now, go figure!
Maybe it was all bearable.
Along with the stupid Blood-bone guy, it didn’t help that they’d happened to draw the booth next to Malcolm Dangerfield, the new superhero of cable television.
Malcolm was not dying in any way.
Malcolm was charging a hundred dollars a shot for pictures taken on a cell phone.
People were paying it.
That made Cara’s position very hard—well, in her mind. Marnie didn’t care; she was chatting with their onetime castmates: Jeremy Highsmith, Roberta Alan and Grayson Adair.
The lines to pay a hundred dollars for a selfie with Malcolm were deep. And now, on top of that, Blood-bone was right in front of them, drawing any possible customers away. Cara didn’t think that Blood-bone would be there long, though. She could see that Malcolm Dangerfield was gone, that his publicist was managing his line. He had probably gone to complain to the comic con management about the Blood-bone guy in full costume who was messing with his line.
“Oh, my God!” someone screamed. Cara waited for the screamer to call out Malcolm Dangerfield’s name. Or to go running across the floor, amazed that they’d seen the “real” Blood-bone.
But the screaming fan wasn’t coming for Malcolm or Blood-bone.
“It’s Madam Zeta!”
Cara smiled. A real smile.
She was not Madam Zeta.
Nope!
But she was with Madam Zeta.
People might not be coming for her, but at least they were coming toward her little group.
Madam Zeta had been played by Marnie Davante.
And Marnie was seated next to Cara—on her right side at the booth.
Marnie smiled, and her smiles were always real. She was ready to greet a fan. She was a good kid.
A really good kid, Cara knew. Marnie hadn’t wanted to be here; she hated doing comic cons. She didn’t say as much to Cara because she was a nice person. She had agreed to come along because she knew that signing pictures was how her old costars—Cara, Jeremy, Roberta and Grayson—survived.
None of them had gone on to find work on another series.
But Marnie had moved on. Marnie had kept acting. Cara had kept waiting for a new TV series or, at the least, a good supporting role in a movie.
Marnie had gone back to theater, which she loved. Theater didn’t always pay well in LA, but Marnie had also caught the occasional commercial or modeling gig. Like everyone else, she went to dozens of auditions for roles, but she seemed to accept that easily and kind of kept on ticking—just like the Energizer Bunny.
Marnie hadn’t cared if Hollywood was calling—or if she was cast in a road show, just as long as she was working and she fulfilled her professional obligations. She had done okay, maybe not as a multimillion-dollar-earning star, but as a working actress. She was even about to open her own theater, which would be named for her dad—The Peter Davante Theater for Young Artists.
Fancy name for a kids’ theater, but hey, to Marnie, it was living the dream. Personally, Cara thought that working with young people—children—was akin to water torture. But Marnie loved theater and she loved kids, so...go figure. For her, it worked.
But Cara felt that Marnie also thought that the conventions were where washed-up stars came to die. Metaphorically, at least. There were, of course, those few—like Malcolm Dangerfield—who were at the top of the game, making enough in a few hours to pay Cara’s rent for the next year.
And then there was Marnie.
She was here—simply smiling through the torture of waiting for fans—out of friendship.
To be fair to herself, Marnie had been young when their show had been canceled—barely twenty-four. And Cara had been...
Well, hell. Not twenty-four.
The cancellation of their show—Dark Harbor, the story of a town inhabited by vampires and other strange supernatural beings—had been a true death knell for her career.
* * *
It was playing out beautifully, as if it had all been rehearsed. Here, Actors’ Row, the lineup...a dog, an old dude from some mostly forgotten weekly flick...and then...
Yes, them. The cast from Dark Harbor.
And it was coming closer and closer...
He could feel it.
He didn’t know exactly when, and he hadn’t known that he would feel this...exhilarated!
But it was alive, kinetic...wired! With anticipation.
Yes, it was coming...
Soon. So soon. He could almost taste it on the air.
* * *
For Cara, there hadn’t been a lot of great offers to follow the lamented demise of Dark Harbor. A few little bits, guest star gigs, here and there. Her agent tried her best.
But when no decent acting offers were forthcoming, there were always conventions. And there had been talk—just a rumor so far—that there might be a Dark Harbor reunion show. A producer had apparently been a huge fan and now wanted to bring them back.
So far, though, none of the core actors had been approached. Or so they all claimed.
It was still just speculation. And she didn’t dare believe the rumor—it was too painful. But then again, she had seen a tall guy with a superhero T-shirt under his blazer walking around, watching them all. Someone had said he was Vince Carlton, a cable show producer and director.
The money from a reboot might not be huge. Still, Cara’s agent had mentioned a call that suggested such a thing might be possible—if so, was she willing?
Of course!
Anything would be better than eight-by-ten-picture money.
But it would all be too depressing to believe that it might happen—and then have their hopes dashed on the rocks of Hollywood capriciousness.
For now, fan conventions and picture sales were important.
Thankfully—for Cara and the rest of the cast—there was Marnie. She was like the best kid in the family, the one who looked after and took care of her siblings. She would always make the group complete and show up when needed, helping them all survive the torment of comic cons.
There had been five main players in the series. Cara had been the matriarch of the supernatural family, and still, she’d admit, was the least of the five characters.
