A Midsummer Night's Scream (11 page)

A wave of sadness rolled over me. “I’ve waited so long for this break. Years! I really hope we can keep filming.”

Shawn stepped away from the foosball game and sat down in the chair across from Annalee. He was staring at her legs. “In the hospital, did you see Lana’s arm?” he asked her.

“It’s all wrapped up. It has like a cast over it.”

“It looks like a stump?” Shawn asked.

“Don’t be gross,” I said. “What do you
think
it looks like?”

Shawn shrugged. “Just asking.”

“Let’s try to change the subject,” Annalee said. “Tell us about your birthday party, Claire. Why are you making such a big deal over seventeen?”

I really didn’t want to discuss my party with her. But maybe it would help get us out of this deep muck of sadness.

“Because I couldn’t have a Sweet Sixteen,” I said. “No one was around last year.” I shook my head. “That’s why having your birthday in the summer is the
worst
. Everyone’s always away.”

“You were away, too,” Annalee said. “Your family was in France, remember? Remember how I begged you to take me along?”

“Anyway, that’s why they promised me I could have a
huge
Sweet Seventeen,” I said. “They said I can have the whole studio … anyone I want to invite … bands … lights … food trucks…”

“Wow. I’m ready to party!” Annalee said. She flashed Jake a smile and rubbed her hand on his arm. She was definitely coming on to him—right in front of me, even though she knew how I felt about Jake.

I decided to ignore it. “They said I could have anything I could dream up,” I continued. “So I’m calling it A Midsummer Night’s Dream. We all read the play last year, right? It’s going to be like that, with fairies and lights in the trees and all kinds of magic and music all night.”

“Awesome,” Shawn said. “Did they have Coors in Shakespeare’s time?”

“For sure,” Jake said. “But no coolers. So they had to drink it warm.”

Annalee laughed as if Jake had made the funniest joke in history and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

Dad walked into the room. He had a serious look on his face. He had just come from the studio. He was still dressed in khakis, a blue dress shirt and tie, and his navy blazer.

“We got the go-ahead from the lawyers,” he announced.

“You mean … you’re going ahead with the picture?” I said.

He nodded.

I wanted to jump up and cheer. I saw Delia’s eyes flash with excitement.

“Maybe some of you would like to quit,” Dad said, his eyes stopping on each one of us. “That would be okay. You just have to tell me now. If you believe like Claire that there’s a curse on the film—”

“Wait a minute,” I cried, jumping to my feet. “
Jake
is the one who thinks there’s a curse. And now that the same thing happened to Lana that happened to that girl back in 1960—”

Dad raised a hand to cut me off. “I know. Do you think we haven’t discussed the whole thing for days? It was a terrible, terrible accident. And I know your take on it, Claire. I know you think there’s some kind of evil supernatural curse on the house and—”

I scowled at him. “You’re making fun of me. It’s like a joke to you?”

“Believe me, it’s no joke,” Dad said. He turned to Jake. “Your parents agree with me, Jake. We’re all in agreement. We have come through a terrible tragedy. But if we want our studio to survive, we need the film to go on.”

Jake shrugged in reply. “I’m just an intern,” he muttered. “I’ll stick with it if everyone else will.” Annalee squeezed his hand.

Dad turned to Delia. “We have to replace Lana,” he said, rubbing his chin. “We decided we don’t have time to go out and find another well-known actress. So we thought of you, Delia. You’re beautiful and you’ve acted in other productions. And you’ve been in rehearsals, so you’re familiar with the part. Will you step into the starring role for us?”

I don’t know about the others. But I just stared at Delia, who had her hands pressed to the sides of her face and looked totally shocked. And I thought:
Don’t do it, Delia. Please don’t do it. Something terrible could happen. Please don’t be next.

“Of course I’ll do it,” Delia said. “Thanks.”

21

PUCKERMAN REFLECTS

THE NEXT DAY, DELIA HAD a craving for cupcakes, and when Delia has a craving, there’s no talking to her until she satisfies it. I mean, if you’ve ever seen a totally insane crazed person, you know what Delia can be like. Even about cupcakes.

So I drove her to Crumbs on Little Santa Monica. She had a red velvet and I had a plain yellow with coconut icing. I don’t really understand the fuss about cupcakes. Why not go all the way and have a slice of cake?

But Delia barely spoke as she washed down big hunks of the red velvet with a cappuccino (two sugars). Then she took her finger, picked up cupcake crumbs off the tabletop with it, and ate them, too.

Finally, she smiled. “Claire, what about your Sweet Seventeen? Did your dad say it was still okay to have it at the studio?”

I nodded. “Yeah. No problem. He said he wants to show the studio off. Show everyone having a good time there. You know. Make them forget about what happened to Lana.”

Delia snickered. “It’ll be awesome. Did you catch the jealous look on Annalee’s face when you started talking about your party? She acted real gung-ho, but she was totally jealous.”

I poked at the cupcake on my plate. “Where did she have
her
party last year? At that rave club on Sunset?”

“Yeah. You missed it. You were away. Half the kids puked their guts out from some bad vodka drink her friend Angel sneaked in.”

Delia picked up my cupcake off my plate and finished it. “Annalee said she wanted to hook up with sixteen guys for her Sweet Sixteen. But I don’t think she achieved it since the guys were all puking.”

“Annalee likes to brag.”

“Annalee is a slut.”

“That’s harsh,” I laughed. “But true.”

Delia had her eyes on the front counter. “Want to split another one? German chocolate cake?”

“I don’t have your metabolism, Delia. I put on five pounds by being in the same zip code as a cupcake.”

“I always get starving when I’m stressed,” she said.

“You know me,” I said. “I’m a Häagen-Dazs freak when I’m nervous. I go right for the Caramel Cone or the Dulce de Leche.”

“I can’t believe your dad wants me to star in the film,” Delia said, playing with a thick strand of her black hair. “I mean, what is he thinking? Sure, I’ve done modeling, but I’ve never had a speaking role—”

“You’ll be awesome,” I said. “There aren’t many lines to learn. You just have to scream a lot and look fabulous.”

She stared hard at me. I knew what she was thinking. Sometimes best friends can read each other’s thoughts. She was thinking about Lana. Thinking about the sword dropping so fast and that sick
slicing
sound as it cut off Lana’s hand.

“The curse thing. It’s over,” I said. “The worst possible thing has already happened. So, no more bad things to come. You’ll see. It’ll be totally smooth from now on.”

“Jeremy Dane wants to meet with me,” she said.

I blinked. “Really?”

“He says we should get to know each other before we start filming.”

“That’s awesome. When?” I asked.

She glanced at her watch. “Uh … now. I guess I’m late.”

My mouth dropped open. “Jeremy Dane is a total star. And you stood him up?”

“I didn’t stand him up, Claire. I’m just late. I … didn’t want him to think I’m too eager.”

I groaned. “Maybe he didn’t want to jump you. Maybe he just wanted to make you feel more comfortable working with him.”

She shrugged. “Whatever. You know his reputation. You read the magazines, too. He—”

“Those magazines all lie, Delia. They trash everybody.” I climbed out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s go to Burbank. Maybe you can still catch him.”

I had to pull her out of the booth. She studied her reflection in the window glass. “My hair…”

“Looks great,” I said. “Let’s go.” I led the way to my mom’s white Volvo, parked at the end of the block. We climbed in and I started it up.

Delia turned the mirror toward her and studied herself. She pulled lip gloss from her bag and smoothed it carefully over her lips. “Claire, do me a favor?”

“What favor?”

“Come with me. You come meet Jeremy Dane, too.”

“But he doesn’t want—”

“Please?”

I’d always thought Delia had a lot more self-confidence than me. I thought it came with being a total knockout. But, you learn things about people when they’re stressed.

“Sure. Okay,” I said. “Where are you meeting him?”

“At the commissary.”

We made pretty good time to Burbank. Traffic was backed up on Cahuenga, but once I turned off, we bombed along. I waved to Ernesto, the guy at the studio gate, and we pulled into the exec parking lot.

Delia stretched her arms over her head as we climbed out of the car. It was a warm, clear day. The air was cool and fresh. A day to be happy to live in L.A. And the magic of being in a movie studio always swept over me as soon as I walked onto the lot.

The streets were quiet. We passed Soundstage A, where they were filming the comedy
Please Don’t.
Empty and silent. They were probably away on location. And the
Mayhem Manor
cast wasn’t due till this afternoon.

I heard a few voices from the open commissary window. “Maybe Jeremy is still there,” I said. I rolled my eyes. “You’re only an hour late.”

Delia bit her bottom lip. “I know. I had to choose between Jeremy and a cupcake and…” Her voice trailed off.

I pulled open the front door, held it for Delia, and we stepped into the front hall. The aroma of eggs, bacon, toast, and grilled ham washed over us. They were still serving breakfast. From down the hall, I heard the clatter of silverware and someone laughing loudly.

The hall leading to the dining room was mirrored on both sides. Delia stopped to check herself out. She brushed her hair down with both hands. She tugged the short pleated skirt down over her tights.

I walked a few steps in front of her. My chest felt kind of fluttery. I guess I was nervous, too. I glimpsed myself in the mirror. Then I stopped suddenly—and gasped.

That dark, bearded face. Grinning at me from the mirror.

I recognized him at once. Benny Puckerman.

His eyes, his nasty grin, reflected clearly in the mirror.

I spun around to face him. “Huh?”

He wasn’t there.

I turned back to the mirror. I gazed from wall to wall.

The little hair ball grinned at me from mirrors on both sides of the hall. He raised two hairy fingers to his forehead and gave me a salute.

I stopped breathing. My mouth dropped open. I felt a wave of cold run down my body.

I turned again. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the hall. So how could he be reflected in the mirrors?

“Delia,” I gasped. “Delia—look.”

But the mirror reflected only my frightened face. Puckerman was gone.

22

JEREMY IS NEXT

MY HEART WAS POUNDING A MILE A MINUTE. I still felt cold all over. I kept my eyes on the mirrors as I followed Delia into the dining room.

I kept expecting Puckerman to pop back into view with that ugly grin. But he didn’t reappear. My head was spinning. How did he do that? Was it some kind of trick? Was he deliberately trying to scare me?

Delia was chattering about how she couldn’t believe she was actually going to be talking with Jeremy Dane and how stupid she was to keep him waiting. She always chatters away when she’s nervous.

I wasn’t listening. My brain was fried. I was trying to make sense of what I’d just seen and, of course, I couldn’t.

Sunlight poured down from a big skylight in the ceiling. Three or four tables were filled with studio people, mostly crew members. A waitress was collecting plates, stacking them on one arm in an incredible balancing act. I saw Ace, the black-and-white dog from the comedy picture, sitting at a table like a human. He had a bowl of raw hamburger in front of him. Two women and a white-haired man in a dark suit shared his table.

Delia grabbed my shoulder and pointed. “There he is. He’s still here.”

Jeremy Dane sat in the back corner, reading his phone. A fruit plate sat uneaten in front of him. He held a white coffee mug in his free hand.

“Oh, wow,” Delia murmured. She squeezed my shoulder.

“Relax,” I said. Then I said, “Don’t you hate it when people tell you to relax?”

That made her laugh.

We made our way through the room to Jeremy’s table. He didn’t look up as we approached. He was concentrating hard on his phone. His straight blond hair fell over his forehead. He wore a black t-shirt and black jeans. A tiny diamond stud flashed in one ear.

“Hi,” Delia said, stepping up to the table. I hung a few feet back. “Sorry I’m late.”

Jeremy raised his eyes from his phone and brushed the hair off his forehead. He had big brown cow eyes that made him look very serious. “Are you late? I was concentrating.” He raised his phone.

“You were texting?” Delia said.

He shook his head. “No. Look.” He turned the screen around. “It’s the script of another project I might do.”

“Cool,” Delia said.

We were both standing awkwardly in front of the table. “I’m Claire,” I said. “I’m Delia’s friend. I’m in the film, too.”

“I saw you on the set,” he said. His smile was kind of lopsided—but sexy.

He motioned for us to sit down. Delia pulled out the chair across from him. But before she could sit down, I saw Ace leap off his chair and come running over to us. The dog’s tail was whipping back and forth excitedly, and he jumped up on Delia.

Delia let out a startled cry. She tried to brush the dog away with both hands. Ace hopped on his back legs, still jumping on Delia. “They know when you don’t like dogs,” Delia said, struggling with Ace. “Dogs always come to me because they know I don’t like them.”

I dove for the dog, wrapped my hands around his middle, and hoisted him off the floor. He was startled at first, but then he turned his head and licked my cheek.