by Etta Faire
She chucked it at her husband’s feet as hard as she could. It didn’t explode like she wanted it to.
“What the…” he asked, stumbling to jump over it.
Mandy got another can out of the cooler for herself. “I just wanted to make sure you saw they had more than beer here. I heard you should drink a Diet Coke first, then wait ten minutes to see if you’re still thirsty before having a beer. I’m just looking out for you, babe. I don’t want you to die from beer gut.”
The room had gone quiet. The young people were all covering their mouths, but Mandy could tell they were laughing.
She cracked open her Diet Coke, took a long sip, then balanced her plates out to the backyard, looking for a spot some place where she could eat by herself.
Great, she thought to herself. Another episode she was going to have to blame on menopause later.
“Graham was always like this around the guys, especially Barry and Ned,” Mandy said to me in our head. “But looking back, I see just how horrible he was. Our marriage was done, but I hadn’t seen it then. I just thought we were having problems.”
“We’ll figure out who murdered you,” I said. “It might not have been Graham. Having marital problems and committing murder are two completely different things, most times.”
Hank was sitting under a tree, taking pictures of a golden Lab who was sniffing at the leftover paper plates strewn around Ruth’s lawn. The dog sniffed the empty plate next to a man sleeping on a hammock, then eyed the full plate sitting under the hammock on top of some water skis. The dog tugged on the bright yellow ski rope, easily bringing out the skis and the food without waking the guy.
“That’s one smart dog,” Mandy said to Hank. “Is he yours?”
“No. He’s a gorgeous Lab, though. Good bird dog too.” Hank took a long drag off his cigarette and pointed with it. “See how he’s always watching the birds around here. He’s eating, but he’s got an eye out on the trees and the birds. Man, I’d love to take him hunting.”
I tried to get a closer look, to check for the scar on the tip of his nose, but I didn’t actually need to. I knew my own dog. It was Rex.
He was a good bird dog.
“You hungry?” Mandy asked when she noticed Hank didn’t have a plate in front of him.
“That food’s meant for the crew,” he said.
“Who says? Half these people aren’t crew.” She handed him one of her tacos and a sugar cookie, and he smiled at her. “Besides, you’re paparazzi.”
He blinked at her, smoke circling his face. “Papa what?”
Mandy laughed nervously. “Paparazzi. You know, indie photographers who take pictures of celebrities.” She sat down beside him. “It was a joke.”
He put his cigarette out in one of the empty beer cans laying around. “You’re all celebrities to me.”
Mandy smiled, but she hardly felt like a celebrity. “My son’s gonna be here after he finishes work. You sticking around? You could take more photos…”
“Yeah,” he said, biting into his taco. “I heard from some of the crew that everyone’s heading over to Slappy’s again tonight. I’ll be there with my friend, Vern. You going?”
Mandy shook her head no. “It’s not my scene,” she said. “Plus, I want to look over the dailies. I’m going to try to save this movie.”
He nodded. “Good luck.”
She pushed her lips together and took a small sip of Diet Coke.
Hank went on. “I thought this movie was gonna be a Toppletree production. But it’s just another Ned Reinhart slasher crap-fest.”
She set the Coke down on the ground beside her, balancing it between some blades of grass. She didn’t know what to say to that. “I can’t do anything. I’m just an actress in this movie,” she said. Then, she added in her head, “An actress who’s about to lose all her savings and her reputation when this crap-fest hits the theaters.”
Olivia bounced over to her mom with a plate of triangular-cut watermelon slices, big black seeds poking out of the red flesh. “Look what I saved for us,” she said.
Mandy stood back up and took one of the watermelon slices from her daughter. They did a cheers-ing motion with them.
Hank held up his camera, and they recreated the pose for him. U2 blared from a nearby boombox. I could tell it was the end of a long day. There was a collective feeling of relief on the set. The movie was almost finished, and everyone felt that jolt of expectation mixed with worry. It felt good to be almost done, but no one knew what was going to happen next.
A tall kid with short auburn hair strutted over to us in torn jeans and a t-shirt. “Dad’s all upset because I didn’t play the game right,” he said to Mandy.
“Ohmygod, stop being such a dweeb,” Olivia chimed in from Mandy’s side. “The game is not that hard. Just smile and nod when you’re around dad. I even know that.”
“My son, Frederick,” Mandy said to Hank. “And my daughter, Olivia.” She turned to her kids. “This is Hank. He’s a custodian who works with Mrs. Locke. He’s just here hanging out.”
“Paparazzi,” Hank said, holding up his camera while Frederick and Mandy hugged.
Neither kid said hello to Hank, and Frederick went back to talking to his mom. “Dad introduced me to Mr. Locke, again, like I didn’t meet him the other three times I came on set. This time they were talking about an internship. And afterward, Dad pulled me aside and lectured me on wearing torn jeans. Can you believe it? I’m a nineteen-year-old kid, not some homeless derelict.” He looked over at Hank when he said that last part.
Hank pretended not to notice. He just petted Rex.
Mandy put her arm around her son. “Honey, it’s just… you still haven’t declared a major. And I think your dad just wants you to make a wise decision. That’s all.” She motioned around at the backyard. “Let’s be honest. There’s clearly a lot of money in financial planning. And it’s been a rough road for us theater geeks.” She pinched his cheek, noticing just how much he looked like Graham had twenty-five years ago. The same pointy chin, same hair color. “He just doesn’t want you to end up a janitor or something.”
Hank scowled at her and walked away.
Colorful bulb lighting had been strung along the back patio, and the lights popped on as the sun continued to set.
Mandy stared at the empty spot where Hank had just been sitting. It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She hadn’t meant to offend him. Sometimes, things just came out wrong when she said them.
Another menopausal moment, she thought to herself. She was having too many of those. Or maybe, she was using it as an excuse too many times.
She and her kids sat in Hank’s old spot while Mandy ate.
Frederick was still talking about how his torn jeans weren’t just a fashion statement. “I’d love to dress better,” he said, reminding Mandy of herself when she was in college.
She had tried her hardest to provide more for her kids than her parents had, and she’d succeeded.
Neither one had to work their way through college like she had had to. Sure, Frederick held a three-hour job Friday afternoons working at one of the dorms as part of the work-study program, but he wasn’t paying his own tuition or room and board.
She looked over at him. He was talking about his car now and how no one else had to drive a beat-up VW Bug from 1976 with the worst paint job ever. They made fun of him for it.
At one point in the conversation, Olivia got up and left to “go see what Dad was doing.”
“This one guy I know doesn’t even have to do work study or anything. He inherited like 70,000 dollars when his mom died. He drives a Corvette. Newer than Dad’s Harley,” Frederick said.
Mandy savored the last bite of cookie, hardly listening. “That’s nice, I guess. But he lost his mom. I’m sure he’d rather have his mom.”
Frederick picked at a loose strand in the stitching of his cheap leather bracelet, running it in his fingers. “Dad says I can get a new car.”
“N
ew? I don’t think he said new,” she said, looking into her son’s eyes, waiting for him to laugh and tell her he was joking. “As in drive-it-off-the-lot new? I’ve never even had a new car.”
He shrugged. “Well, that’s what he said.”
She brushed cookie crumbs from her lap. “And how did your dad say he was going to pay for this new car?” Her jacket felt too tight again. The financials were getting out of control. She needed to check everything when she got home.
“He said this movie was going to make money. He had a cash cow now.”
Mandy thought about that one. How could her husband think they were going to have a cash cow off of one crappy movie? They’d been down this road many times before.
But she knew if she brought this up to Graham, he would tell her she was being negative again. Every movie was different. Every movie was a chance. And this one was going to have Ned’s name on it.
The evening lost its last bits of light, and after a while, Frederick and Olivia told Mandy they had to go study, which Mandy knew really meant they were going to go party with their own friends back on campus, and Graham was nowhere to be found.
It was better that way, Mandy told herself as she picked up paper plates and stuffed them into one of the trash bags Ruth had left on the patio table as a hint. Mandy was the only one who caught it. No one else even bothered to pick up their own trash. The place was a mess.
Always the mom character now.
Someone yelled that it was time to hit the bars, and Mandy felt that twinge of jealousy run through her bones. The same one she felt whenever she got picked last to play baseball in P.E. back in high school.
It was obvious they meant everyone but her. She hadn’t had the nerve to tell Hank that she wasn’t going to the bars tonight because she hadn’t been invited.
Things quieted down quickly as she picked up the trash, feeling a little too much like the janitor.
She tossed another couple plates into the large black Hefty bag, barely able to see much by the lights strung in the backyard.
It was getting late. I had no idea if Mandy’s killer was already watching her, waiting to make his or her move. I looked for anything suspicious out of the corner of Mandy’s eyes in the bushes and trees around us. I didn’t see anything out of place, but I couldn’t see much in the darkness.
Then the backyard lights went out all at once.
Chapter 21
Improv
She realized everyone had left, including her husband. He hadn’t said goodbye again.
The backyard was quiet, with just the sounds of crickets and the lake, an occasional wave smacking against the dock. The lights of the various houses around her twinkled in the background, like a distant audience watching her every move, but unable to offer anything to help her see things clearly.
She somehow stumbled to the patio room, which was even darker, except for the one light coming from the interior of the house. She could hear Ruth and Barry in the kitchen arguing.
She stopped moving, allowing her eyes to adjust a little more.
They obviously had no idea she was there. They probably thought everyone had gone to the pub.
“Look at this mess. I’m so sick of it. They’re paying for a cleaning crew,” Ruth said in that fed-up voice she always used when they were dorm mates and Mandy left out even one tissue or a candy wrapper.
“I already talked to Graham about it. He said they have a cleaning crew in the budget.”
“A cleaning service we choose,” she added. “Not one of their lazy teenagers with a sponge and a Walkman.” She paused and lowered her voice.
It was too low for Mandy to hear anymore. Mandy moved in closer, staying along the back wall so they wouldn’t notice her, careful of the patio furniture and the trash scattered around the floor.
She took deliberate, slow, quiet steps, stopping just before the sliding glass door. She could see the legs of the kitchen table and some shadows on the floor, but nothing else.
“So, you agree, she did that on purpose?” Ruth asked.
“Had to be her. She writes everything,” Barry added.
“It was like she wanted to bring it all up again. Taunt me about it. I mean, it’s fine if you guys are calling in your favor. But to make me relive it all. Ask me to look at the blue notes. And, you should have heard her earlier. Trying to put my life down. Our life. Like we’re the desperate ones here. And after all we’ve done for them.”
“They have something to hold over our heads, so they’re holding it. They’re desperate, all right, but we’re desperate too… That’s how blackmail works…” Barry stopped talking like he heard something. “Shhhh.”
Mandy held her breath and moved closer to the wall. Her cheek pressed against the rough wood paneling of the back side of the patio room. It smelled like Pine-Sol. Her nose tickled, and she held in a sneeze.
She knew her husband had footage of the fire from way back when, the 16 mm film canister tucked away somewhere labeled “Home Movies 1975” so no one would ever break it out. But she’d only seen parts of it once, right after the fire. She saw enough to know why Barry and Ruth were worried, though. The video showed Barry and Ned joking around with fire, even as it grew out of control. Mandy had rushed the baby out, not Ruth.
Calling in the favor right now was blackmail, no doubt about it. Graham was essentially blackmailing their friends. But why on earth would her friends think she was the one behind it?
After a few seconds, Barry lowered his voice and continued. “Graham promised me it’s over. He’s getting rid of that film after they leave. He even brought it with him.”
“Sure,” Ruth said sarcastically. “Like they don’t have a million copies of it.”
“But, he wants me to get Frederick a job at Creating Capital first, if you can believe it. I told Graham I could possibly swing a paid internship.”
“Adding to the favor… It’s just like them to do that,” Ruth said.
“But I told Graham that when Felix takes over for his dad at the end of the year, everything’s changing. All bets are off. I can’t guarantee the twit’s internship. And rumor has it, Felix is going to gut everything. ‘I’m going to trim the fat my dad was too sentimental to cut,’ he keeps saying. That’s code for no one is safe. Not even me.”
“He won’t fire you,” Ruth said. “We saved that kid’s life.”
“Yeah, except we didn’t. The internship. The footage. It’s really crappy timing.”
“I know. Maybe it’s time we just paid the piper and admitted everything about that fire,” Ruth said. “We can take the hit.”
“Only if we have to,” Barry replied. “We could lose way too much.”
Ruth muttered something under her breath that Mandy knew was an expletive aimed at her.
She leaned against the scratchy paneling, taking it all in. Graham was blackmailing their friends and pulling her into the mess. It was disgusting and criminal.
But Frederick would have his internship, which he needed because no one was giving him a break. And she and Graham would have their movie and be able to fix some of the financial problems they were going through because Ned’s name would be on it.
These were all good things that friends should do for friends, especially friends who had asked them to keep their secrets for so long, to lie for them.
Did the reason why they were doing her and Graham favors really matter? Was blackmail really that bad when they were only asking for the things they shouldn’t have to ask for?
Sometimes, keeping a secret was just as bad as the secret itself.
She thought she heard their voices growing softer, their footsteps leading away, and she let herself take a nice long exhale. She’d been holding her breath for far too long.
She turned to leave. She still needed to look through the footage from the last couple of days. Graham said he’d change anything she didn’t like, and she was going to hold him to it.
Maybe she could find the footage from 1962 a
s well. Barry said Graham brought it with him, but he wouldn’t leave something so important just lying around.
The patio room light flicked on, and Barry stepped into the room. “What the…?” he said when he saw her.
Mandy held in a gasp and stood up like she was merely walking through.
“Mandy?” Barry said. “How long have you been standing here, in the dark?”
Mandy laughed. It was time for her acting skills to come into play. Improv.
She shrugged. “Oh hey, Barry. I tell you, I will never be able to find the light switch in any of these rooms of yours.” She pointed awkwardly in no real direction. “I was just on my way to get a little work done in the screening shack. So nice of you and Ruth to find a spot for us to set that up, by the way. Everything has been top notch. But I just wanted to make sure someone put those leftovers away. You know me. Ever the mom…”
She looked around the now-bright patio room where the taco spread had been set up before. The caterers had cleaned up their part. There was no cart full of tacos and sides. No plates of cookies. But there was still a huge mess. Balled-up napkins and spilled food all over the patio table, couches, and floor.
“We’ll clean this up later,” she said.
He was staring at her, with bushy, slanted eyebrows that told her he wasn’t buying one bit of her improv. He knew she’d been eavesdropping.
She scooted by a chair. It screeched along the tile floor. “I was also hoping to get a little snack.”
She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but she knew Barry would believe she wanted a snack.
He moved away from the door and made a sweeping motion with his arm. “By all means. My house is your house, for now. But, we’re done.”
She knew he meant the kind of done that ended friendships for good. He stared at her like he wanted to wring her neck. She told herself she didn’t care. Barry and Ruth hadn’t been the best kind of friends, anyway.