Joke and Dagger

by Christy Barritt

  His lip twitched.

  Twitched? What did that mean? That was some kind of body language, I just couldn’t remember what. Did it mean he was unhappy? Deep in thought? Constipated?

  “Okay, then, how about the middle of May?” Jackson said. “It’s still nice outside, and not too hot, not too cold.”

  “Kind of like April 25, where all you need is a light jacket.”

  Jackson gave me a look.

  “Miss Congeniality? Haven’t you seen it? The beauty pageant host asked her about the perfect date and—” I shook my head. “Never mind. Yes, I could schedule something around that time, except . . .”

  “Except what?”

  “I think I agreed to do a media blitz around that time for A Useless Ending to a Hard-Fought Life. Right now, it’s scheduled to release in June, so that’s going to be right about the time all of that happens.”

  “Okay, so looking at your calendar, what’s open for you?

  I stared at my schedule for the next . . . well, basically for the next year. Why was it that, after taking a little break from acting, I had jumped back into things with both feet?

  I’d been afraid I wouldn’t be able to get any roles after my ex-husband ran my name through the mud and started lots of vicious rumors about me. But, after a little sabbatical, not only had I gotten my role back as Raven Remington on Relentless, but the movie offers had also been pouring in.

  I’d been trying to be choosy about what I picked to do. I could finally afford that luxury in my career. But I’d been getting some really good scripts that I thought could do some really good things for my acting resumé.

  I looked up at Jackson and frowned. “My schedule is pretty booked, but we can totally schedule something in here. I don’t know why this feels entirely more difficult than it has to be.”

  Jackson’s gaze caught mine. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

  “Changing my mind?” My voice lilted with surprise. “Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. I haven’t changed my mind. I want to marry you more than millions of women want to meet Jason Momoa.”

  He chuckled. “Good to know.”

  “My schedule is going to be like the Titanic, and you’re going to be the iceberg that wrecks it.” I was on a roll with my analogies here.

  “What?” Jackson asked.

  “I just mean, let’s find the two weeks we need, and make it happen.” Maybe I was trying a little too hard and was a little overly excited about Jackson being here.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Two weeks? Our wedding is a two-week affair?”

  “Oh, no, not the wedding itself. But there’s also the rehearsal, the bridal shower, and the bachelor party. The rest of the time we’re totally going to be on our honeymoon.”

  He let out a murmur of approval. “I like that idea. Where are you thinking we should go?”

  “I don’t know. How about an island in the Caribbean?”

  “I could handle an island in the Caribbean with you.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of it. But we were still talking about something that was six months away. It seemed like forever. Not that Jackson wasn’t worth the wait.

  “All right, so let’s think about a wedding in early May. I’ll have to run these dates past my bridesmaids. And my dad—” I stopped myself as I said the words.

  My dad? More than anything I wanted him to be there for the ceremony. But after an ugly turn of events, he was in the wind again. And so was my mom. It was a long, complicated story, but Mom was mixed up in some pretty bad stuff, and, as a result, Dad had gotten mixed up in some bad stuff too.

  Here I thought she’d just run off to start a new life away from Dad and me. In truth, she’d gotten involved with an international crime ring. Somehow my dad had found out about her association and gotten pulled into it, and now he was basically in witness protection somewhere.

  I never thought I would say these things about my life. I was a simple girl from the mountains of Virginia. I hadn’t intended on pursuing acting. But acting and Hollywood seemed to find me.

  Sometimes I wondered if my life would have been better if I’d continued to work as a hair stylist and did community theater on the side. I mean, I loved what I did. Don’t get me wrong. But acting had changed me. All the things I had vowed not to do and not to be . . . I’d become those things and done those things.

  My marriage ending had been a wakeup call. Suddenly, all the mistakes I’d made became clear.

  I had fled to the Outer Banks of North Carolina in order to find my father and to make things right in my life. That’s when I had met Jackson. Though our relationship had a rocky start, once we realized we loved each other, there was no turning back. He’d become the Ricky to my Lucy.

  The one thing that was certain was that my life today looked nothing like it had only two years ago. I like to think that I had grown up, that I had matured.

  But then I looked at my calendar and saw how many things I’d said yes to, and I had to wonder if I was taking steps backward. I told myself I was stronger than Hollywood. I told myself I was stronger than the draw of fame and success.

  I thought I was. I really did. But I had to be careful because pride did come before a fall. My dad had highlighted that in his old Bible—the one I kept. I liked to look through it and see the notes he’d scribbled in the margins. It reminded me of my childhood, of my past, of the things that were important in life.

  I was about to look at my calendar again so I could reconfirm some of these dates when I heard a ding. I knew I shouldn’t do it. But like a chocoholic being offered some pie with ganache, my fingers found themselves hitting a little email icon on my phone.

  The screen changed, and I saw I had just gotten a new email. From Alistair.

  As soon as I saw it, my back muscles clinched. An email? From Alistair? At this time of night?

  With a curiosity that I couldn’t seem to stop, I clicked on it. My eyes widened when I saw that it was an updated script. I showed it to Jackson, and he let out a grunt.

  I couldn’t wait to see what these changes were.

  Chapter Six

  “A new script?” Jackson stared at me.

  I nodded and read the email aloud. “I know we had some issues with a supposed script change today, but this really is the one and only Alistair King, and this really is a script change.” I cleared my throat. “Please review these changes and be ready to go through this at filming tomorrow. I expect you to be at your best and to come prepared so we can make the most of our limited time together.”

  I halfway expected him to end the email with, “You imbeciles!”

  It was just the way Alistair liked to talk and address things sometimes. I didn’t say I liked it. But he was quite the character.

  Jackson leaned closer, staring at my phone screen. “You think Alistair actually sent that?”

  I stared at the words there and shrugged. “I have no idea. I mean the wording sounds like him—the one and only Alistair King,” I said, my voice taking on an air of snobbery. “But after everything that happened today, I can’t be so sure.”

  “Why don’t you open the document and see what it says?”

  I clicked on the link and opened the revised script. The pages were formatted and looked exactly like our normal scripts. This time, the opening scene was back to normal.

  It had my character stepping into the lighthouse to keep my eye on the area and look for any signs of trouble. It was what Drusilla did every morning, a habit borne of her many years of being a spy.

  “So far, this looks the same,” I muttered. I skipped ahead, trying to find any changes. I stopped where we were supposed to begin filming in the morning. Eva would film her part as double agent Tabitha Tyndale.

  Except, in this new script, she appeared for just a few minutes only to vanish and never to be seen again.

  I told Jackson.

  “Something really strange is going on here, Joey.” Jackson squinted as he stared at my
phone.

  “I agree. I have no idea who might be behind this or why he or she might’ve sent us a new script again. It’s one thing if someone does this once as a joke or to mess with Alistair’s head. But why do it again?”

  “That’s a great question.”

  A bad feeling remained in my stomach. I seemed to have a radar for these types of things. Trouble followed me. Was that what was happening now? Or was I reading too much into this?

  “The good news is that no actual crime was committed,” Jackson reminded me. “This appears to be harmless. Hopefully, it stays that way.”

  “Hopefully. I guess I will find out tomorrow when I go on the set.”

  I glanced at my watch and saw it was already three in the morning. Jackson and I had been talking since we got here.

  There was no getting sleep for me tonight, especially now that my mind was racing.

  Just as the thought entered my mind, my phone buzzed. I’d gotten a text message. My eyes went to the number—it was an unknown caller.

  But the words felt all too familiar and threatening.

  This film will be the death of you.

  I took that cup of coffee after all as I tried to sort through my thoughts. Jackson and I were still on the couch, but our relaxed vibe from earlier had disappeared.

  “Why in the world would someone send this to me?” I asked, staring at my phone screen.

  Jackson frowned, and I could tell he wasn’t happy with this turn of events. “Why does anyone ever send you stuff like this?”

  Point taken. “Is it a threat? Or is someone just reminding me that I could have made a very poor choice when selecting A Useless Ending to a Hard-Fought Life as my next movie choice?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  We sat there for a few minutes in silence. I sipped my coffee and let my thoughts churn between the script, this threat, and the earlier encounter with the pirate.

  Were all of those things connected?

  “Do you think this is connected to the Bucky Belching guy?”

  “Do I think it’s connected?” Jackson gave me a look that was answer enough—his lip twisted at one end, his head tilted, his eyes held a no-nonsense look. “I think he’s a quack.”

  “But he did get that note saying that somebody wants to kill him.”

  “He was also dressed in pirate costume, and he speaks with a fake accent while carrying a toy dagger. And, actually, the note said, ‘Heed my warning or you will die.’”

  “It’s kind of a weird threat.” I shook my head. “Alistair said there’s a cosplay pirate event in town.”

  “I talked to some people when I was on the ferry, and they were telling me about it. Apparently, it was a last-minute thing, but locals are getting a hoot out of seeing pirates walking around here on the island.”

  My thoughts continued to churn. “You really don’t think this guy is in imminent danger?”

  Jackson suppressed a sigh and rubbed my arms. “Honestly, I have no idea. And it’s not my job right now to have any idea. I’ll let Cassidy and the crew worry about that. The only reason I’m here is to have some time with you.”

  My heart warmed. But, as instantaneously as it happened, my thoughts turned to what he said.

  “Cassidy?” Who was Cassidy?

  “She’s the police chief here in town,” Jackson said. “I met her when I came here to help search for some fugitives.”

  That was right. I vaguely remembered that. “You mean, Chief Chambers.”

  “You met her?”

  I nodded. “Alistair thought it was a crime that his script had been revised. He called the police.”

  Jackson let out a chuckle “Shouldn’t surprise me.”

  “She seemed nice and unexpected. I love seeing women who aren’t afraid of fighting the bad guys.”

  “She seems like a stand-up gal. This island is lucky to have her.”

  I let out a long breath and straightened. This conversation was getting us nowhere. And I was losing my focus. Whether I liked it or not, I seemed to be turning into Raven Remington.

  “All right,” I finally said with a new resolve. “So we are not going to worry about this pirate and his threatening note. We are going to let the local police worry about that. In the meantime, I am going to film my movie. I’m going to spend time with you. And we are going to nail down our wedding date.”

  Jackson grinned. “That sounds like the perfect week off with you.”

  I put my questions in the back of my mind. Kind of. I mean, I was thinking about the pirate. A little. Because that’s just where my mind went.

  But I’d told Jackson I was going to let this go. So I would. I would try, at least.

  Besides, I was going to be busy filming. There wouldn’t be any time to be nosy.

  In theory, at least.

  Chapter Seven

  Jackson and I had talked almost all night. Of course, all night really wasn’t that long when considering I had to be on set by five and I didn’t get home until past midnight. But it had been nice to catch up and to relax.

  By four a.m., Jackson and I had decided to make breakfast together, and we sat outside on the deck to enjoy some omelets and fruit. It was dark outside still, but the stars shone, and we had fun trying to pick out the planets. The weather couldn’t have been nicer—a balmy sixty-two degrees.

  Right at five, I showed up with Jackson on the set. We waved at Larry—he was awake now and staring at his phone—as we pulled in. After Jackson checked everything out, he dropped me off at Mindy’s trailer so I could begin to get suited up.

  I had to get here so early because it took two hours to get me made-up and into my costume. I could see how this was going to get old quickly.

  Once Jackson felt the area was secure, he went to talk to Larry. He wanted to know if the security guard had seen anything suspicious.

  This film will be the death of you.

  Why in the world would someone send me that? It made no sense.

  But what if they were right? What if this film didn’t help my career but hurt it? What if I got a Razzie for it? Actors’ careers had been ruined because of poor movie choices. Take Hallee Berry, for example. After Catwoman, her star power was never the same.

  I cast those thoughts aside as I sat in the chair and stared at a bleary-eyed Mindy. She looked like she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night either. She was a second-generation Filipino American. She often wore her dark hair in pigtails and hardly wore any makeup herself. She didn’t need to—her skin looked perfect.

  “Morning,” she muttered.

  “Morning.” My thoughts continued to churn. What would today hold? What did that revised script mean? Should I have checked on Eva or was that totally irrational? After all, Washington’s character had died in the previously revised script yet he was just fine in real life.

  Jackson and I had tried to find the source of the email. But, with our limited skills, we were unable to trace it back to the true sender. Someone must have set up a dummy account using Alistair’s email.

  “I saw the article,” Mindy finally muttered as she blended the makeup on my face. “Sorry you have to go through that.”

  “The article?” I questioned. I had no idea what she was talking about.

  “It was in the National Instigator this morning.”

  I stared at Mindy. “I can’t say that reading the tabloids is the first thing I do every morning.”

  She frowned and put down her makeup brush. “Oh, sorry. I thought for sure you’d set up a Google alert for yourself so you’d be in the know.”

  “What article, Mindy?” My anxiety started to rise.

  She frowned again, looking almost sympathetic. “The one that called you a diva and said that while the rest of the cast and crew had to stay at a rundown bed and breakfast, you had it put in your contract to stay in a luxury home by yourself.”

  My bottom lip dropped open at her words. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded. “Yea
h, I just saw it. It’s definitely there.”

  “I didn’t insist on that house. Alistair is the one who insisted.”

  She shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I read.”

  “What else did it say?”

  “That you exhibited diva-like behavior. A closed set. An unlimited supply of IZZEs.”

  Anger grew inside me. I should be used to stuff like this, but I wasn’t. “Where in the world did this person get their information?”

  “I have no idea. But it was there. I’m sorry, Joey.”

  My jaw stiffened. I was sorry too.

  I sat silently for several minutes as Mindy continued to transform me into Drusilla Fairweather.

  My thoughts turned over and then over some more.

  Who would have leaked that false information to the press? The best false information had some grounding in the truth, which made it harder to refute. I was staying at a large house alone, and it did seem wasteful, especially on a movie with this low budget.

  The script changes still loomed over me like a threatening storm in the distance.

  Part of me had wanted to call Alistair last night when I got the email. But I feared that would cause him to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. That would make today miserable for all of us. Besides, no real crime had been committed, and I’d stick with the original script when filming began. No harm, no foul, right?

  I had decided to wait until Alistair arrived this morning, and then I would tell him about the changes. I felt confident he wasn’t the one who sent the revision, despite the compelling email accompanying it that had sounded strangely like Alistair. But what I didn’t know was why somebody was so intent on toying with him.

  I was sure this was a joke. But it was a pretty extravagant joke when you considered all the trouble someone had to go through in order to get the script in digital form and alter it, set up the dummy email account, and then to send it out to all the principal players.