper and giggled over the phony story. The reporter claimed that Joe and I got into a fistfight at Vee’s house—and the star couldn’t decide which one of us she liked more.
No wonder the girls were screaming with laughter.
I was laughing too. But then I remembered that Jillian was still a suspect. In fact, I was holding the evidence in my hands.
Jillian’s notebook.
I waited until the girls finished reading the story. Then I cleared my throat and held up the notebook. “Jillian, you dropped this.”
She stared at it and blinked her eyes. “Oh! Thanks!”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I flipped through to find out who it belonged to,” Joe said. It was a lie—but we definitely needed it. “Hey, why did you write Vee’s name in it so many times?”
Jillian didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Oh, that. Vee wanted me to come up with a new logo for her name. When I told her that I’m studying to become a designer, she asked me to help her out.”
Vee nodded. “Yeah, I need a new design for my album covers, T-shirts . . . stuff like that.”
That makes sense.
I felt a little guilty bringing it up, but I had to. “What about this?” I asked, opening the notebook to the last page.
Jillian leaned forward and read it out loud. “Vee’s last day: cut and die.”
She glanced over at Vee—and both of them burst out laughing.
“They think I’m a suspect, Vee!” Jillian said, giggling.
“You can’t blame them,” Vee told her. “It sounds like a death threat.”
Jillian saw the confusion on my face. She stopped laughing and explained. “Vee asked me to remind her to have her hair cut and dyed for the last day of the video shoot.”
“My hairstylist hates it when I miss appointments,” added Vee.
I started to laugh. “Oh. Well, in that case, the word is D-Y-E, not D-I-E.”
Jillian shrugged. “Okay, so I’m not a good speller.”
A few minutes later we were called back onto the set. Spider wanted to finish the lion-taming scene—without the lions.
“We have enough animal footage,” he explained to the crew. “But we need more shots of Vee in her lion-tamer costume. We can put it all together in the editing room.”
The lions were quickly wheeled away, and we shot the rest of Vee’s scene without a hitch. It was cool to watch her dance and sing with the music. It was even cooler that nobody tried to kill her while she did it.
“CUT! That’s a wrap!” Spider announced at the end of the afternoon. “Thank you, everyone! It’s been a tough shoot, but you did it!”
The crew cheered.
Brewster clapped his hands to get their attention. “Okay, everyone! We’re finished here, so please stack up all the props against the far wall! Just one last location shoot tomorrow morning, and the video is in the can. I’ll see you all bright and early at the Hollywood sign!”
The crew scattered. Spider folded up his director’s chair and took off. Vee was heading back to her trailer, but T-Mix grabbed her on the way.
“Hey! Vee!” he said, jogging up next to her. His long braids bounced as he ran. “I set up a recording studio in the next building. If you’ve got the time, I’d love for you to do some new vocals for the dance remix of ‘Girls Rule.’”
Vee sighed. “Aw, gee, T-Mix. I’m pretty beat. It’s been a long day.”
“Please, please,” the record producer begged. “The record company wants to release it as soon as possible. The CD version is still climbing up the charts.”
Vee thought about it. “Well, I’m not anxious to face those reporters. Are they still waiting for me at the front gate?”
“Yup,” he said. “At least a dozen of them. I had to push and shove to get past them.”
Vee rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she agreed. “I might as well stay here and get some work done. Maybe they’ll get tired and leave.”
She turned to face Joe and me.
“Do you guys want to come and watch me in the recording studio?”
“That would be awesome,” said Joe.
“But first we should help move the props,” I reminded him. “We could catch up with you later, Vee.”
“Great,” she said.
“We’ll be in Building B,” said T-Mix.
The two turned around and walked off. Joe and I joined the crew on the soundstage. I had just started sweeping up when I found a crumpled piece of paper lying in the sawdust.
“Joe, come look at this.” I showed him the paper.
It was another death threat: NUMBER 3: WILD ANIMALS.
Joe glanced around the soundstage. “Anybody could have put it there,” he said.
I sighed and shoved the note into my pocket. Then we went back to work. It took us almost an hour to tear down the set and stack up all the props.
“Hey, Frank! Help me lift this crater onto the pile!”
Joe stood on his toes, struggling to hoist the plaster prop over his head.
“I don’t know, bro,” I said. “That pile is pretty high. If you ask me, it looks dangerous.”
“Who asked you? Just help me.”
I reached up and pushed the fake crater onto the stack. Then I tested the pile with my hand—just to make sure it was stable. I would feel awful if the whole thing came crashing down on top of somebody.
“Does it pass regulation, Mr. Safety?” asked Joe.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe we shouldn’t have stacked it so high.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Come on. It’s fine. Let’s go to the recording studio. I want hear Vee sing.”
We left the soundstage and walked to the building next door. Inside we passed a row of doors until we reached a red sign that said, RECORDING IN SESSION. We peeked in.
T-Mix sat in front of a giant mixing board, fiddling with a bunch of knobs. He glanced up, saw us, and waved us inside.
“Hi, guys,” he said. “We’re almost done here. Have a seat.”
Joe and I sat down in a pair of office chairs and looked through the big glass window above the mixing board. Vee stood in front of a microphone. She had a bulky set of earphones over her head and a tired smile on her face.
“How should I sing the last line, T-Mix?”
“Try shouting it as loud as you can,” he said into a small mike. “It should sound gritty and tough.”
Vee nodded and looked down. T-Mix pressed a button and the music started. I recognized the final chorus of “Girls Rule,”—except now it was faster and harder, with a loud throbbing dance beat.
“Girls rule! GIRLS RULE!!!” Vee belted out.
“Again,” said T-Mix, rewinding the tape.
“GIRLS RULE! GIRLS RULE!”
T-Mix started clapping. “That’s it! Perfect! You got it, girl!”
Vee laughed. “So we’re done?”
“We’re done.”
She pulled the earphones off her head and rushed into the mixing room. “Was that tough enough?”
“Listen.” T-Mix rewound the tape and played it for her. “Pretty tough, huh?”
Vee smiled and nodded. “I can’t wait to hear the final mix,” she said.
T-Mix leaned forward and pushed a few buttons. “I’ll work on it tonight,” he said. “But this will give you an idea of what it will sound like.”
He played a selection for us. It was a dance version of “Girls Rule,” but it wasn’t Vee’s voice.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Joe.
“Who is that singing?” I asked.
T-Mix lowered his head and blushed a little. “It’s me.”
“Man! You’re awesome!” said Joe.
“Isn’t he?” said Vee.
“Totally,” I agreed. “Why are you producing records for other people, T-Mix? You should be singing them yourself.”
T-Mix shook his head. “No, man, I belong behind the scenes. Let’s face it. I’m just a skinny little guy with big braids and pimples. I don’t have ‘The Look’ that the studios are going for these days.”
Top Ten Ways to Die Page 8