The Trouble on Highway One

by Anne McClane

  She whipped around and saw Kandace, sans mug, statue-still with an ashen face.

  Lacey recognized that look. It was the look reserved for only the worst news. Lacey felt a terrible pressure on her throat.

  “Kandace. What is it?” she asked with a cracked voice.

  “There’s been an accident,” she said, eyes staring forward.

  Lacey rose, slowly. Kandace struggled with her words.

  “Kevin Horner is dead,” she said.

  12

  The last funeral she had attended was Fox’s, eighteen months ago. Now, she was on her way to another funeral for another young man that had died too young.

  The production had gone on immediate hiatus. The funeral was set for the upcoming Wednesday, in Los Angeles. Lacey and Ambrose drove down the coast highway to stay at Jimmy’s house in Mar Vista for a few days. She wasn’t sure what she would do after the funeral. Her brother told her she could stay at his house for as long as she wanted. LeViticum was set for several gigs throughout California and the Southwest, so he wouldn’t be around a lot.

  Which also meant Trevor wouldn’t be around. But she wasn’t thinking about him much, anyway. She was still in shock. Kevin Horner was so young, and so vital. It was so strange that he was gone. No, she wasn’t close to him. But because her current employment, and her whole reason for being in California in the first place, was so interlaced with his part in that TV movie, her world at present was very much upturned. Herself and the dozens of other people affiliated with the production.

  She had only seen Eli once since hearing the news. It was at the studio, before she had driven down to Los Angeles. From her time spent with Eli and Kevin in New Orleans, the two had appeared to be close. Lacey wondered how Eli was taking the loss.

  Eli had appeared before her, at her desk, as she was securing the laptop. He bore no visible signs of emotion.

  “Oh, Eli,” she said, and walked out from her desk to offer an embrace.

  Eli had accepted, stiffly, and disengaged quickly.

  “You will go to the funeral?”

  “Yes, of course,” Lacey had answered. “It’s not private? It won’t be strange for me to be there?”

  “No,” he had said. “It will be a Hollywood funeral.”

  Lacey wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

  He had disappeared before she could ask him any of the one million questions going through her mind.

  It had been a car accident. Kevin Horner was driving and Allison had been his passenger. She was injured pretty badly, but was expected to make it. This much she had gotten from Kandace.

  She had gotten a little more from Angele. Angele was in Los Angeles, and they were supposed to go to the funeral together. The official word was that the toxicology screen on Kevin and the investigation was ongoing, so there wouldn’t be any definitive answers for a while. But Angele knew from what she called “inside sources” that Kevin had not been partying prior to that drive. And that there was no other vehicle involved in the accident.

  “There’s something spooky about the whole thing,” Angele had said in her trademark, cut-and-dried delivery. “Something doesn’t add up.”

  Lacey couldn’t stop herself from drawing the parallels to Fox.

  Young, and charismatic, and charming. And then gone.

  Fox hadn’t died in a car accident. No, the heart attack hit him as he entered the cold water of Lake Pontchartrain. But she’d always had an unnatural fear of car accidents. She’d been so certain there had been a wreck, during that twenty-minute lifetime between getting the call and seeing his lifeless body on the shore.

  Lacey tried to steel herself for Kevin’s funeral. She would know very few people, which would be a blessing, she thought. This is not Fox’s funeral, she kept telling herself as she drove to meet up with Angele.

  Angele was waiting for her outside the parking lot at the Grove, the outdoor shopping mall woven into Los Angeles’s Farmers Market. She had told Lacey it would be easiest to meet there, no parking passes or security checks. Just a few months ago, Lacey might have been miffed that Angele wouldn’t take the trouble to get her a pass onto Paramount Studio’s lot, where she was currently working. But the circumstances of their meeting, and the fact that Lacey was over the whole movie business, made her appreciate the ease of the pick-up.

  Angele was dressed in a black skirt, gray blouse, and heels. Lacey almost didn’t recognize her.

  She settled into the passenger’s seat. “Well, this is all horrible.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Lacey answered.

  They spent a few minutes discussing the latest details of the tragic story. Lacey had no updates on Allison’s condition, and asked, “Is there any news about the girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, I have news, all right,” Angele said. “She’s supposed to be there today.”

  “Holy crap. Like in traction, or what?”

  “Probably in a wheel chair. I don’t know who’s gonna take her.”

  “Why not her friends or family?” Lacey asked. “Does she have somebody near by?”

  “Not from what I hear,” Angele answered cryptically. “I bet she’ll hire a private nurse to bring her. I already hear she’s planning on suing Kevin’s estate to cover ‘pain and suffering.’”

  “Jesus, that’s awful, if it’s true,” Lacey said. “Wouldn’t his insurance be enough for all that?”

  “Probably more than enough,” Angele answered. “But I bet Kevin was sitting on a lot of liquidity. He’d been working a lot, and hadn’t bought anything stupid.”

  “It’s just so sad. And so weird. Her part in it, I mean,” Lacey said.

  “This wouldn’t have happened under my watch,” Angele said.

  Lacey was certainly used to Angele’s bold, even abrasive, proclamations. But this one seemed particularly over-the-top.

  “Wow,” Lacey said. “Do you really believe that? That you could have stopped the laws of physics somehow and prevented his car accident?”

  “No, not that,” Angele said, dismissive. “The girl, Allison. He shouldn’t have gotten so serious with her, and he definitely shouldn’t have brought her up to the set.”

  “Well, it all doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

  Angele ignored her last comment. “You look nice.”

  Lacey was past caring about Angele’s abrasiveness. “Thanks. So do you.”

  “Did you bring that from home?” Angele asked.

  Lacey smoothed the skirt of her conservative black shirt-dress with a free hand.

  “Yeah,” Lacey said. “I figured it was a good packing piece because it could work for a variety of occasions. Though I hadn’t anticipated a funeral.”

  “You’re probably going to see some heavy hitters there today,” Angele said. “I think a lot of his co-stars from Entanglement may show up.”

  “Hmm. Okay. It’s still really sad,” Lacey said.

  What a strange calculus this whole world operates on.

  Lacey was certain she’d never understand it.

  Angele wasn’t kidding. Lacey tried to keep her jaw from dropping open at the sight of all the celebrities. It was bizarre, seeing all those people she usually associated with the smell of popcorn, instead accompanied by the antiseptic-meets-floral standard odor of a funeral parlor.

  And it wasn’t just movie stars. Luminaries from music, the stage, nearly every corner of the arts milled about. Lacey focused on one musician. “Is he in the movie?” Lacey whispered to Angele.

  “No. He wrote a song for the soundtrack,” she hissed at her. “Can you at least try to act like you belong here?”

  “I’ll keep her in check,” a low, monotone voice chimed in from behind them.

  Eli was dressed in a dark suit, dark shirt, and a white tie. Strangely, it suited him. With his bald head, he looked like a
formidable 1920s mobster.

  “Lacey, can you come with me? Hello, Angele, it’s nice to see you,” he said all in one breath.

  Angele motioned for Lacey to go ahead. “Hey, Eli,” she said. “I’m sorry to see you under these circumstances, but it’s good to see you all the same.”

  He tipped his head silently toward her, and led Lacey lightly by the elbow.

  “Are you doing okay, Eli?” Lacey asked as they walked to a less crowded area.

  “I am well, thank you,” he said. “And how are you? I wasn’t sure how you’d react to funerals.”

  Lacey narrowed her eyes. How I’d react? How much does he know about Fox’s funeral?

  She stopped herself before answering.

  “I’m fine, Eli. I’ll be fine. But this is all just so sad, and weren’t you close?”

  “I was very fond of Kevin. Even felt a sort of a fraternal bond, you might say. This is, indeed, very difficult.”

  Eli’s shoulders sloped, and his eyes misted over. Lacey was struck by how he became almost instantly vulnerable. She sensed a deeply-hidden tenderness.

  “Do you understand what I mean by a Hollywood funeral, now?” he asked, recovering.

  “Maybe,” Lacey said. She refused the volley. “I am truly sorry and sad for you, and for Kevin’s family.”

  “You can tell them that yourself,” he said.

  Lacey looked up and saw they were in a line, less than ten feet away from a couple linked together and receiving mourners. The woman was elegant, taller than the man, in a black prairie skirt and cropped black jacket. Her face was tear-stained. The man wore a turquoise bolo tie with a white shirt and a black suit. His eyes were moist, and he was an older version of Kevin Horner—in expression, stance, everything.

  “Oh, Eli, no,” Lacey whispered to him. “What would I say to them? I really barely knew Kevin.”

  “Tell them what you just told me,” he said.

  Lacey gauged the distance. Not long. “Did Kevin have any siblings?” she whispered.

  “Yes. A younger sister. Look to that small couch,” Eli said.

  Lacey saw a girl who appeared no more than a teenager, sitting close to an older woman, maybe an aunt. Her eyes were dry, but she looked shattered, almost in shock.

  Lacey suddenly saw herself in the girl. She couldn’t imagine—never wanted to imagine—what it would be like to lose Jimmy. Losing a cheating husband was life-changing in every way. Losing a beloved brother would be a devastation.

  Her heart ached. She whispered to Eli, “Their name is Horner?” She didn’t even know if Kevin’s name was real or a stage name.

  Eli nodded.

  The people in front of them moved on. They were face-to-face with the grieving parents.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Horner,” Eli began, his vulnerability resurfacing. Recognition lit up both their faces.

  Mrs. Horner stopped his words with an embrace.

  “Oh, Eli,” Mrs. Horner said, “thank you for all you’ve done. And thank you for being such a good friend to Kevin.”

  Eli nodded. A tear slipped down his face. Lacey was stunned at the sight of it.

  Mr. Horner grabbed Eli’s hand in a firm shake.

  “This is Lacey Becnel,” Eli said. “Kevin and I met Lacey whilst filming in New Orleans.”

  “Look how lovely you are,” Mrs. Horner said, embracing Lacey as well. Lacey felt something when they embraced, a pang in her solar plexus, and a radiating heat. Mrs. Horner held onto the embrace a second too long, and Lacey looked down at the floor when she disengaged, a little perplexed.

  “How is Holly?” Eli asked.

  Lacey looked up at the couple. Mrs. Horner gave her a sad smile, dissipating the awkwardness.

  “She’s having a very hard time with it,” Mr. Horner said.

  “Would you please go sit with her a spell?” Mrs. Horner asked.

  The teenaged girl—Holly, Lacey assumed—was now alone on the couch, her face in her hands.

  “Certainly,” Eli said. “Is there anything else we can do for you? Anything you need right now?”

  “Eli, you’ve already done so much,” Mr. Horner said. “Thank you. I know the words are insufficient.”

  “No, they’re not,” Eli said. He grabbed Lacey’s elbow.

  “I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” Lacey stuttered to the parents as Eli steered her toward the couch.

  That was insufficient, Lacey thought.

  Lacey and Eli stood over Holly on the grieving couch. Try as he might to be empathetic, Lacey thought he still might appear menacing to the young woman.

  Holly looked up at Eli through parted hands. “Who are you?” she asked.

  Lacey smiled. She’d wanted to ask Eli that question, in that same way, for months now.

  “I’ve seen you with my parents at the hotel,” Holly said, hands on her knees, revealing a face that was no longer tear-free.

  “I’m sorry, we were never properly introduced,” Eli said. “I’m Eli Bardzani. This is my friend, Lacey Becnel. May we sit?”

  Holly looked at Lacey and pushed to one side of the couch, silently telling her to sit next to her. Lacey smiled again and sat. She tried to think of something innocuous to say, that didn’t include anything that would make Holly think about her dead brother. Nothing came.

  “They’re staying up in Los Feliz,” Eli said. “Not too far from Griffith Observatory.”

  He gave Lacey an in. The planetarium, nestled on the southern slope of Mount Hollywood, was one of her favorite places in Los Angeles. The views were amazing.

  “Oh, Griffith Observatory is awesome,” Lacey said. “My brother has taken me there plenty of times.”

  Lacey winced right after she spoke. Way to not mention brothers, she thought. But it was impossible to think of Griffith Observatory without thinking of Jimmy.

  “So did Kevin,” Holly said. She perked up. “Well, he took me there once, at least.”

  Maybe that wasn’t such a blunder, Lacey thought.

  “You know, my brother moved out here a long time ago. On my very first visit, we went up there. Did you like it?” Lacey asked.

  “Yeah. I mostly liked the view of the city from up there,” she said.

  “Was it during the day, or at night?” Lacey asked.

  “Night,” Holly said. “Well, we got there during the day, but stayed until the sun set.”

  “It’s amazing to think of all those people down below, isn’t it?” Lacey asked.

  Holly nodded, then stared down at her lap again. Lacey glanced at Eli. He was expressionless.

  Lacey moved her right hand from her lap, and placed it on Holly’s knee. “I’m so sorry, Holly,” she said.

  This time was different from any other time. Lacey felt suddenly flush, but the heat didn’t radiate. Her arm went numb, almost instantly. Holly began to cry, hushed sniffles emanating from her. Lacey wanted to move her arm, maybe place it around Holly’s shoulders, but it wouldn’t budge. She had a lead weight attached to her shoulder.

  She finally managed to drop it to her side. Holly looked up.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Lacey wanted to ask “for what?” but the paralysis had moved to her throat. She gave Holly a weak smile.

  Eli grabbed her good arm by the elbow. Things started to get back to normal. Lacey felt her voice return, and thought of something to say.

  “Is there anything we can do for you, Holly? Anything I can get you? Some water, maybe?” Lacey asked.

  Holly nodded. “Yes, thank you. Would you, please?”

  Eli helped Lacey from the couch. “We’ll be right back, Holly,” Lacey said.

  Lacey flexed her right hand. She’d regained control, but her arm was electric with pins-and-needles sensation. She kept flexing her fingers as Eli led her away.

  “Eli, wha
t . . . ”

  “Wait until we can’t be overheard,” he said in a low voice.

  He led her outside. The harsh California sun was directly overhead. They walked toward a huge bougainvillea that offered no shade.

  “Do you recall my words about time and your ability?” Eli asked.

  “Yes, but I still don’t really understand.”

  “Your ability will manifest in ways that are as different as people are different. But the constant is time.”

  “Still not understanding . . . ”

  Eli shifted his position. It helped block the sun from shining directly into Lacey’s eyes.

  “Try to think of it this way. For trauma-caused injuries—bone breaks, lacerations, gunshot wounds—your ability can “warp” time. Speed up the healing process.”

  “So I can control time! But only for injuries?”

  “No,” Eli said, “Your presence, and the ability that you have, ‘tricks’ time, as it were. You have no control over it.” He stood, patient, motionless as a statue. Lacey thought of the Buddha.

  She sighed, shifted, and found the sun back in her eyes. She returned to her original position.

  “So what about other types of injuries?” she asked.

  “It’s different for those suffering emotional trauma, or chronic illness. Think about what just happened now.”

  Lacey bit her lip and cast her eyes downward. The sun was relentless.

  “I felt something when Mrs. Horner embraced me. But not the ‘my clothes are going to catch fire’ heat. But then, with Holly, it was very different, and very distinct. The only heat was the kind that accompanies pins-and-needles.”

  “And how did they each seem afterward?”

  Lacey thought about it. “Slightly better? A little less distraught? Or am I making that up?”

  “No, I noticed an amelioration, too. You needn’t be so distrustful of your gift, Lacey. It’s quite remarkable.”

  This was a side of Eli she’d been hoping for.

  “So, for things like that, I’m kind of like a respite? And, I’m just thinking this through, what did you mean by chronic illness?”

  “It’s an exponentially broad term. But it could mean things like hearing loss, or migraines, or neuropathy. And, that’s an appropriate way to think of it. Your ability provides a respite, but not a cure. Your presence can act like a balm.”