Killer Cocktail

by Tracy Kiely

  MELANIE (standing)

  Do I? ’Cause from where I’m sitting, it sure sounds a hell of a lot like the same crap I’ve heard from everyone else over the years, “How can Melanie Summers make me more money, and what can I get her to do to get it to me faster?” You’re no better than the studio heads who always try to cop a feel. The only difference is at least they’re up front about it. None of them ever pretended to be my friend. But I’ll give you credit for at least one thing, Sara. You helped me make up my mind. I know exactly what I’m going to do. And to hell with everyone who disagrees with me.

  Melanie throws her half-eaten sandwich on the ground and storms off to her trailer. Sara sits for a second in shock and then runs after her.

  SARA

  Melanie, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! Melanie! Please, listen to me!

  The sound of a door slamming can be heard, followed by loud knocking.

  SARA

  Melanie! Please let me in! Honey? I’m sorry!

  The camera swings back to John and Christina. John is staring at where Melanie ran to, his cigarette seemingly forgotten in his hand. Beside him, Christina sits still reading her magazine. Her hand is shaking. Barry walks toward them.

  BARRY

  You two ready to do the scene?

  JOHN (after a quick glance at Christina)

  Sure. Let’s do it.

  nine

  Barry Meagher was an assortment of exaggerated features. Six-feet-seven and reed thin, he walked with a kind of gangly swagger. His thick silver hair was virtually untamable; no matter how short he cut it, it still managed to stick out in every direction. Coal black eyes, deep laugh lines, a crooked nose, shaggy eyebrows, and a wide mouth made up his face. Alone, each feature was unremarkable, but when combined together, it added up to that mystical x-factor which makes silk purses and wealthy used-car salesmen possible.

  “Christina!” he now called out in his gravely voice. “What a night it’s been! Didn’t I tell you? It turned out just like I promised it would!” Christina rose from her chair, just as Barry enveloped her into an enormous hug. “I knew you were going to win the moment I saw the first rushes. You were brilliant!”

  Christina hugged him back, a girlish grin on her face. “I never could have done it without you. I’m so glad you won as well!”

  Barry smiled fondly down at her. It was no secret that Barry thought of Christina as the child he never had. He was both proud and protective of her, and most in the industry knew that to cross Christina was to cross Barry. “We make a good team,” Barry said now. “And speaking of teams, I am really pushing Frank to cast you opposite John in The Deposition.”

  Christina flushed and looked about to protest, when Barry lifted his hand in understanding. “I know things went to crap between you and John,” he said, “mainly because John is an immature ass. But you have to admit, despite his personal failings, you two do work well together. And this role is an Oscar waiting to happen.” He brandished his own Oscar as he added, “In the right hands, of course.”

  “I don’t know, Barry,” she began, but Janice cut her off.

  “Of course, she’ll take the role,” Janice answered. “Just let me know what I have to do to convince Frank.”

  Christina closed her eyes in silent frustration. Barry’s gaze slid to Janice. His lip twitched slightly. “Hello, Janice,” he said. “How are you tonight?”

  Janice gave an odd laugh. “Oh, just fine. You know me. Always doing what I can to support Christina.”

  “Oh, I know,” Barry said, as if in agreement. Something about his tone, however, suggested the opposite.

  A steely expression crept into Janice’s eyes. “People may think I’ve been pushy, but as a single parent I’ve had to do the work of two people.” Pasting a smile on her face she turned to Christina and added, “Not that I minded one minute of it, of course.”

  Behind her, Sebastian coughed and repeated, “Of course.”

  Barry glanced back at Christina before saying, “No one would dare say otherwise.”

  Janice squared her shoulders. “I’d like to see them try.” From her defiant tone, I wondered if she thought one of us was actually going to challenge her on this. Not surprisingly, no one did.

  Barry gave Christina’s arm a friendly squeeze, and he turned to the rest of our group. After shaking’s Sebastian’s hand, he focused on Mandy. Giving her a slow once over, he grinned and said, “Mandy, my dear. You look like a raspberry tart in that dress.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mandy replied with a wink. “After all, who can resist a raspberry tart?”

  “Very few people, I imagine,” Barry replied as he pulled her into a bear hug. “Certainly not me.”

  Mandy gave a light laugh and said, “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Only with you,” he said before his dark eyes focused on me. Releasing Mandy, he took a step toward me and said, “I never forget a pretty face. So I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

  Despite the obvious line, I found myself smiling in return. Barry Meagher certainly had charm. I extended my hand and said, “I’m Nicole Martini.” Tilting my head toward Nigel, I added, “This is my husband, Nigel.”

  Barry took my hand in his and held it while he turned to Nigel. His brows pulled up in surprise. His glance slid to Mandy and then back to Nigel. “Aren’t you the couple who found the tapes?” he asked.

  “That would be us,” Nigel confirmed.

  “Well, this is fortuitous,” Barry continued, still cradling my hand in his. “I was hoping to meet you.”

  “As was I,” Nigel said, as he held out his hand. As Barry was holding his Oscar in one hand and mine in the other, he was forced to relinquish one. It was no surprise when my hand was let go.

  “What a great find. When can we expect to see them?” Barry asked as he and Nigel shook hands.

  “Not for a few months yet,” Nigel said, reaching for my now free hand. “We still have a lot of editing ahead of us, and I want to tape some interviews with people who were on the set. It might help to put the footage into context for the viewer.”

  Barry nodded in approval. “Good idea,” he said. “I’d be happy to do what I can.”

  “We all will,” added Janice. “I think we can all agree that it’s vital that we make very sure that the final footage is an accurate portrayal of that time. We all know how easy it is to edit a story to sell a certain slant.”

  I was about to ask what slant she thought Nigel and I were planning to sell when a deep voice called out. “Christina! What a perfect night, eh?”

  Turning, I saw the original owner of our house, Frank Samuels, walking toward us with a purposeful stride. Although he was in his early seventies, he looked far younger. Tall with broad shoulders, he moved with an athletic gait. His beard and mustache, like the hair on his head, was grey and cut short. In this sense it was at odds with his eyebrows, which were jet black and bushy. Based on his striking similarity to the woman to his right, I guessed her to be his daughter, Danielle. While she lacked both his height and facial hair, she had the same hooked nose and wide-set brown eyes of her father.

  Accompanying them was John Cummings and Jules Dixon. Mandy made a soft pinging noise and in a low voice said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the ‘Shit’s About to Hit the Fan’ light so please fasten your seatbelts and place your tray tables in their upright position. It’s about to get messy.”

  Footage from the set of

  A Winter’s Night

  5/4/96

  John Cummings sits at a table off set with Christina. They are in costume and are playing gin rummy waiting for their next scene.

  JOHN

  What time do you need to be on set tomorrow morning?

  CHRISTINA (putting down a card)

  Eight. You?

  JOH
N (looking at his cards before answering)

  Not until ten. You want to come over?

  CHRISTINA (laughing)

  Are you kidding? I’d love to. However, I’m not sure if I can get past Cerberus.

  JOHN (puts down a card)

  Have you tried drugging her food?

  CHRISTINA (picking up a card)

  Sadly, unlike Sybil and Psyche, I’m all out of spiked honeycakes.

  JOHN (laughing)

  Well, there must be some way. Can’t you tell her that you have to be here at six and come to my place?

  CHRISTINA (shaking her head)

  No way. Ever since my kitchen scene got cut, she’s been watching my every move. She’s convinced that somehow I’m the reason Barry cut it.

  JOHN (puts down a card)

  You? What the hell could you have done wrong?

  CHRISTINA (shrugs and picks up a card)

  How much time do you have? Her theories range from my acting to my weight. But she’s making damned sure that it won’t happen again.

  JOHN (puts down a card)

  And how is she going to do that?

  CHRISTINA (picks up a card)

  The usual. Monitor everything that goes in and out of my mouth. All food and dialog must now meet with her approval.

  JOHN (puts down a card)

  Jesus, Chris. I don’t know how you put up with her.

  Behind them a trailer door opens. Barry quickly emerges. He does not notice John or Christina. He walks off in a different direction, tucking in his shirt as he goes.

  CHRISTINA

  Do you think his wife knows?

  JOHN (puts down a card)

  Cecelia? No way. She’d kill her if she knew.

  CHRISTINA (picks up a card)

  If I were Cecelia, I think I’d kill him.

  JOHN (shakes his head and puts down a card)

  Some women are like that. They always forgive the man and blame the other woman.

  CHRISTINA (pick up his card)

  Well, not me. I’d bash his head in. (puts down her hand) By the way, Gin.

  JOHN (groaning)

  Ugh! You always win!

  CHRISTINA (smiling)

  That I do.

  ten

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Sebastian said as we watched their approach. “And by cat, I mean Jules, because she’s nothing but a dirty …”

  “Shut it, Bash,” Christina snapped as she watched John and Jules’s approach with a stoic expression.

  Jules was your typical Hollywood starlet; a mash up of long blonde extensions, implausible breasts, a year-round tan, and blindingly white teeth. Her body was a kaleidoscope of sinuous movement. Her long hair swished, her lithe hips swayed, her round breasts shivered; all seemingly independent of one another. I watched with some admiration as her body gracefully shimmied out of the path of Seth Rogen’s and James Franco’s rather vigorous dance with an Oscar. Jules Dixon might not be able to act, but she sure as hell knew how to walk.

  As for John, he was one of those rare actors who is just as magnetic off the silver screen as he is on it. Six-feet-four and powerfully built, he was not a man you’d overlook. His face was a composition of sharp angles and hard lines, which was saved from being too severe by the addition of a generous mouth. With a slow curl of those lips, he could convey mischief, sincerity, and sex, all with devastating effect. For John, sex appeal was a part of his DNA, no different than the color of his skin and eyes.

  Christina opted to ignore them both and focused instead on Frank and Danielle. Seeing the Oscar that Danielle proudly held for her father, Christina said, “Congratulations on your win, Frank! What does this one make? Five Oscars for Best Producer?”

  Frank shook his head and winked. “Six. But this one goes to Danielle,” he said. “She’s my good luck charm.”

  “She certainly is,” agreed Christina before turning to Danielle. “It’s lovely to see you again, Danny,” she said, as she leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “How have you been?”

  The difference between the two women was striking, especially when you remembered that Christina, at thirty-nine, was actually four years older than Danielle. Christina was a product of Hollywood and it showed. Her skin had been pampered and polished into a perpetual dewy glow. Her lithe body was the result of years of personal trainers and strict diets. Her hair was a glossy mane of perfection.

  In contrast, Danielle looked like someone you might actually know. Behind the rectangular frames of her glasses, a few laugh lines had begun to gather. Her figure, while slim, had a softness to it that spoke of the occasional lazy morning in bed rather than at the gym. Her dark hair just brushed her shoulders, cut in a manageable style that didn’t require a full-time stylist.

  Danielle smiled. “I’ve been good, thanks. Working for my dad this past year has been a dream come true.”

  Frank wrapped his arm around his daughter’s shoulder and beamed proudly. “Danny’s a real chip off the old block,” he said. “She graduated with honors from Harvard just like her old man, and now she’s one of our top editors.”

  Danielle blushed with pride. “I’m not surprised,” said Christina. “I remember how much you loved film when you were younger. Speaking of which, this is the couple who found all your old tapes.”

  “It’s nice to meet you in person,” Danielle said with a shy smile. Nigel and I politely chatted with her and Frank for a few moments, while the rest of the group stood in awkward silence. Christina then turned to us and gestured to John and Jules. “This of course is John Cummings and his wife, Jules,” she said. Pausing she then added, “Jules is an actress, too.” This last part was said in the sing-songy voice a proud parent might use to announce successful potty-training. As if she just made a connection, Christina opened her eyes wide and said to Nigel, “Actually, you might already be familiar with Jules’s work.” By way of explanation, she turned to Jules and in a sweet voice explained, “Nigel’s company specializes in old and lost films.”

  Jules’s skin flushed red, and her eyes narrowed to angry slits. Next to me Mandy choked back a laugh, and then tried to cover it by pretending she was having a coughing fit. Leaning over, I patted her on the back to give the performance some credibility but I don’t think we were fooling anybody. Jules appeared about to lob her own verbal attack when a loud crash caught everyone’s attention.

  I turned to see James Franco sheepishly grinning at a waitress. On the floor between them lay a silver platter, the remains of several Red Velvet cupcakes, most of which were on Seth Rogen and one Oscar statue.

  An elegantly dressed woman standing to Franco’s right shook her head as she gingerly stepped over the mess. “I swear to God, James,” she said, as she moved next to Barry, “if there is so much as one dot of frosting on this dress, I’ll have your ass in a sling by sunrise.”

  Footage from the set of

  A Winter’s Night

  5/9/96

  Various members of the crew are taking food from the craft table. Melanie’s assistant, Sara, is among them. Her plate full, she walks past a table where John and Christina sit.

  CHRISTINA (looking up)

  Hi, Sara. Would you care to join us?

  SARA

  Thanks, but I’ve got to get Melanie her lunch first. It’s been a nightmare of a day so far. I’ve been running around all day doing errands for Melanie, and I couldn’t find this particular kind of tea she wanted, so she’s going to be furious.

  JOHN (laughing)

  As long as you’re working for Mel, every day is going to be one of those days.

  SARA (shooting John a stern look)

  You of all people should know about the stress she’s under, John. I would think you’d be a little more … sympathetic.

  JOHN (ducking his head)

 
You’re right, Sara. I’m sorry. Well, you don’t have to worry about getting her lunch. I think I saw Frank’s kid bring her a tray earlier.

  SARA (relieved. Takes a seat)

  God bless her. That’s one less thing I have to deal with.

  Off-camera, Barry is heard yelling for John.

  JOHN

  Coming, Barry! Later, Chris. Later, Sara.

  John shoves the final bite of his sandwich into his mouth and heads to Barry.

  SARA (taking a bite of salad)

  Oh, my goodness! This salad is delicious! Have you had any?

  CHRISTINA (her attention to where John just ran to)

  Yes, it’s pretty good.

  SARA

  Pretty good? It’s amazing. (takes another bite) God, I think I would sell my soul for this recipe.

  CHRISITINA (turning back and laughing)

  You’d sell your soul for lobster mac and cheese?

  SARA (her face freezing in horror)

  What? There’s lobster in this?

  CHRISTINA

  I think so. Well, in the sauce anyway. Why? What’s wrong?

  Sara does not answer. She leaps to her feet and runs off.

  eleven

  Barry smiled at the woman and said, “You do know how to make an entrance, Cecelia.”

  “Well, I came to get you to make an exit,” she said. “I’m beat. I want to go home and get out of this hair shirt of a dress. Remind me never to allow myself to be talked into wearing a gown that has a built-in corset. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

  “I’ll be sure to make a note of that,” said Barry. “But first, I think you might be interested to meet the couple that found those tapes.” Gesturing toward us, he said, “Nicole and Nigel Martini, this is my wife, Cecelia.”

  She blinked at us in surprise. I guessed her to be in her early fifties. Her long black hair was pulled back into a simple bun. Shrewd green eyes peered out of a face that had been allowed to tan and age. It wasn’t so much beautiful as it was noteworthy. Cocking her head to one side, she asked, “So, you’re the ones who bought my brother’s old house?” She threw a quick glance at Frank before continuing. “How do you like it? Is that garish statue of the well-endowed mermaid still in the backyard?”