by Maisie Dean
“I know, I know. I’m sorry I worried you all. I’ll text our group chat the next time I get to urge to run toward gunfire,” I said. But apparently my joke didn’t land. The Booker brothers just stared at me. “Okay, then. I’ll call?” I said as a question.
Lucky cracked a smile and shook his head. Harrison and Owen followed suit.
“That’s our Kacey,” Lucky said.
Our food arrived and the four of us dug into plates of fries and gravy, and juicy burgers fitted with two pickles for me. Harrison whispered something to Doyle before he walked away again. Perhaps Harrison knew a good exterminator after all. Over dinner, we discussed how the film would play out if someone made a movie about the Booker Brothers Detective Agency. No one could agree on anything.
Midway through a fry, Lucky pointed at Owen. “Did you bring down the thing I gave you?” Lucky asked Owen.
“What thing?” I asked.
“Owen showed us those photos he did up of you. The ones where you’re old, remember?”
I covered my face and nudged Owen with my elbow. “Owennn,” I said.
Owen reached beneath the table to where he’d placed his messenger bag and pulled out something white-blonde. For a second I thought it was an animal, but then Owen unfolded it.
“It’s a wig!” Lucky said excitedly. “I found it at Sidney’s, isn’t it great? It looks exactly like Tippy’s haircut.”
Lucky was right. It was a little more white than Tippy’s professional and frequent dye jobs, but the shape was undeniably her. I pulled it on first, angling my head to the side and giving a sneaky look.
“You should definitely do disguises more often,” Lucky said. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, but I didn’t trust my head to discern any nuances at the moment.
“I look better this way? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or…” I said.
Lucky narrowed his eyes cheekily. “Let me have a go,” he said.
Each of the brothers took a turn with the wig. When it got to Owen, the three of us sat back in surprise. His blue eyes shone and the light blush that came to his cheeks was evident on his clean-shaven face
“Owen, you actually…” I began.
“Look good,” said Harrison.
“It’s true, you make a very attractive woman. There’s no denying it,” Lucky said.
Owen puffed out his chest a little and made no attempt to take the wig off. He looked proud to be a beautiful woman. I took a photo to show him his transformation and we all took turns admiring his new look.
Then suddenly the four of us heard the tell-tale sound of Tippy’s heels clip-clopping across the floor and we froze.
Dressed in an elegant tweed jacket and cream pants, Tippy in all her fashionista glory arrived at the end of the table and sat herself down in the seat Doyle had left for her.
No one dared greet her. With Owen sitting so close to Tippy, it was all we could do to hold in our laughter. The haircut of the wig was a true match, especially now that we could see it right beside Tippy’s. We all held our breath as Tippy took in the peculiar sight of her favorite grandson wearing the wig.
Tippy placed her hand on Owen’s forearm as if she was talking to a close friend. “Darling,” Tippy said. “It’s ravishing, but take my word for it, it needs to be balanced by a good lipstick.”
The whole table burst out laughing, and continued to do so as Tippy pulled a Dior tube from her purse and got down to business putting the finishing touches on Owen’s new look. Just as she was finishing, Doyle returned with a tray full of five tall glasses. Chocolate milkshakes! That must have been what Harrison was whispering to Doyle about. He set them down on the table. Each was topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry, just the way I like them. I grinned at Harrison and he lifted his glass to toast me.
“I owed you one,” Harrison said.
“You sure did,” I said. “Thank you.”
The rest of us raised our icy glasses and clinked them together quietly so as not to hurt my head.
“Welcome back, Kacey. We’re glad you’re here,” Harrison said. The others chimed in with their own words of encouragement, and we all took a sip. Even Tippy, who had been eyeing her glass with distaste.
The cold, chocolate taste was satisfying. Despite the milkshake’s frosty nature, I felt cozy and warm as I drank it, all the way down to my toes.
“I’m glad I’m here too,” I said.
* * *
Ready On Set Drama
A Booker Brothers Detective Agency Mystery
Maisie Dean
| FIRST EDITION |
CHAPTER 1
The hot morning sun drew beads of sweat across my forehead. It was Saturday, and I was enjoying a day off from the detective agency. My roommate and best friend, Rosie, and I were hiking on the paths that snaked across the dry hills of LA’s Griffith Park.
It had been our New Year’s resolution a while back that we’d hike together every single Saturday morning. So far, we had only made it to the park roughly one Saturday out of twenty, but I still considered that a win.
The white walls of the Griffith Observatory stood out prominently in the distance. The area around the observatory was the tourist-oriented region of the park. Most visitors didn’t bother to find the surrounding trails where we were. I felt some pride that I was off the beaten path, so to speak; I felt like a native Angeleno.
Rosie and I had our path largely to ourselves except for a few dog walkers and those people who were crazy enough to run in that kind of heat. Runners, with those tiny water bottles that mold around the curve of their hips, would dart by us and disappear into the hazy heat waves in the distance.
“I am so glad that we didn’t include jogging in our resolution,” Rosie huffed as we came to the top of a small hill. “This is more than enough exercise.”
“Agreed.” I was only wearing exercise shorts and a tank top, but it still felt like too much clothing. I billowed my tank a few times to get some air flow happening, but it only made me more aware of the volume of sweat I was producing.
Rosie’s platinum blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun that had become a lot messier during our hike. She wore her light pink, oversized sunglasses on top of her head. She only used the sunglasses when it got way too bright to see without them. I, on the other hand, was the sunglasses queen. Mine were a more classic Ray-Ban style and matte black. I wore them just about any time that I went outside during the day. It must have been the constant fear and worry about wrinkles that agents and other actors had drilled into me in my previous profession as an actress. A former actress, that is. I’d embraced my role as a detective and put the world of the silver screen behind me.
Rosie was a few steps ahead of me on the path. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep up to her with her much longer legs. “Wait up,” I wailed, placing my hands on my thighs and pushing them down one after the other.
Rosie paused halfway up a hill and turned back to face me. Her cheeks were rosy and glistening, but she was smiling and ready to keep going.
“Too many days sitting at your desk?” Rosie teased, “Those Bookers have made you weak, Kacey.”
I caught up to her, panting.
She walked up the hill again like it was flat.
Rosie was right about my fitness level. Since I’d started working for the Booker Brothers Detective Agency, I’d said goodbye to all of the frantic running around to auditions. I’d also cut my treadmill hours since I was no longer trying to match my body to the industry standards for an early-twenties actress. It was a positive change but working as a private investigator meant desk time and a lot of it. Getting out in the field was always the best part, but with each exciting case came a mound of paperwork.
I labored up the next hill, trailing behind Rosie. My mind wandered to thoughts of a new exercise plan. I could do squats at the office, using my stacks of files as weights. I could do hourly stretches at my desk to not get so stiff and weak.
My big
plans were interrupted when I heard Rosie say hello to someone up ahead.
I looked up to see Rosie talking to a young woman who looked an awful lot like me: brown hair, blue eyes, petite face.
I stopped in my tracks.
Looking at this other young woman was like looking in a mirror, except her shorts fit her better. Also, there was a caramel-colored Chihuahua jumping around at her feet.
The worst part was, I knew her. She was Katy Chase, my nemesis. Not only did we look alike, but our names were confusingly similar. Katy Chase was only a few letters away from Kacey Chance.
I glanced around furtively. Could I jump off the trail and hide in a bush? No. It was too late. My evil doppelganger had spotted me.
Katy exclaimed, “Kacey!” She waved happily. The Chihuahua yipped.
I dragged my feet all the way up to where Katy Chase stood talking to Rosie. Katy immediately leaned in to give me a hug. There was no time to warn her about how sweaty I was, although the frizzy hair and red face must have been a clue. Katy, however, felt completely dry and smelled like fresh-cut flowers.
“Hi, Katy,” I said. “This is Rosie, my roommate. I’m not sure if you remember, she came with me to that fundraiser that time.”
Katy beamed. “Hi again, Rosie. I knew you looked familiar. You were the one who had that reaction to the shrimp that night, right?” she asked softly.
Rosie looked mortified. Due to some bad shellfish, that evening had not been the fancy girls’ night out that we had planned. We had gotten in a cab that was kind enough to stop six times along the way for Rosie to vomit.
For my friend’s sake, I quickly steered the conversation back to Katy. “Katy, how is everything going? How’s work?” I asked her.
She smiled even wider and inhaled before she spoke. “I’m doing great! I’ve got my SAG card now. And I’m being represented by Thacker and Wills, if you can believe it!” Her Chihuahua gave another yip. She bent down to scoop up the dog. “We’re very excited,” Katy said, nuzzling her dog. “Anyway, enough about me. Kacey, it’s been ages, where have you been? There was a rumor you left the biz…?” Katy’s delicate brows pulled together.
Do it quickly, Kacey. Like ripping off a bandage. “It’s true,” I admitted. “I’ve stopped acting. I’m working at a detective agency now and I love it.”
Katy looked confused and didn’t say anything, so I continued.
“I work with some really great guys, and it fits. Who would have thought, right? But I needed the change and it came, so…” I was out of justifications, and to protect the security of my job I couldn’t go into much detail about what I did.
Unfortunately, Katy hadn’t come up with something to say to fill the increasingly awkward silence.
I looked down at the perky Chihuahua, who was awfully cute, then back to Katy’s face. To my extreme surprise, Katy’s eyes had become misty. There was even a tear in one corner.
“Kacey,” Katy said in a wavering voice. “You’re so talented. I can’t get my head around you not acting anymore. It’s been so busy these last few months. You should try to get some meetings. Nearly everyone’s working.” Her expression relaxed, and color flooded the tops of her cheeks in a flattering way. “True confession? I already showed Thacker and Wills your demo reel. They said you were great, but our names and looks were too similar, so it would be a conflict of interest for them to sign you as well. But you could change your hair color and come up with a stage name. You’d make an excellent redhead.”
“Thanks for the advice, but I’m fine,” I said. “Happy, even.”
Katy shrugged. Her mouth drooped sadly at the corners. “It’s not the same without you around,” she said.
“No. I imagine it’s better,” I said playfully. “Less competition, right?”
Katy rolled her eyes. Then she leaned in for another hug. “You know I’ve never cared about the competition aspect,” Katy said near my ear while she hugged me. “It’s always been amazing girls like you who have pushed me to be better, to try harder.”
I patted her on the back as she continued to hug me tightly. Her Chihuahua, which she was still holding with one arm, tried to wrestle its way out from between our chests.
“You’ll be fine without me around at auditions,” I told her. As I spoke, I was amazed at the turn of events. I was consoling her? She had an agent and prospects. I was the one who had given up on acting to start all over again in a new career.
Katy finally let go. When she pulled away, her face was bright again. The misty tears had gone. “It’s so good seeing you, Kacey. And you too, Rosie!”
“You too!” Rosie and I chorused. I gave Katy a wave and walked quickly away down the path. I hadn’t moved that fast all morning.
* * *
Fueled by a variety of confusing and conflicting feelings, I stayed a step ahead of Rosie all the way up the last hill. I stopped at an empty bench that was positioned to have the best view of the sprawled-out city below.
When I had caught my breath, I slid the hair tie off of my ponytail, freeing my mane of chestnut hair. The light breeze that was flowing from the other side of the hill cooled my scalp and my sweaty skin.
“Did I make the right choice quitting acting?” I asked Rosie.
Rosie was mid gulp from the water bottle we had taken turns carrying. When she finished, she wiped the excess water from her lip and widened her eyes at me.
“You’re not going to let Katy Chase of all people make you doubt yourself,” Rosie said. She said it as a statement, not a question. “Kacey, you didn’t quit acting on a whim. You’re not acting anymore because you’re working at the agency, and you love it. You’re a kick-butt detective. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re happier these days than when you were running from one audition to the next.”
Rosie’s honest and heartfelt reply made me pause. When I’d first arrived in LA, the city had looked a lot different. I planned to be one of the ones that made it. Acting had been my calling. Or it had felt like it was my calling, at least. There was a strange irony to experiencing this inner turmoil now, with the Hollywood sign, shining bright white in the hot sun, less than half a mile away.
“Hello? Earth to Kacey?” Rosie said, waving her hand in my direction.
“Sorry. You’re right, I know you’re right. There’s just this part of me that keeps thinking what if? What if I dropped out of the game right before I was about to get my big break?” I asked. My question felt more directed at the hot expanse of the city than at Rosie.
Rosie sighed and stretched her hamstring with her foot on the bench. “That’s something that I can’t answer,” Rosie said.
I followed Rosie’s lead and stretched my own before letting out a groan when my swirling thoughts refused to dissipate. “What am I supposed to do?” I asked the cloudless blue sky.
“I’m no expert,” Rosie said. “But when you’re talking to the universe, I think you should be more specific.”
I lifted my hands up in the air, one of them holding onto my phone, and squeezed my eyes shut. “Universe,” I shouted, “if you’re listening, please give me a sign.”
Suddenly the cheery little jingle I’d set as my ringtone rang out loud and clear on top of the hill. I looked at Rosie, stunned by the timing of it.
“Answer it!” she said, laughing. “The universe doesn’t do voicemail.”
The phone screen could only tell me it was an unknown caller. I slid the button to the side and put my ear to the phone. “Hello?” I answered.
A male voice on the other end of the call skipped the pleasantries and spoke clearly and evenly, “Kacey, how do you feel about reporting to a film set before the crack of dawn Monday morning?”
CHAPTER 2
The route to the studio was a familiar one. I had been through the gates several times over the years for auditions held at a casting office based inside, but I’d never arrived before six a.m. The archway over the entrance was four stories high, and I could only begin to make out the f
aded white shape in the early twilight. The booths on the ground, however, were lit up and occupied by security guards.
I rolled down my window as I approached the small hut. “Good morning!” I said cheerfully.
The slim, elderly man with a thick mustache was not moved by my enthusiasm. He reluctantly nodded back at me. His eyelids were drooping, likely due to the early hour more than his age. He gazed at me expectantly.
I mentally kicked myself for forgetting the protocol. It hadn’t been that long since I’d been acting, how had I already forgotten?
“Right, sorry. I’m Kacey Chance, Nate Pavel’s new Personal Assistant,” I said to the man. I pulled my ID from my wallet and handed it to him hurriedly.
The man flipped through a thick list on a clipboard, comparing my ID card to the text, and then fished out a label from an envelope. He handed over the rectangular decal for my dashboard along with my license. A quick glance at the image showed an eerie background with the words “Phantom Hunters” in wobbly letters.
“They’re at Studio C today,” the security guard said through his moustache. He was about to lift the barricade and let me through when he did a double take on his clipboard and peered at me more closely. “It says here they’ve assigned you parking spot twenty-four. That’s in front of C block, to the right,” he said.
I knew what he was reacting to. It was strange for a PA to get their own parking spot, let alone such a primo one.
The man, whose name was Gus according to his nametag, opened up a drawer and pulled out a second, smaller decal. “Make sure you display this one too, or you’ll be towed out of there,” Gus said.
“Thank you for your help!” I said. “Have a great day.”
Gus nodded again and pressed the button to raise the barrier gate.
I slid the two decals onto the front of my dashboard, then put the car in gear.