Hollywood Ending

by Kellye Garrett

  He placed the envelope a counter, shut the door behind him, and walked to his bike. Aubrey didn’t run late. He was gone before I could even ask him where he was going. Something was up. Once again, I flashed on the idea of him investigating without me. Maybe he realized he didn’t need me after all.

  I was late, but in my defense, it was nearly impossible to find parking. It didn’t help that a tour bus took up four spaces in the already too tight parking lot. I was pretty sure it belonged to one of the hosts, Mack Christie—the down-home Texas boy apparently so scared to fly that he traveled everywhere in a deluxe apartment on wheels.

  Once inside, a PA rushed me backstage since they’d already started. The Silver Sphere Award Nominee Conversation Series setup looked more like a Broadway production than a press conference. It didn’t help that it literally took place on a stage. One that had a gray rug and a row of life-size Silver Sphere Awards anchoring both sides of the stage. Someone had also set up a six-foot-tall portrait of Lyla’s face.

  SSO President Gus the Gossip held court at a podium in front and waxed poetic about Lyla’s life. Sienna and I watched from offstage right. Emme had refused the invitation. Dante stood a few feet in front of us. He’d dressed up for the occasion, wearing a black suit with a matching black arm sling. I didn’t recall him having it before. That had to be Nina’s idea. Sienna wore red, of course. I’d opted for yellow. It was as close to a signature color as I had.

  “Lyla was a valued member of the Silver Sphere Organization, and in her honor the award for Best Director will now be rechristened the Lyla Davis Award for Best Directing,” Gus said.

  The crowd of journalists all clapped. Normally this would have been quite unprofessional, but conveniently they were all Silver Sphere members. Nonmembers could watch the proceedings on television like the rest of the mortals. Gus waited for the applause to die down and proceeded. “But we’re not here just to honor the life of a great woman, we’re here to honor the everyday heroes instrumental in bringing her killer to swift justice.”

  More applause. “First, I’d like to introduce Lyla’s driver, Dante Brooks, who heroically took a bullet to the arm in an attempt to save Lyla’s life.”

  Sienna and I watched Dante walk onstage and shake Gus’s hand. As they posed for a photo in front of Lyla’s six-foot face, I second-guessed my decision to come to this thing. Nina rushed by, walkie attached to her ear. I stopped her. “Do I have to stand in front of Lyla’s photo?”

  “That a problem?”

  “Well yeah, it’s kinda weird to receive a check while the dead girl literally looks on.”

  Nina sighed, then looked at me like I was the one in bad taste. “Lyla was a publicist. This is how she would have wanted it. You are going to go out there. You are going to smile. And, most importantly, you are not going to forget to stop on the black X so the camera guys can get the right angle.”

  And with that pep talk, she was gone. Onstage, Gus continued. “And now, our final featured guests, the people responsible for identifying the murderer: Dayna Anderson and Sienna Hayes.” Gus looked over at us expectantly.

  Sienna ran onstage like she was competing in the 100-meter dash. She would have gotten gold in the last Olympics. I took a bit longer, reminding myself the money would help a lot of people, my parents included. Gus continued his spiel. “These two beautiful women linked Javon Reid to Lyla’s tragic demise thanks to a tattoo and our Cocktail Party swag bag. I always said those bags were good for more than just freebies.”

  The audience laughed on cue even though it wasn’t funny. At all. Gus turned to us. “We’d like to invite you to be our very special guests at this year’s awards. You will come, right?”

  Most definitely not. Luckily, Gus didn’t wait for us to answer.

  “You all are simply amazing! And I’m not the only one who feels this way. This is the first year our hosts are also nominees. They are two of the biggest stars in the world and one of Hollywood’s greatest love stories. And they’ll finally answer all our prayers by starring in a film together when $3000 begins shooting next month. Ladies and gentlemen, Mack Christie and his equally talented wife Janet Christie, aka J. Chris.”

  Yes, the same J. Chris we’d used in our Wheelhouse scheme. They came from stage left. At first I thought J. Chris’s red glitter bomb of a blazer had me so blind I was seeing things because it looked like they were each holding one side of the biggest check I’d ever seen. Then my eyes cleared and I realized they were indeed holding a check like the ones they give lotto winners.

  I stood there dumbfounded while Mack and J. Chris handed the check to Sienna and me, then stood on each side of us like extremely attractive, extremely famous bookends. The journalists went full paparazzi, yelling J. Chris and Mack’s names in hopes they’d look directly at their camera phones. The collective flash made the deep red of J. Chris’s blazer pop. She smiled, rocking her signature red lip. She wore no other color.

  “J. Chris, over here.”

  “Mack, look this way.”

  Sienna instinctively turned in whatever direction the Christies did while I just stood there wishing for my new second-most-wanted superpower. The ability to blink my eyes and be magically transported to my bedroom. After a few pain-filled minutes, it was over. “Now it’s time for questions with our heroes and hosts,” Gus said.

  Questions? Nina had promised me I wouldn’t have to speak.

  On cue, a few stage hands brought a set of three chairs. There were six of us onstage. Since this was a conversation series, not a press conference, Nina had bypassed the normal setup of a row of chairs in front of a long table, instead opting for higher director chairs. The stagehands set two next to each other and angled them so they faced the third. I briefly wondered if they expected us to play musical chairs for a seat, but I didn’t have to worry. The chairs were clearly not for us. Gus took the single while the Christies took the other two.

  I guess us “heroes” were expected to stand behind them. Not knowing what to do with the check, I tried to hand it to a stagehand. He ignored me, impressive considering I was waving a three-foot piece of cardboard in his face. “Let’s get this conversation started!” Gus said. “Let’s start with questions about the tragic incident. Ernest, you go first.”

  Ernest stood up. “Yes. Janet, did you get a chance to personally thank Dayna and Sienna for their role in solving Lyla’s murder?”

  She didn’t. “I did. I couldn’t resist giving them both big hugs.”

  Yeah right. There were rumors J. Chris hated if non-celebrities did two things: touch her or look her directly in the eye. Maybe she thought we were all Medusa and she didn’t want to turn to stone.

  “Lyla was a close personal friend and we still can’t believe she’s gone,” J. Chris added. “It’s such a blow, but I know she’d want the show to go on.”

  She sounded so much like Nina that I briefly wondered if Nina had given her talking points.

  “When was the last time you spoke with her?”

  “At the Nominee Cocktail Reception. I gave her a hug and told her what an amazing job she was doing. I’ve been involved with SSO for years and Lyla was by far the best publicist they’ve had.”

  That clearly was not in any talking points. Nina would have had her say “second best.”

  It went on like this for another ten painful minutes, the journalists peppering J. Chris and Mack with questions while the rest of us stood in the background like movie extras. Finally, I saw Nina doing a wrap-it-up motion off to the side. Gus must’ve had eyes in the back of his head because he said, “That’s all we have time for. Up next we’ll have a quick roundtable conversation with our Best Actress in Television nominees.”

  The Christies stood up and smiled as more cameras flashed, then we all formed a line to walk offstage. Mack, J. Chris, Sienna, the check, me, and Dante. Sienna was in a super good mood because she instinctively reac
hed out and gave J. Chris a hug. I gasped as camera flashes went off all around me.

  I fully expected J. Chris to disengage from Sienna’s impulsive embrace as quickly as possible so she could launch her cell phone at her, grenade-style. But J. Chris didn’t pull away. Instead, she hugged her back. The attendees ate it up.

  After what felt like a minute, which is like two days in hug-time, Sienna was the one who disengaged. J. Chris shocked me again by grabbing Sienna’s hand and leaning in. “Thank you again for finding Lyla’s killer.”

  Maybe the gossip mill was wrong about her. It wouldn’t be the first time. See: Tomari. I watched, happy, as she and Sienna strode hand-in-hand backstage.

  As soon as we were five feet from the cameras, J. Chris pushed Sienna, causing her to bump her thigh on yet another life-size Silver Sphere Award the stagehands were bringing onstage. Sienna bounced off it like a basketball.

  J. Chris spoke. “Touch me again and I will sue you for assault.”

  Nine

  I was poised to pounce in defense of Sienna’s honor, but J. Chris yelled before I had a chance to yell first. “Nina,” she screamed. “I thought my people made it clear in my rider that I was to be the only one wearing red!”

  And with that she was off, leaving us alone with her husband. I happily turned my ire on him, but he must’ve been used to dealing with people upset about his wife being upset first. “I’m really sorry about that,” he said. “She’s really been stressed lately.”

  He was about to say more, but J. Chris called his name and he scurried after her like a rat in the subway. I glanced at Sienna, who had her skirt hiked up and was peeking at her injured thigh. Thankfully, there was no blood. “You’ll probably bruise.” I said.

  “God, I hope so. I want to take a pic of it and frame it. Think she’d autograph it?”

  Something told me the answer was no. “Maybe if you offered to use your blood. I’m sorry that happened.”

  “It’s fine. Like Mack said, J. Chris is probably stressed out about Anani’s big blind.” Realizing what she’d said, Sienna slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.” Her voice was muffled. “I said the A-word.”

  The A-word was Anani Miss. Sienna was as obsessed with the blog as I used to be, so it was a testament to how much she loved me that she hadn’t mentioned it. I knew she probably was dying to when Anani had done her big blind a few weeks before. Anani was known for her weekly blind item day where she shared gossip about celebs. These were usually more juicy than scandalous, but she still wouldn’t name who it was about. It was way more fun to guess.

  The big blind was an entire different level, which meant it got its own separate post. It had become an annual tradition on the site, always happening around the same time and always the most scandalous piece of gossip you’d find on the site all year long. Unlike a lot of the posts on blind item day, Anani always revealed the people in her big blind, normally after returning from her annual month-long hiatus. I knew Sienna had probably been dying to discuss it.

  “Fine. Tell me, what is it?”

  Sienna happily removed her hand from her mouth. “It’s about an A-list singer who’s been using someone else’s voice their entire career. The popular guess is J. Chris.”

  I refused to be interested. “Well, the attitude is real even if the voice is not.”

  “Amen.”

  Dante walked up just then as Sienna continued on. “You’re coming to the Silver Sphere Awards with me, right? Since Omari is bringing his mom.” She could sense my hesitation because she grabbed my arm and gave me puppy dog eyes. “It’ll be fun. We’ll get our hair and makeup done. I know you used to love that.”

  I did, but still.

  “And imagine the sightings,” she said. “You’re going to be laughing all night.”

  I would, but still.

  “And what if Omari wins? Don’t you want to be there to see it?”

  I did, but still.

  “I really want to go but I don’t want to go by myself. I want my best friend to come with me. Please.”

  I glanced at Dante, who wore an amused expression like a well-tailored suit. I turned back to Sienna. “Fine.” I’d do it, but only for her.

  She smiled. “It’s settled. You coming to the green room? There’s food in there.”

  “No, I gotta find Nina and trade this for the real thing.” I held up the check.

  Sienna left us in the name of celebrities and snacks. Dante still had that slight smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d cave so quick.”

  “Resistance is futile when Sienna wants something,” I said. “Plus she’s right about the sightings. You and I can sit in the back of the auditorium and laugh at everyone.”

  “Thanks but no thanks. Only way I’m going anywhere near that thing is if someone pays me to drive them there.” He pointed at the check. “Thought you were about to use that check to commit assault with a deadly weapon.”

  “Oh, I was.”

  “I drove J. Chris here. What you got was her best behavior. First, she wouldn’t let me drive my own car. I had to drive one of theirs. Then she went ballistic because it was too hot. Then went even more ballistic because it was too cold.”

  “I would have left her on the side of the road.”

  “I was tempted, but then I remembered my thousands of dollars in hospital bills.”

  I motioned to his sling, which held a heavily bandaged arm. “Thought it was just a surface wound.”

  “It is. Nina thought it’d be better if I wore this. Something about keeping with the mood.” He looked at me, then. “Did I thank you yet? For finding the guy who did this?” He motioned to his arm.

  I, in turn, motioned to the cardboard megacheck. “I want to give you part of the reward.” He looked at me like I had three heads. “Well, not part of this check, exactly.”

  He laughed. “I figured. Still, I couldn’t do that. I didn’t do anything.”

  “Except get shot.”

  “I definitely got shot. Still, I can’t take it.”

  “You can and you will.” I let him know exactly how much I wanted to give him.

  He let out a whistle. “You’re right. I can and will take that.”

  “Great. I’m going to find Nina so I can get our money. Maybe I can do direct deposit. Have the money for you tomorrow or the day after.”

  He nodded and we said our goodbyes. Backstage was a mass of people, half of whom probably didn’t have to be there. The publicists. The assistants. The managers. The random hangers-on. I found Nina standing outside the green room, where they kept talent happy at these sorts of events.

  Nina spoke into a walkie. A woman stood next to her. If I had to cast her, she was a shoo-in to play the action star’s surly teenaged daughter. Bad hair. Worse skin. Body shaped like a pink highlighter. She was practically the same color, too. Of course she actually didn’t look much like a seventeen-year-old up close, but then neither did the people Hollywood always cast to play them.

  “We need the Best Actor in Television nominees onstage in five,” Nina said. “Anyone have eyes on Grant?”

  “Right here.”

  Omari came up behind us. I would’ve kissed him but it would have been classified as a public display of affection. Knowing my thoughts on that, he didn’t even try. Instead, he glanced at the check in my hands. “You bringing that to my place tonight?”

  “Not if I can help it,” I said. “Nervous?”

  The journalists out there were also conveniently the ones who would be voting for the Silver Sphere Award winners. This was Omari’s big chance to impress them. He shrugged. “Brandon Marlowe’s won four times in a row. They’re going to make it five.”

  The fact that he’d studied his competition said more than his actual words. I didn’t point that out, though. “Maybe they’ll want to spice it up.”

 
“Maybe, but they love him. Probably because he’s like an open book. You know I don’t talk about anything private.”

  “Then go semi-private. Give them some cute soundbite, like how you’re bringing your mom to the show because she made so many sacrifices for your college fund, how happy she was when you got that degree in drama.”

  Actual drama, not the type you saw on reality TV shows.

  Omari laughed. “She did bring that huge ‘Congrats Omari’ sign to graduation.”

  “Yes! They’ll love that. Don’t think of it as sharing too much about your private life. Think about it as honoring your mom.”

  He didn’t respond, but I could tell by his smile he was thinking about it. He glanced at me again, this time giving me—not the check—a once-over. When he looked up, he wore a naughty smile. “You looked great out there, by the way.”

  I blushed. Just as he was about to say something else, Nina practically yanked him away. “He needs to be onstage now. Kitt can take him.”

  Someone clearly wasn’t a fan of public flirtation and I had a sneaking suspicion why. Tomari. I rolled my eyes, then covered it with a smile when I realized Omari was still eyeing me. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let him know how much Nina annoyed me, and I’d almost slipped up. He glanced over his shoulder at me as the woman next to Nina—apparently Kitt—led him toward the stage. “Let’s do Chinese tonight.”

  Nina watched until Kitt and Omari were nothing more than specks, then tried to get around me.

  Like I was going to let that happen. I casually blocked her with the three-foot reward check. Glad it was handy for something. “So where can I trade this in for the real thing?” She just stared at me, so I tried to explain. “The reward money. I know you don’t expect me to fit this in my ATM.”

  “Oh, about that … ”

  Nothing good ever starts with “About that … ”

  “We haven’t gotten in all the donations from the nominees, but we will,” Nina said. “And as soon as we do, it’s all yours.”