you, kid?” he says, turning to Jeremy. “You think you’re hot now, just die tragically in your youth and see how your stock soars! We’d be swimming in money!”
“Mark!” Andrea cries, her expression horrified. “You can’t mean that!”
Mark looks at the rest of us, the impact of his words apparently dawning on him as his own expression mirrors his wife’s. “Oh, now, you can’t think I’m suggesting…Oh, come on!”
I’m thinking either Mark is incredibly insensitive or he’s just established his own motive for wanting Jeremy dead. Jeremy, however, seems unaffected, as he slices into wedges.
“Mark’s only doing what I pay him to do,” he says, not looking up from the cutting board. “Make money off my dazzling good looks and ability.” He sets three shot glasses up on the bar, reaches for a bottle of tequila and pours. “Of course,” Jeremy adds, handing a shot to Mark, “I would like to benefit from the profits while I’m still alive to do so, but I see no reason why my heirs can’t enjoy a little happiness and debauchery after I’ve gone.”
Jeremy hands Sam a shot glass, distributes the limes and salt, and I watch as Sam raises his glass and offers a simple toast.
“To your health,” he says, locking eyes with Jeremy. “Your continued good health.”
“Here, here!” Mark adds, flushing as Sam turns to give him a very long and dark stare. Andrea steps closer to her husband, as if showing solidarity, and I watch the scene before me and wonder how much of it is genuine and how much is Hollywood.
It’s jet lag, I tell myself. It’s getting dark and you’re imagining things. But it doesn’t help and when Zoe walks slowly out of the main house, dressed in a long, flowing black gown, accompanied by another woman dressed identically. Both look like wraiths. Their skin is pale, their eyes dark and rimmed in black, their lips painted a vivid, deep red. Andrea gasps when she looks up and spots them silently walking toward us. Jeremy follows her gaze and I hear him swear under his breath.
“Jesus, will you give it a rest, Zoe!”
Zoe’s friend marches right past Jeremy, heading for the bar, and ignoring anything and anyone in her path. She is tiny compared to the lanky Zoe—a blonde with curves and a bad attitude if the scowl on her face is any indication. But when she reaches Sam, the frown is replaced by a wide, toothy grin.
“Hey there, Sam. They got you tending bar now?”
Sam’s expression doesn’t change. He looks at her, slides a shot glass in her direction and pours tequila into her glass.
“Lime?” he asks.
“And salt,” she says, nodding. “I bet you don’t even remember my name.” Now she’s pouting, flirting with the cowboy, and I figure she likes unavailable men, too.
“Bet I do,” Sam says, placing the lime and salt shaker in front of her, but he turns away without saying it and walks toward Andrea, who has now moved to a spot beneath a giant hibiscus tree.
I look at the blonde and smile inwardly as I note her following the cowboy with her eyes and practically salivating. Life is so predictable.
Mark edges closer to the blonde, reaches past her for the tequila and pours himself another shot.
“Zoe rope you into dinner, Diane?” he asks the blonde.
Diane gives a little start, turns her back on Sam and gives Mark a thorough appraisal.
“She says it’s important for the main characters to bond,” she says with an inviting smile.
Mark is looking over Diane’s shoulder, past her to the spot where Andrea stands, joined by Sam and a small, dark-haired woman in a white chef’s uniform. Sam is watching as Andrea appears to be giving the woman instructions, gesturing with her hands and becoming very animated as she and the chef break into laughter that carries across the lawn.
Mark can’t seem to take his eyes off Andrea. I find myself wishing that someone adored me that way and then am startled to see the cowboy studying me.
I turn and walk behind the bar, thinking surely one little drink of wine wouldn’t be too bad. The cowboy makes me nervous. I shift my attention to Jeremy and find him deep in a discussion with Zoe. It appears heated, with Zoe shaking her head vigorously and Jeremy glowering at her. I forget about the drink and sidle closer, appearing to be searching behind the bar for something as I go.
“I won’t do it!” Zoe says. “It demeans the flavor of the piece. It is antithetical to Belinda’s core motivation.”
“Bullshit, lovey,” Jeremy says, his tone both jocular and dangerous at the same time. “You’re only saying that because it’s what you want, not what the scene needs.”
“Either you believe or you don’t!” Zoe says, and this time her voice carries the length of the bar. “You live the truth or you die in darkness!”
Jeremy laughs at her and I cringe, seeing the depth of emotion Zoe so obviously feels and his callous dismissal of her feelings. I wait for her to explode and am not disappointed. A loud stinging crack suddenly echoes off the walls of the surrounding mansion as Zoe strikes Jeremy across the face, tears streaming down her face.
Jeremy slowly raises one hand to his cheek, touching the rapidly reddening imprint of her hand, his eyes glinting dangerously as he works to control himself.
“That was a mistake,” he says slowly. “One you had best never repeat.”
He is smiling now, looking around at everyone and raising a hand to ward off anyone who might protest or approach.
“The game’s afoot,” he says gaily. “Just rehearsing! Don’t let us disturb you!”
I realize that he doesn’t see me there. I am behind the bar, in near total darkness. When he continues, his voice is pitched low so as not to be overheard by the others.
“If you ever lift a hand to me again, Zoe, I will walk off your picture, contract or not. Fuck the money and fuck you. What happened between us on the last project will not be repeated here, do you understand? It’s over, Zoe—you and I are working on a movie, nothing more, nothing less.”
“But Jeremy, I…”
He lifts his hand to grasp her chin and she winces, letting me know his grip is firm to the point of being painful. He waits until her eyes meet his before he speaks again.
“No buts, Zoe. Either you play by my rules or I walk. If I walk, the picture doesn’t get made and you lose millions.”
Zoe drops her gaze and I barely hear her say, “Of course. I just wanted you to know that I…”
“Let it go. Concentrate on this project and let everything else go.”
“How can I when I know you don’t believe?” Zoe asks with one last bit of rebellion.
Jeremy’s sardonic smirk is back. “I am your leader whether I believe or not,” he says in his regal, commanding tone.
They are back in character and, as I watch, Zoe does her weird genuflection thing and murmurs,
