1 Cupcakes, Lies, and Dead Guys

by Pamela DuMond

“No, no,” Annie said. “I have no talent when it comes to porn. I never went to school.”

  “Turn around,” Skinny instructed.

  She did. “I’m just into regular, you know, old-fashioned, basic run-of-the-mill sexual fun. The Mayberry kind of stuff. Frisk me if you want. I’m not carrying guns or whips or chocolate sauce.”

  “We love Mayberry.” Skinny dropped to his knees and snapped a pic of Annie’s butt. “Very nice. Now take your hair out of that bun and flip it over your shoulder.”

  Derrick frowned. “He’s scouting you.”

  She whispered through closed lips, “Yeah. As den mother for his local Cub Scouts troop.” She unleashed her hair from the bun and tossed it over her shoulder. “I’m boring.”

  “Take off your glasses,” he said.

  She did. “I could never be the talent. Just a girlfriend or a wife or a mother.”

  “You’d definitely be a MILF. And a GILF or a WILF. I can work with all of the above.” 'Snap, snap' went Skinny’s camera phone.

  “Wake up and smell the double caff moccachino caramel latte. He’s totally profiling you,” Derrick said.

  She turned her back to Skinny and whispered, “Derrick, this kid’s a founding member of Nerd-Watch, the reality show.” Annie shoved her hair back on top of her head and faced Skinny. “I need to get on set. Urgent business. Your name is?”

  “Paul,” he said and shoved the phone back in his pants pocket. He squinted and looked down the remainder of the names and numbers on his call-sheet list. “The only other new name on my list is a fluffer. You her?”

  Annie looked at Derrick for guidance but his eyes were round and fixed. He was completely absorbed by a beautiful princess tree with enormous purple flowers. Pretty, yes, but mesmerizing? Why had Mr. Overly Talky shut up now? Once again he was no help whatsoever.

  Annie had no idea what a fluffer was, but it sounded relatively innocuous. Probably the fluffer teased the talent’s hair, pre-shoot. Or spritzed the on-set flower arrangements with water. Maybe even plumped the pillows on the bed or the floor in front of the fireplace, the futon in the second bedroom and the chaise lounge in the main bedroom. Possibly the pillows in the RV, or the big-rig truck that she spotted down the enormously long driveway that led to the end of the palace’s property. “Yes. I’m the new fluffer. That would be me.” She nodded. “And you’re an excellent security guard.”

  Paul laughed. “Thanks,” he said, reached in his pocket and handed a business card to Annie. “I get promoted if I recruit new talent. Give me a call should you choose to move up in the ranks.”

  Whatever that meant. “Thank you!” Annie put the card in her wallet and wandered in the direction of the set. “How’d you know he was scouting me, Derrick?”

  “I’m feeling fuzzy. Can’t quite put words together. Probably an after affect of being dead.”

  “Fine,” she said and kept walking. Once a prima donna, always a prima donna.

  Official movie peeps walked past Annie. Some carried fake palm trees. A couple of guys held camera equipment. They looked like they knew where they were going. The talent: male, female and in-between trickled past. The talent were walking ads for breast implants, tummy tucks, teeth whitening, tanning booths, calf implants, liposuction, lip augmentation, nose jobs and more jobs. They had big lacquered hairdos and wore spiffy bathrobes. Any skin that showed on the talent was hair free, like a baby’s behind. They were plastification beautiful.

  Annie flipped open her notebook to a pic of Sienna Saffron/Gable in younger more innocent times. She wore a high school cheerleading outfit and held pom-poms. Next to that picture was a photo from Bellywood that showed Sienna Saffron shaking her real-life pom-poms for the entire world to appreciate.

  Annie spotted her. Sienna Saffron wasn’t in a bathrobe, but a pair of threadbare jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. She leaned against the door of the bright purple big-rig cab and argued with somebody on her cell. She looked like a cute, fresh-faced college kid who was frustrated with either an errant boyfriend or chemistry class. Sienna waved around an 8 X 10 envelope and looked furious. Huh. Annie picked up speed and strode toward her. “Sienna. Sienna Saffron?” she yelled.

  Sienna saw, but ignored her.

  “Sienna! I have to talk with you!”

  She turned and eyed Annie.

  When a white-blonde, tanned, muscular forty-something guy with ultra smooth skin the texture of margarine in a tub grabbed Annie’s shoulder and stopped her mid-stride. “Hello, hello Cherry Red. I’ve been waiting for you!”

  Annie checked out this almost-manly creature. He wore one of those robes, large dark shiny Italian sunglasses, pretty cowboy boots and a Stetson. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “You’re the new fluffer, right?”

  “Rumor has it, I am,” she said. When confused, be cagey. Cagey could buy a little time.

  “Ah, you’re cagey. Mental foreplay. I like you already. My name’s Cowboy. Come to my trailer now, my little cowgirl.” He grabbed her hand and led her away from Sienna. “My scene’s approaching and I’m so ready for you. Love new talent. Can you let down your hair? You flossed recently, right?” He pulled her to the front door of a sagging, teensy trailer.

  Something about this felt wrong. Of course she flossed. Twice a day. Suddenly her teeth felt funny. “Derrick,” she hissed. “Something’s off with Cowboy. I could use some help here. Cowboy might have a cavity. Maybe he needs a referral to a dentist.” But Derrick wasn’t anywhere in sight. Why?

  Finally she spotted him walking next to a small old horse that was being led across the yard by its handler. “Hey, Derrick!”

  “Old Yeller, I’m a fan. Keep on going, Old Yeller,” Derrick said and patted the horse’s rump. The horse’s eyes crossed and he kicked a rear leg into the air. His handler tried to soothe him with gentle strokes on his mane and carrot treats.

  “Old Yeller was a dog, Derrick. A fake dog in a movie,” Annie said. Derrick wouldn’t meet her glance. Since when did he care about animals? She hoped this old horse was in the “Cowpoke This” movie. Oops. She changed her mind and hoped it wasn’t.

  “Of course, my dear,” Cowboy said. “You are quite astute. Cowboy likes astute.”

  Something was wrong. “Why don’t I visit you after your scene?” Annie said to Cowboy. “You don’t want to be interviewed for…Porn People Monthly before your star performance. Might give you a little anxiety,” Annie punted. She paused and looked at Sienna who was striding away from the big-rig. “Sienna! Wait! It’s important.”

  Sienna kept walking, a very pissed off look on her pretty face.

  “It’s about your dad. I want to help you guys.”

  Sienna turned. “You looking for Sienna Saffron or Sienna Gable?”

  “Sienna Gable. Whose dad is Bill Gable. A good man,” Annie replied.

  Sienna stared at Annie. “Do you know?” she asked.

  “I think I know what’s in that envelope. Photos?” Annie said as Cowboy pulled her by her arm into his trailer. “Wait a minute, please. I need to spritz his flowers.”

  Annie thought the inside of Cowboy’s trailer was even more dilapidated than its exterior. A worn loveseat featured faux paint pony hide. No pillows to fluff. A small lamp with antlers rested on a coffee table shaped like a saddle. No flowers to spritz. A few crumbling movie posters of old westerns hung on the walls. A saggy mattress peeked through ancient Venetian blinds in the back of the trailer. No big hair, anywhere. Nothing to fluff. Why were her hands turning red and itchy?

  Thai Massage Spa looked like Buckingham Palace compared to this place. “I’m sorry, Cowboy, but there’s been a mistake. Good luck with your role. I’ll catch you at the Porno-Plex. You rock!” She gave him a double thumbs up and a big smile.

  He smiled back. “And hopefully, you will too!” he said and flung open his robe. “Fluff my manly-dom and become a part of Cowboy’s trail ride.”

  And there it was. Why Cowboy was famous. It was shriveled, slightly crooke
d, looked like it had seen better days, but put a quarter in the slot and it was the aging Bucking Bronco ride of its world.

  “Kneel before the Cowpoke, my pretty cowgirl, smoke the peace pipe and do your magic.” Cowboy put a hand on her head and pushed firmly toward the ground, as well as to his claim-to-fame.

  She closed her eyes tightly and grimaced. In that moment she figured out what a fluffer did. “I’m not, I don’t think... There’s been a mistake” She clamped her lips shut and breathed through her nose.

  “”There are no mistakes, only opportunities.” I read that in a book once. The author died recently. He was in the self-help business. He was a pioneer, I tell you. You know his name?”

  “Dottaw Dek Fulwwer,” she mumbled.

  “I will be as soon as you’ve fluffed me.”

  Uh-oh. She squirmed, turned her head to the side. But Cowboy had a solid grip on her head. Probably a wannabe wrestler before he became the Cowboy. “I have three cavities and need a root canal,” Annie said with one hand over her mouth, and pushed herself back to standing. “I have halitosis and gingivitis. Probably one of those superbugs. Most likely contagious or even deadly.” She coughed for effect.

  The door to the trailer flew open. Sienna Saffron/Gable stood in the doorway. “Fluff yourself, you old horn dog. This girl’s not in the biz, and I need her right now more than you do.”

  Cowboy reluctantly closed his robe. “Oh I get it. You two are like the L Word. Not impressed by the Cowboy, his saddle, his chaps, his stirrups, his lasso ability, his… ”

  “Strange ability to talk about yourself in the third person?” Annie said and followed Sienna out of the trailer. “Thank you, thank you…”

  Annie leaned back against the big rig. She spritzed her mouth with the minty fresh spray, twelve times, and then spritzed her hands as well. It was getting dark and the L.A. weather turned from warm to foggy and chilly in minutes. She was exhausted and shivered.

  “You should have told me, Derrick,” Annie said.

  He leaned on the rig next to her and shook his head. “You would have left if I told you.”

  “Could you blame me?”

  “Why? You didn’t put my dad in prison,” Sienna said and walked up from behind the cab. She wore a thick multi-colored poncho and handed Annie a steaming cup of coffee. “I knew the second I saw you that you weren’t a pro. You don’t seem like a cop. So who are you and what do you know about my dad?”

  “I’m not a cop. I think Fuller had an affair with my husband. Someone poisoned and killed that idiot with one of my cupcakes.”

  “Oh you’re the baker. I’ve been out of the country a couple of weeks and I came back to chaos. I wish I had killed the creep myself. You’re my hero.”

  “Right there with you on the wishing thing. I didn’t do it, but I need to find who murdered the spineless thong-wearing humpty dumpty so I can get on with my life.” Annie sipped the coffee. “Your dad shot Fuller. Only a flesh wound, but he’s still in jail. Why?”

  Sienna shook her head. “He’d never even gotten a speeding ticket before this. My folks are broke. Someone sent my dad…” She held up the manila envelope and tapped it.

  “Photos. 8 X 10 glossies,” Annie said.

  “How’d you know?” Sienna looked surprised.

  “I got some, too.”

  “Oh, these were awful. Dad freaked. He tried calling Fuller, then his manager and attorney. Dad sent e-mails, letters. Started following Fuller, but his lawyer, Lewis Schuchy something, sent my parents a threatening letter and filed a restraining order on him. And my dad, the world’s biggest puppy, snapped.”

  “Why no bail?”

  Sienna paced and bit her nails. “Dad wanted to wait till I was back in the country to get a lawyer. I planned to go back to Santa Monica College this summer. He was scared to say the wrong thing. He doesn’t want bad publicity, paparazzi or gossip following me around. Besides, Schuchy’s at some big mucky muck firm. They have clout and they’re throwing it around.”

  “May I?” Annie pointed to the envelope.

  Sienna handed it to her. Annie pulled the pictures out of the envelope and flipped through them. Sienna in her Bellywood outfit. Sienna flashing her tatas.

  Derrick leaned in over Annie’s shoulder to get a better look. She frowned and tossed her steaming coffee over her shoulder at him. He jumped in horror. “Stop throwing things at me!” The liquid passed through his chest, out his back and landed steaming on the ground.

  Sienna frowned. “Coffee’s bad on the set. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it was great. Too much caffeine and I won’t sleep,” Annie said.

  Derrick admired his chest, smug.

  Annie caught the look. She realized the coffee she tossed through him didn’t sting, burn, or stain.

  “Maybe I’m like a super-hero, like Spidey, Superman,” Derrick said. “I could be… The Invincible Dead Guy.”

  “Oh, give me a …,” Annie said.

  Sienna looked confused. “Give you what?”

  “More time to examine these pictures,” she said. In some, Sienna wiggled her silk sari covered booty in front of a multi-racial, but all male, audience.

  The next photos were of Sienna with—surprise, surprise—Derrick Fuller. Multiple compromising sexual positions.

  Derrick’s head was practically on Annie’s chest as he stared at those pics. “I look pretty good in those. Does any specific photo stand out for a slip to The Star or TMZ?”

  Annie sighed. “I’m not your publicist.”

  “I know,” Sienna said, confused.

  Such a bummer that Sienna had slept with Fuller. That, combined with her dad’s dilemma, probably made her a suspect. “These real?”

  “No. Those were photoshopped. I never slept with Derrick Fuller. Those pics pushed my dad completely over the edge.” Sienna blinked back tears. “I’m not thrilled about what I did. I’m getting over it. Moving on.”

  Now Derrick looked confused. “Does that mean I didn’t sleep with her? Oh God, I’m losing it. I’m going to have to do those mind games for seniors, to retard aging.”

  “Too late. Hah!” Annie said.

  Sienna looked embarrassed. “Please, no judgment about what I did to put money in my own bank account.”

  “They love you, Sienna. Your parents love you.”

  Sienna wiped away a few tears. “I don’t want my parents to struggle. My dad...”

  “Being a parent means you struggle for your kid. Being part of family isn’t perfect and it’s not pretty. It’s black eyes and snotty noses. IRS audits, long workdays, struggling for a B in school, but making a C instead. It’s germs, chicken pox, stress and ADHD. You don’t want people to judge you? Don’t judge your dad. My best friend Julia is a L.A. Deputy Public Defender. I’ve known her for twenty-five years. She’s smart, a little cocky, but I trust her. I’m happy to hook her up with your dad. She’d go to the wall for him.”

  Sienna smiled and bear hugged Annie. “That’d be awesome!”

  When an overly tanned man interrupted them. He was in his forties, handsome with coiffed George Clooney-like salt and pepper hair. He wore casual tan slacks that were perfectly creased. “Hello, ladies,” he said and flashed a police badge. “My name is Detective Kyle Pardue. Sienna Saffron, I’m a big fan. I would love an autograph and need to ask you a few questions.”

  Peanut Butter Fluffers

  Description: Hand made ice cream sandwiches with sprinkles of crunchy peanut butter and mini-marshmallows.

  Appropriate Occasions: Lying your way onto a porn set. Discovering a new profession is just not for you.

  Best Served With: Minty breath spray. Floss. Instant hand sanitizer in a handy gallon size.

  Sixteen

  Porno Pies

  Derrick appraised Detective Kyle Pardue and frowned. “Ew. He’s a cop with nothing to offer but gooey old Playboys stuck together and a stack of Kenny G CDs. We leave, now,” Derrick said to Annie.

  Annie edged away from Sienn
a. “Yo, girl. I’ll check out these documents and give you a shout.” She pointed to the manila envelope.

  Sienna waved at her and mouthed, “Yes.”

  Annie turned to bolt. Pardue stared at her, interested. “Miss? You look familiar,” he said. “Have we met?”

  “Walk. Walk. Walk,” Derrick said and slapped Annie repetitively on her butt, like she was a naughty puppy.

  She jumped. “Don’t think so, Officer,” she said, but kept on walking.

  “No. You’re the baker,” Kyle said. “The separated baker in Dr. Derrick Fuller’s homicide case. Stop right there. I’ve got a couple of questions for you, too. Did you kill Dr. Derrick Fuller?”

  She stopped. “For God’s sakes, no I didn’t kill that prick, and I’m enormously tired of being asked that question.” She turned and glared at Kyle.

  Derrick put his hands on his waist. “Now is the time for you to grow up and stop calling me a prick. I have done so much for you. I am the wind beneath your wings.”

  “So, what are you doing here?” Kyle asked.

  “Um. Field trip,” Annie said. “You never know where great recipe ideas spring from.”

  “And you’re working on?” Kyle asked and regarded her skeptically.

  “Oh. That. Top secret assignment for, you know, the big cheese. The big apple. The big kahuna. Yeah there,” she said. WTF, she had no idea how to get out of this one.

  “No, no Missy Baker. I’m Kyle Pardue and I’m an LAPD detective. You need to tell me why you’re here and conspiring with Sienna Saffron. Now.”

  “We are not conspiring,” Sienna said and pouted.

  “Porno pies,” Derrick said.

  “I’m working on porno pies,” Annie said. “Not just your average…” Where to go with this one?

  “Porno pies?” Kyle asked, beyond curious.

  “Apple pie,” Derrick prompted.

  “Not just your average apple pie,” Annie said. “Porno pies are a more exotic delicious confection, laced with creamy melted butterscotch filling that tops a sizzling brown sugar, vanilla laced apple pie filling. Obviously, Sienna Saffron’s talented body of work inspired my recipe.”