by Nic Saint
“She is, after all, the Queen of Hollywood,” said Odelia. “Did you have a chance to chat with Alina’s husband?”
“Yeah, actually I did. He seems like a good guy. Said something about his wife having suffered a migraine this afternoon and almost deciding not to come down for dinner.”
“She didn’t look like she was suffering from a headache.”
“The magic of Ibuprofen, no doubt. Reinhart said she suffers migraines so frequently she carries a small pharmacy wherever she goes.”
“And here I thought she was tipsy.”
Next to them, Kimberlee’s boyfriend was taking a selfie with his girlfriend. He looked as impressed with the setup as they were.
“His name is Zoltan Falecki,” said Chase, following Odelia’s gaze. “He’s a hockey player and a pretty great guy. First-time invitee to this famous bash.”
“This is a famous bash?”
“Apparently it is. Every time Emerald wraps a project, she invites the main cast to her house. A way for her to stay in touch with her co-stars. Get to know them a little better.”
“And to assert her superiority,” said Odelia.
Chase grinned. “You said it.”
The moment had come: the lights in the room were dimmed, and suddenly there she was: the queen herself. Emerald Rhone, resplendent in a long black gown with plunging neckline, a diamond necklace adding even more luster.
“Oh. My. God,” murmured Chase, and Odelia couldn’t have put it better.
Chapter 5
“My beloved friends!” Emerald said, as her diamonds shimmered intoxicatingly. “Welcome to my humble abode!”
Loud cheers rang out around the table, and Odelia had the distinct impression this was a ritual many of those present had gone through before. Then she remembered this was the second season of Big Little Secrets that had been broadcast, so these same people had been here before, exactly one year ago, presumably without any media people present.
“My darlings,” said Emerald with a smile on her face as she glanced around the room. She spread her arms to encompass all those present. “I’m happy—so happy to see all of your lovely faces here tonight. This business of ours can be cutthroat sometimes, and it’s moments like these that remind us all that in spite of that, friendships do exist and thrive—only if we let them!”
“Hear hear,” said Abbey, raising her glass and taking a sip.
“I invited you all here because I admire you—powerful ladies—beautiful ladies—gorgeous creatures!”
Loud laughs and whoops around the room, then Emerald gestured for silence.
“But most importantly because I love you all.” She raised her own glass. “May you prosper and be happy beyond compare. And know that you’ll always have a staunch friend and ambassador in me—salut!”
“Salut!” Alina shouted, and all glasses were now raised.
“Oh, and before I forget!” Emerald said, “I wanted to give a shout-out to one person in particular.” She cast a loving glance in Kimberlee Cruz’s direction. “Kimberlee.” She laughed. “My sweet, darling Kimberlee. How you have grown—how you have blossomed—how you have turned into ... me!”
Laughs around the room at this, though not from Kimberlee, who seemed stunned at so much praise. Her hand clutching her chest, she stared at Emerald with a mixture of surprise and adoration.
“This year marks my fiftieth year in show business—my fiftieth year! I’ll be seventy next month, and someone told me—oh, where is he... my rock, my support? My…” She gestured with her glass to her husband Pete. “Pete reminded me that it is customary in the private sector to retire at sixty-five, and by those standards I’m long overdue! In all seriousness, though, his words hit home. I am long past my prime—no, no,” she said, raising a hand when the group protested. “It’s true. Of course there are those who say that, like a fine wine, actors get better with age. I’m not so sure about that!” She raised her glass again. “If there’s anyone I see as my successor it’s you, my beloved Kimberlee. Here’s to many wonderful years in the business. Salut, my sweet.”
Kimberlee, who’d gasped at these words, murmured her thanks.
Odelia wondered whether any of this was real, or just for show. She did have the impression that the other women were not too pleased by this surprise endorsement of Kimberlee as the successor to the reigning queen of Hollywood. Alina, in particular, seemed utterly shocked, if her expression was anything to go by, and was whispering furiously to her husband.
Abbey had an enigmatic smile plastered on her face, which could well be hiding her own displeasure at Emerald’s words. And Verna looked positively disgusted. The diminutive woman had been dipping into her glass long before the first toast, and now said something to her husband Thaw. When there was a sudden lull in the conversation she could very clearly be heard saying, “Bastard!” before being induced by Thaw to take a seat and slapping his hand away when he tried to relieve her of her glass of champagne.
“I have a feeling all is not well in paradise,” said Chase as they took their own seats.
“I have the same impression,” said Odelia. She knew Thaw Roman was also an actor, though not a very famous one, and he looked very unhappy to be there right now. Though maybe that was his default expression.
Emerald sat at the head of the table, Pete at her side, while Alina sat closest, with Kimberlee on her right. Verna and Abbey sat furthest away, with Odelia and Chase sitting at the other end of the long table. A man Odelia didn’t recognize sat at the other end.
“Who’s he?” asked Chase now.
“No idea. He doesn’t look familiar.”
Abbey, who was at Odelia’s elbow, and had heard the question, leaned in and said, “That’s Odo Hardy. He’s the director. He’s German and a genius.”
A blond pixyish woman in her early forties, Odelia couldn’t help but marvel at the texture of Abbey’s skin. It looked like velvet, with no visible pores whatsoever, contrary to most women her age. She made a mental note to ask her about her skincare secrets if she got the chance.
“So you’re the reporter, right?” asked Abbey cheerfully as she placed her napkin across her lap. She was wearing a strapless yellow dress revealing quite a bit of cleavage and looked like Cinderella at the ball.
“Yup. That’s me,” said Odelia. “I’m the reporter.”
“Cool,” said Abbey with a smile, and Odelia liked her already.
“Can I just say I’m a great admirer of your work, Miss Moret? I think I have seen every single one of your movies.”
“Ah, that’s so sweet of you,” Abbey said, without much conviction. She took another swig from her glass and gave the cutest little burp. “Oopsie.”
“So what did you make of Emerald’s speech?” asked Odelia.
“Mh? Oh, that.” Abbey shrugged. “Very noble of her, I thought, to appoint a successor. Of course, if I were younger she might have picked me. Not that Kimberlee doesn’t deserve the praise. She is, after all, an amazing actress. An amazing talent—simply amazing.” She darted a quick look at Kimberlee that didn’t seem overly friendly, then directed a sweet smile at Odelia. “I’m sorry, but what did you say your name was again?”
“Odelia Poole. And this is my boyfriend, Chase Kingsley.”
“Chase.” Abbey gave Chase an appraising look. “Are you an actor, Chase? You look like an actor.”
“I’m a cop, actually, Miss Moret,” said Chase.
“A cop!” Abbey’s eyes went a little dreamy. “Oh, my. Are you here to make an arrest, Officer Kingsley? Or to perform a strip search, perhaps?”
Chase laughed. “I’m simply here as Odelia’s plus-one, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, so you’re not here in an official capacity, huh? Too bad. Too bad. The evening could have used some excitement. Oh, well. I guess we’ll have to muddle through somehow.” She took another swig from her drink, until her husband took her glass away with a censorious look. “Oopsie,” Abbey repeated, but this time with a nasty scowl
directed at her hubby. She made a grab for her glass but he kept it out of reach.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night?”
“No, I don’t,” she said.
“Well, I think you have.”
Abbey leaned closer. “That’s my husband Seger. He says he’s a talent agent but his job title is actually Party Pooper. And he’s very good at what he does.” When Seger grunted something, she added, “Yep, he’s a party-pooping talent agent. Or a talented party pooper. Not sure which.” She giggled.
Her husband held out his hand. “Seger Glik. So nice to meet you.”
Odelia shook it, and so did Chase.
“Don’t mind my wife,” he said. “She’s pretty excitable. Which is what we all love about her.”
“Ooh, thank you, munchkin,” she said, and gave him an exaggerated kiss. Turning back to Odelia, she said, “One thing I’ll say for Emerald. She knows how to throw a good party. Have you been to one of these things before?”
“No, I can’t say that I have,” said Odelia.
“Oh, you’re gonna love it. She has the best chef in the world, and I mean, that man can cook!”
“I’ll vouch for that,” said Seger. “Expect to gain a couple pounds.”
Suddenly there was a commotion on the other side of the table. Verna Rectrix had risen to her feet and was loudly proclaiming, “Don’t tell me what to do, you bastard!”
Her husband, to whom these words were apparently directed, looked appropriately embarrassed. “Darling, please—you’re making a scene.”
“Of course I’m making a scene!” cried Verna. “And if you don’t like it you shouldn’t have married an actress!” At this, she threw a vicious look at Kimberlee, who was sitting next to her. “And as for you—you hussy!” she screamed, then threw the contents of her glass at Kimberlee’s chest.
Kimberlee gasped in shock, then her face flushed and her eyes shot fire. And she would have accosted Verna if not her own boyfriend and Verna’s husband had interfered, and held the two women apart.
“What’s going on there?” asked Odelia.
“Oh, that’s just Verna being Verna. I’m not sure if you can tell but she has quite the temper. She used to pull these stunts on set all the time.”
Verna stomped off, shouting something Odelia didn’t quite catch.
“Oops, looks like someone is going to miss dinner,” commented Abbey. “Well, no matter—it’s not as if she’d eat it. She’s like a stick insect as it is.”
“She is very slender,” Odelia agreed.
“Slender?” scoffed Abbey. “More like one of those models who can’t stop puking up their food.” She leaned in. “Shall I let you in on a little secret?”
Odelia nodded. “Sure.”
“The secret of staying skinny. Cocaine. Lots of cocaine. Just ask Verna.”
Odelia blinked, and wondered if Abbey would be telling her these things if she hadn’t just downed three glasses of champagne in quick succession.
“Oh, my,” she said.
“You stick with me, kid. I’ll teach you a thing or two about Hollywood’s elite.”
“Abbey!” hissed her husband.
“What?” said Abbey innocently.
“Shut up! She’s a reporter!”
Abbey fixed her unsteady gaze on Odelia. “She don’t look like a reporter to me.”
“Well, I am, actually,” said Odelia, feeling she should probably give Abbey another warning that everything she said could and would be used against her in an article of reporting.
Abbey grinned a little luridly. “I don’t care! You hear me? I don’t care! I simply don’t care!” She then clasped an arm around Odelia’s shoulders and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I like you anyway, you fair-haired little minx. Reporter or no reporter—I’m not going to hold it against you.” She slammed the table hard. “What does a person have to do to get some food around here?!”
Oh, boy, thought Odelia. This was shaping up to be a very interesting weekend indeed.
Chapter 6
Night had fallen, and the house was quiet. Pearl Harbor had finally finished, with Gran happy that Ben Affleck’s girl had found love again in the arms of Josh Hartnett, and the humans had all retired to bed. I was sitting outside on the porch swing, Dooley next to me, with Brutus and Harriet out and about somewhere, and both of us wondering what Odelia was doing right then.
“I think she’s missing us so much she’ll probably be back in the morning,” said Dooley.
“Don’t count on it,” I said. “Odelia is probably having the time of her life.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Max. She’s probably miserable is what I think.”
“Humans are different from cats, Dooley,” I told him. “They don’t miss us the way we miss them. It’s more a case of out of sight out of mind for them.”
“You really think so?” He looked both surprised and disappointed.
“Oh, sure. In fact she probably has her eye on another pet already. If what she told us was true, that Emerald Rhone person has a house full of pets, and she probably hands them out like candy to her guests. It wouldn’t surprise me if Odelia arrives home with a whole brood of new pets in tow.”
“But, Max, that’s terrible!”
“It is,” I agreed, placing my head on my paws and staring moodily into the night.
“What you need is something to distract you,” said Dooley, giving me a poke.
I merely grunted something. I was in no mood to do distracting things.
“Come on. Let’ s go and see what Brutus and Harriet are up to.”
“Hanky-panky, probably,” I said morosely.
“Or at least let’s go to cat choir. This is the one night you need to be surrounded by other cats, Max. It will keep you from thinking bad thoughts.”
“I’m not thinking bad thoughts—I’m thinking realistic thoughts—really getting down and dirty on what life as Odelia’s cat is all about.”
“Oh, Max, don’t be this way,” said Dooley. “This isn’t you. You’re usually the sane and sensible one, and I’m the one whining and complaining and getting all worked up about stuff.”
In spite of my foul mood, I had to laugh at this rare moment of self-reflection on my best friend’s part. “You’re right about that,” I said.
“See? You’re smiling already! All you need is to have your friends around, and you’ll soon forget all about Odelia and those fun and interesting pets she’s having a good time with right now.”
And there he’d spoiled the moment again, and I sunk back into my slough of despond.
For a moment, we just sat there, thinking about what could have been, and then another fun and interesting pet came slinking up to the porch, mounted it with some effort, and climbed the swing.
“Brutus,” I muttered.
“Max, Dooley,” muttered Brutus.
“Brutus,” muttered Dooley.
For a moment, no one spoke, me thinking dark thoughts about Odelia and the fickleness of human affection, Dooley thinking dark thoughts about me and the fickleness of my mood, and Brutus... Oh, who cared what Brutus was thinking about?
Then, finally, Dooley broke the silence. “So where is Harriet? I thought you were going to do some hanky-panky—what is hanky-panky, by the way, Max? You never said.”
“Hanky-panky is a, um, fun game,” I said, in spite of my foul mood still very serious at protecting Dooley’s innocence.
“What kind of game?” he said, perking up. “Can we play it?”
“Not right now,” I said after a pause. “Besides, it’s a game usually played between a tomcat and a queen.”
“So can I play it with Harriet?”
“Theoretically, you could,” I agreed, darting a glance in Brutus’s direction. Usually these were fighting words. Now he just lay there, like a sack of potatoes.
“Brutus?” I asked. “Are you all right, buddy?”
Brutus merely grunted something that gave me the impression he wa
s far from all right.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
“I said, rotten. And now will you please let me wallow in self-loathing in peace and quiet. Self-loathing requires that everyone around keeps their traps shut.”
So Dooley and I kept our traps shut for a moment. Then, because it’s hard to keep a good cat quiet, Dooley said, “So when you see Harriet could you ask her if she wants to play hanky-panky with me?”
Brutus directed a look of such hostility at Dooley that even the latter, though usually not the quickest on the uptake, got it amidships and gulped.
“Harriet is upset with me right now,” said Brutus finally. “So if you don’t mind I’m not going to ask her anything. She’d only cut me if I did.”
“Upset with you?” I asked, deciding to take the risk of digging a little deeper into this mysterious matter. “And why is that?”
“Probably because you didn’t let her win at hanky-panky,” said Dooley. “Harriet hates losing. You should know this by now, Brutus. Always let her win at everything. It’s the only way to keep the peace.”
“Oh, shut up, Dooley,” said Brutus.
Dooley shut up, and so did I. From vast experience I knew that when Brutus was brooding on something the truth would come out sooner or later. It’s not easy keeping stuff bottled up, especially when surrounded by two cats who very much like to know. And clearly I was right, for he suddenly muttered, “Just because I asked her to get in touch with her inner male she has to go and fly off the handle like that.”
“You asked Harriet to get in touch with her inner male?” I asked, stifling a sudden urge to giggle.
He stared at me for a moment, daring me to laugh, but I managed to keep up my poker face pretty well.
“Now why would you go and do a thing like that?” asked Dooley.
“Because we’re a couple, and if I’m going to get in touch with my inner female, it only makes sense that she gets in touch with her inner male! So we can.... you know... the switcheroo thing.”
We both stared at him. Now I was at a complete and utter loss. “Switcheroo thing?” I finally asked.