Fade To Black

by Nolon King

  With clenched fists, she said, “His name is Liam Wentz.”

  “Oh,” Jolie replied with zero inflection.

  The monster’s name meant nothing to her, and that was Sloan’s fault. “He’s not a nice man.”

  She insulted her mother with a laugh. “That’s not true, Mommy. He’s really nice. See.”

  Jolie presented Sloane with something that made her want to break down and cry. She was wearing a piece of costume jewelry — on her ring finger. Such a small and simple thing, but in the moment, Sloane couldn’t have imagined anything that would have made her want to retch more.

  “Give that to me right now.” Sloane held out her hand.

  Jolie surprised her with a severe shake of her head. “It’s mine!”

  “I understand that, but he is a terrible person, and you shouldn’t be—”

  “He’s lucky, and now I have a ring that makes me lucky, too!” Jolie seemed so suddenly upset. “You can’t—”

  “I’m not arguing with you about this.” Sloane presented her open palm again, now more insistent.

  Jolie glared, then surprised her mother again. “He said you would try and take the ring away from me.”

  “I bet he did.” She was furious, still waiting for Jolie to fill her hand with the ring. “You’re never to speak with that man again. If he comes anywhere near you, I want you to run away and find me or the first adult you trust.” She shook her head again, cycling through a list of people to yell at.

  Jolie finally handed her mother the ring, but not without an ample amount of pouting.

  She took her daughter’s hand and led her out of the trailer.

  Jolie could be pissed at her all she wanted. Sloane was doing her job as a mother.

  But still, she had to do better.

  Because right now, Jolie was in danger.

  The monster had somehow orchestrated his access to the set. He could have done anything to her. The ring was proof of concept, a warning, irrefutable evidence that even after all these years, there weren’t any doors to her life that the monster wouldn’t know how to open.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be making this movie. Sloane would never forgive herself if Jolie got hurt because of her mother’s need for vindication. Maybe she should have stayed in London and left her past alone. Maybe life would be better if she could just learn to forget.

  She needed some fresh perspective, outside from what the Shellys, or even Orson, might say to her.

  “Where are we going now?” Jolie asked, still sounding mad at her mother.

  “To see your father.”

  Jolie didn’t cheer, nor did she complain. But Sloane didn’t care what she thought either way. Miles might help her see things more clearly, and hopefully feel better about all of this.

  Miles would know exactly what to do.

  Sloane

  Miles had no idea what to do.

  Even after loading up on sandwiches from crafts services and taking Jolie to the Liberty Park for a picnic and some playtime, then talking for the last twenty minutes with Miles, Sloane didn’t see things any more clearly and felt better about nothing.

  But she was trying, and so was he.

  At first, she was furious with him for leaving Jolie alone. He was supposed to be there with her, but apparently Christian had a slew of questions and was sticking around the set hoping that Miles might be able to answer at least some of them. He was sorry all over the place after hearing what happened, and Sloane venting her frustrated anger wasn’t fair to him.

  Miles wasn’t any more negligent by leaving his daughter with Tiffany than she had been. They were both doing their jobs, and working under the more than reasonable assumption — especially given the amount of money being spent on security — that the set was safe, and that the staff would remain aware and exercise sound judgment.

  Most of Sloane’s rage was reserved for Tiffany. And while Miles understood her ire, he’d still spent at least two-thirds of their twenty minutes so far trying to talk her off the ledge.

  “I’m not defending her or making excuses for her. I’m trying to offer an alternative opinion, which is what I thought I was supposed to be doing here.”

  “Maybe later.” She glanced at Jolie over by the swings to make sure their daughter was still safe. “Right now, I need you to hate her with me.”

  “Fine. Tiffany is a terrible human who deserves to be fired immediately.”

  “The second part of that sentence is enough, Miles. I’m not suggesting she’s a terrible human, but she’s clearly an idiot. Of all the people in the world — why would she leave our daughter alone with him? Does she not know what this movie is about?”

  “Maybe not.” Miles shrugged.

  She looked at him, surprised by the answer. “How could she not know what it’s about?”

  “Has she seen a script?”

  “Of course not. You know—”

  “The Shellys had everyone sign non-disclosure agreements, and there’s been an NSA-level of secrecy around the film. Tiffany isn’t even part of the production, she’s a glorified nanny. She thinks she’s working on a movie called Flamingo Summer.”

  “So, she’s never read the news? She has no idea about my history with that man?”

  Miles sighed, obviously not wanting to argue the point and hoping to drop it just to let his baby mama have her way — exactly the sort of thing that made him maddening and wonderful in relatively equal measure. “She was what, four or five years old when all of that happened?”

  “It’s legendary Hollywood gossip, Miles.”

  “You’re not the center of the universe, chérie.” Then he finished his thought and redirected the conversation. “You’re right. Elle a merdé, she should be fired. But … can we agree that Tiffany isn’t really what’s upsetting you?”

  “I’m glad you know me so well.” Sloane’s tone suggested sarcasm, but she meant every word. “What’s really upsetting me? Is it that he’s still alive?”

  “That’s obviously part of it.” Miles nodded. “Yet I maintain your own self-doubt is upsetting you more than anything else.”

  “And what am I doubting?” Of course, she knew without him answering.

  “Whether you should even be making this movie.” He looked at her. “Does that sound about right?”

  “Do you think I should be doing it?”

  Miles shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think.” He waited a beat. “Of course I believe in you making this movie. I wouldn’t be involved if I didn’t.”

  “You might. For me.”

  “You know I’d do just about anything to help you … so long as it doesn’t come at the expense of my art. I’m shooting this film because I believe in the picture, and because I believe in you. Am I happy with this turn of events? Absolutely not.” Miles shook his head again. “But walking away from this film will be one of the biggest mistakes of your life, and you don’t need me to tell you that.”

  “I feel guilty,” she admitted.

  “That’s a natural response. Let’s talk about how to deal with the guilt instead of running away, which only makes it feel like the emotion is chasing you instead.”

  “It’s not the movie I’m questioning, so much as what to do with Jolie. I feel like she’s vulnerable, no matter what I do. It was too easy for him to get on-set today, so he obviously has people inside. But isn’t Jolie in even more danger somewhere else, where neither of us can keep an eye on her?”

  “What’s your biggest fear?” Miles asked. “Specifically, with regard to our daughter’s safety. What is the worst thing that can possibly happen?”

  Sloane had thought about the answer to that question plenty, but if felt dangerous to vent such worries aloud.

  “Voicing your fears dilutes their power,” Miles reminded her.

  She knew it was true, but his honest nudge in the moment was still hard to accept. “I’m afraid of him inviting her into his trailer.”

  Miles shook his head. “Liam Went
z doesn’t have a trailer on your set.”

  “Trailer is just a word. It could be any private space where he …”

  “Where he what, chérie?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to say it.

  “You wanted to talk about this, so let’s—”

  “Where he can do what he did to Nicole,” she finished her thought, then rushed on with another. “Or hurt her in a different way, to get back at me.”

  “We’ve already warned her about him—”

  “We should have done that before starting the movie.”

  “Agreed. We made a mistake that we won’t make again. I’d argue that he’ll never get her alone again, no matter how many baubles he might try and buy or bribe her with. But even if he somehow does, Jolie is a lot more like her mom than Nicole. She’ll scream, then we’ll bring the guy down that way.”

  “ARE YOU SUGGESTING WE USE OUR DAUGTHER AS BAIT?”

  “Keep your voice down!” Miles whisper yelled — Jolie was kicking sand on the swings, not too far away. “Of course not. I’m just saying that I don’t believe our worst-case-scenarios are nearly as bad as what you’re imagining.”

  That was fair, but it didn’t make things easier. “So, what do you think I should do?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have anything better for you than the obvious answer.”

  “You think I should call the Shellys.”

  “I don’t understand why you haven’t already,” Miles said.

  She didn’t either. Not exactly. Sloane was avoiding the discussion in part because she didn’t want to be told that everything would be okay, which Melinda and Dominic were both black belts at doing. But Sloane suspected that the real reason she didn’t want to call the Shellys was that doing so would force her to live the experience over again, aloud and in front of others.

  Discussing the issue with Miles was one thing, but a conversation with the Shellys felt like talking to her parents. Or it would, if she had any.

  Sloane still hadn’t responded.

  Miles said, “Melinda always makes you feel better.”

  “Will you stay with me while I call?”

  He looked at Jolie, then all around the park with a smile. “Where do you think I’m going to go?”

  Sloane was already dialing.

  “We shut down early again,” Melinda answered.

  “You already know?”

  “Did you really think there was any chance that I wouldn’t? Are you calling to explain or apologize?”

  “You sound upset,” Sloane said.

  “I’m not upset, but production shut down one hour and eighteen minutes ago, yet we’re only talking now.”

  “An hour and eighteen minutes ago?” And they pretended not to micromanage her. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Lila called the time of death at 1:46 p.m.”

  “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?” Sloane said.

  Miles was looking at her with wondering eyes. She turned away from him to focus on the call and saw that Jolie had been waiting for Mommy to notice her. She gave Sloane a giant wave as she swung.

  “It’s not dramatic,” Melinda replied. “It’s precise. Losing another day is something that must be accounted for.”

  “So, you are mad?”

  “You’re better than this, Sloane. No, I’m not mad. But I would like to know what happened today, and I shouldn’t have to call you or wait for more than an hour to find out.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry … he showed up today.”

  “He meaning Wentz?” Melinda sounded genuinely surprised, though that made sense since Sloane didn’t give anyone a reason for their abbreviated day.

  “Yes. He waltzed right onto set during a break.”

  “What did he say?”

  “‘What did he say?’ How about, ‘How the hell did he get on set?’”

  “One question doesn’t exclude the other. So, Sloane, what did he say?”

  “That I’m a fraud who doesn’t belong on a movie set. But that’s not even the upsetting part, Melinda — he was alone with Jolie.”

  “WHAT?”

  “He sent Tiffany home. Gave Jolie a toy wedding ring. He—” She stopped.

  Melinda picked it up immediately. “I’m so sorry, Sloane. None of that should have ever happened. And you have my word that it won’t happen again. This is all on us. Tiffany was my hire. She’s obviously an imbecile, and security is clearly much weaker than either Dominic or I believed it to be. Wentz is ahead of us in ways we didn’t anticipate, despite effectively forecasting for years. He probably has an insider, and that person will need to be rooted out. I’m not saying any of this to scare you, but the truth is you’re already frightened and both of us know it. Hopefully, this is soothing. Yes?”

  “Yes,” Sloane agreed.

  “This is our top priority. Expect to start shooting tomorrow with a new and improved Tiffany, much tighter security, and clear communication from us about what we know, along with a plan for our next best moves. If anything unusual happens, call one or both of us immediately.”

  “Thank you,” Sloane said.

  “I promise, we won’t let him silence you again.”

  And then Melinda was gone.

  “Are you okay?” Miles asked as she pocketed her phone then swiped at a tear.

  “Much better.” She tried on a smile and found that the fit wasn’t too awkward.

  Miles opened his mouth, but Jolie came running over before he could get anything out.

  “You said twenty minutes, or ‘no more than a half hour.’ It’s been a longer time than that. Now you have to push me or play hide and go seek.” Jolie crossed her arms and awaited their reply.

  Miles looked at his watch. “It’s been eighteen minutes.”

  “And Germans are never wrong about the time,” Sloane added.

  “Your mom and I just need a few more minutes.” Then to Sloane, he said, “Are you ever going to stop calling me German?”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Jolie gave them a loud sigh to make it clear she was granting them a big favor, then she scurried over to the slide.

  Miles turned to her. “So?”

  “We’re getting a new Tiffany and tighter security. But more than that, the Shellys are on it.”

  “They’ve always been on it. What’s different now?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” She shrugged. “But there was definitely something in Melinda’s voice.”

  “And what do you think that something is?”

  Sloane had a theory. “He’s obviously caught them off guard, and I can’t think of many times when I’ve seen the Shellys surprised. Especially something they’ve plotted out so far ahead. Everything that’s hit the production so far has to have come from somewhere inside. The accident on our first day, the strike, the contract problems, and him walking on the set.”

  “The Shellys are smart enough to expect sabotage from within. You told me they were anticipating that months ago.”

  “Sure. Eventually. The registered name for this project is Flamingo Summer. There is no public information whatsoever. And still he struck on day one.”

  “Exactly. Sabotage from within. Liam Wentz is one of the most powerful men in Hollywood, and Hollywood is an industry that’s all about influence and power. Of course he has people.”

  “But it’s more than that, Miles. Consider the number of hits. Don’t you think there’s more than one insider? How could the Shellys not take that personally, considering how diligently they’ve vetted everyone.”

  “How careful were they, though?” Miles looked unsure. “I mean … Tiffany?”

  “Maybe Tiffany was great, and he just pays really well.”

  “Scheisse.”

  “Exactly,” she agreed. Then, responding to his sudden change in expression. “What are you thinking? You’re worried, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. But I think maybe I’m worried about a few different things than you are.”

  “Tell me.
I think we still have like four minutes.” She smiled.

  He smiled back. “I just want to make sure Jolie comes first, before anything else.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Before our reputations. Before our professional goals. Before this film.” Miles seemed to consider this next one, then went ahead and said it. “Before our romantic lives. Before anything. Nothing is more important than Jolie.”

  “Of course. To all of that.”

  She leaned against him, marveling at what the two of them had accomplished together. Sloane had managed to date this man, have a remarkable child with him, and continue to nurture a constantly maturing friendship, while also being able to work alongside him as both collaborator and boss. Most people lived their entire lives with so much less than Sloane already had. She knew that and didn’t want to take any of the good things in her life for granted. Especially Jolie.

  But there was a boiling rage eating at the edges of her very self, burning blacker than she wanted to admit to anyone, including Miles. Or Dominic and Melinda.

  Sloane had supposedly dealt with the trauma and left it all behind her. But the sequel was apparently here, leaving reminders like poison inside her. She had been too trusting, too naive, too willing to accept what was in front of her.

  That particular sequence of thoughts once started always led to the most terrible one.

  That maybe her life would have been better if he had actually raped her. Though most of Little Sloane couldn’t really remember what was happening at the time, her screaming instincts staved off disaster.

  But had they, really?

  Because most times Sloane felt like she would have much of the same trauma she did now, but with proof of his monstrosity. Maybe then everyone wouldn’t have called her a liar, a needy little attention whore, or everything wrong with California — as if an entire state’s problems could be distilled to one little girl.

  Maybe then she wouldn’t have wanted to spend the next several years sleeping, or hoping for a coma or amnesia — anything to eliminate the whispering screams that relentlessly plagued her.

  Even if he never penetrated her, the monster had still raped the innocence right out of her life.

  And taught Sloane a hard lesson that she was forced to learn far too early. That women, or in her case, children, who accused powerful men of something dark were then shown their insignificance as a group.