A Midsummer Night's Scream (12 page)

The white-haired man in the dark suit came over to take the dog from me. “Sorry about that,” he said to Delia.

“I’m fine. Really,” she replied. “I’m so embarrassed. I just have a thing about dogs. A phobia, I guess.”

She turned to Jeremy. “A huge dog knocked me down and bit me when I was two. I’ve been afraid of dogs ever since. I just can’t help it.”

Jeremy snickered. He was watching the man across the room. The man scolded Ace, then set him back down in his chair. “Whoa. That dog is a cute dude. You should deal with your phobia, you know?”

Delia blushed. “I’ve tried,” she said softly.

I expected Jeremy to say something nice. You know. Something to make Delia feel better. But he didn’t.

“You like horror films?” he asked, gazing from her to me.

Before we could answer, the waitress interrupted. “Get you ladies anything?”

Delia and I ordered coffees. “And how about a plate of biscotti?” Jeremy said. The waitress nodded. “And you can refresh my coffee.” He waved his mug in her face.

She grabbed the mug and walked away. Jeremy studied his phone for a moment. Then he turned back to us. “This film is weird, huh? I’m just doing it to fill in. I’ve got a Tim Burton thing working, and my agent is talking to Wes Anderson. You know who they are, right?”

Does he think we’re from Mars? Does he think he has to impress us?

He was doing a pretty bad job.

“I think everyone is going to be a little shaky getting back to the set,” I said. “I mean … after the accident.”

His big eyes flashed. “They called me this morning from
Entertainment Weekly
. They wanted to ask me about the sword thing. They asked me what happened to Lana’s hand. They asked if anyone kept it.”

“Ohh, sick,” Delia said.

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“What did you tell them?” I asked.

“I said I keep it in my back pocket to remind me of her.” He burst out laughing. Delia and I didn’t join in.

What a sensitive guy.

“I know I’m going to be kind of stressed going back in the mansion,” Delia said. “How about you?”

“I’ll definitely keep my hand off the dining-room table,” Jeremy said. He laughed again.

The waitress brought our coffee and set down a plate of biscotti. Jeremy grabbed two off the plate before anyone else had a chance.

“We watched the original film,” I told him. “You know. From 1960.”

That caught his attention. His smile faded. He squinted at me, stirring his coffee. “Really? You did? You saw it? Is it any good?”

“It’s hard to say,” Delia answered. “You know it never got finished.”

He crunched a chocolate biscotti in his teeth. “I know.”

“The girl who played Cindy in the film sat at the dining-room table, and a sword dropped down and cut off her hand,” I said. “For real. It killed her. She bled to death. And the camera kept rolling. Delia and I watched her die. It was
horrible
.”

Jeremy stopped chewing. “So the same thing happened
twice
?”

I nodded.

“Sweet!” Jeremy exclaimed, pounding the table. “Can you imagine the media blast we’re going to get from that?”

A burst of anger swept over me. My hand trembled, and I spilled some coffee onto the table. “You know, Lana is a person,” I snapped. “Her career was
ruined
by that sword. Her
life
is ruined.”

Jeremy brushed back his hair. “I didn’t really know her,” he said. He took another bite of biscotti. Then he said something very strange. “You know, you can only die once.”

Delia and I exchanged glances. I knew we were both thinking the same thing:
Is he the coldest, most insensitive jerk we’ve ever met?

“Think about it,” he said.

What is he talking about?

He checked his phone and tapped a reply to someone. Then I could see a thought strike him. “Hey, my scene is next. You watched the old movie. What happens to
me
?”

“You get pushed through a garbage disposal,” I said. Oops. A little hostile maybe. But this dude was making me angry.

He swallowed. “Really?”

“Joke,” I said.

“You get electrocuted by a toaster,” Delia told him. “You want to make a sandwich. But you get zapped by the toaster.”

Jeremy let out a breath. “Guess I should read the script. Wow.” He rubbed his perfect nose. “I usually just wing it, you know. I get the flavor of the script. Then I do my own thing with it. It’s a lot more natural that way.” He turned to Delia. “You take classes with Klausen?”

“Who?”

He snickered. “Guess you don’t. Klausen taught me a lot about going with my own thing. You know. Follow my gut feelings. Use the script as a jumping-off point. Then
become
the character in my own words.”

He patted Delia’s hand. He was staring at her boobs. “You should study with him. He likes brunettes.”

What does
that
mean, exactly?

He kept his hand over Delia’s. His dark eyes flashed. He brought his face close to hers. “Maybe you and I could work together on it later. I could show you Klausen’s technique. I think it would help you.”

Was he coming on to her? Or insulting her? Hard to tell.

I glanced at the time on my phone. “We should get to the set.” I scooted my chair back.

Jeremy fumbled in his back pocket. “Guess I left my wallet in the dressing room,” he said. “Can one of you take care of the check?”

*   *   *

Jeremy said he had some things to take care of, so Delia and I walked to Mayhem Manor. It gave us a chance to dish. Mainly to agree on how much we disliked Jeremy Dane.

“It’s good that he likes
himself
so much,” Delia said, “because no one else could.”

“Maybe his mom likes him,” I said.

“Why would she?” Delia replied.

I searched my bag for those Ray-Bans Dad had given me. Then I remembered I’d left them in the wardrobe building and never went back to get them. The sun was killer today. Heat floated up from the pavement as we walked to the back of the lot.

I was happy to step into the shade of Mayhem Manor. The air instantly grew cooler. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as we stepped inside.

“Where is everyone?” Delia’s voice sounded hollow in the empty front room.

I heard voices somewhere in the back. And then a crash. Someone laughed. Not serious.

Delia and I followed the voices past the dining room, now dark and deserted. I glanced at the tabletop. The blood stains had all been removed.

We stepped into the kitchen. Crew members struggled to prop up a light pole that had fallen. Other workers dusted and fussed and moved items around on the stove and counter.

When he saw us enter, Les Bachman turned away from Lazslo, the cinematographer, closed his notebook, and came hurrying over. “Good morning, ladies. Are you ready to rock and roll?”

Delia and I nodded. “We weren’t sure if you were filming today or just rehearsing,” I said.

“Full speed ahead,” Les said, with unusual enthusiasm. What happened to his grouchy personality? Was he pretending to be energetic and up to get us back in the mood to work?

Annalee came walking over from behind the kitchen counter. She was already in costume. A silky fuchsia midriff-baring top with fringe and tight jeans. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Delia and I answered in unison.

“Have you seen the gorgeous Jeremy?” Les asked.

“We just saw him,” I said. “He’s on his way. Should Delia and I get into costume?”

“Wait a sec,” Les said, motioning with both hands. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs: “Hey, everybody! People! People!”

The set grew silent.

“Before we start this rehearsal,” he began, his voice booming through the old house, “I just want to say a few words. Fresh start, everyone. That’s what we are doing. Those are my words for today. Fresh start. Let’s all put what happened here in the past. Okay? A fresh start. Good. That’s all. Energy
up,
everyone! Let’s go to work. The bad stuff is behind us.”

23

CLAIRE RUINS A SCENE

IT WAS PRETTY OBVIOUS THAT Les planned to shoot the kitchen scene. This wasn’t just a rehearsal. Why else would Lazslo be there, and why would the lighting crew have everything in place and the sound guys be scrambling around the kitchen?

I think Les wanted to take it one step at a time. Make everyone feel comfortable. Then keep to his shooting schedule.

I didn’t think I could feel comfortable ever again inside the old house.

When you’re like me and you believe that supernatural and paranormal things can happen, it makes the world a scarier place. Standing in that brightly lit kitchen, I felt super-alert, like every molecule in my body was tensed and ready for something weird to happen. Maybe something horrible.

And I couldn’t keep Puckerman out of my mind, that furry little man who kept appearing and reappearing where he shouldn’t be.

Pulling on my ’60s pleated skirt and lacy-collared top beside Delia in the dressing room, I shuddered. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe there
was
a curse on the old house. Maybe …

“What’s your problem?” Delia’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You suddenly turned pale.”

“Oh … uh…” I realized I hadn’t told her about seeing Puckerman in the mirrors. But I didn’t want her to roll her eyes at me and tell me what a flake I am for seeing strangeness wherever I go.

Also, Delia had a lot on her mind. She was the star of the film now. She had lines to learn and scenes to memorize. She had to be thinking about Lana. She didn’t need me freaking her out even more.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Just thinking. You know.”

*   *   *

When Delia and I returned to the set, we saw Annalee standing with Jeremy behind the kitchen counter. She was snuggling against him, and the two of them were beaming at each other like they were on a Valentine card.

Annalee took a step back as soon as Delia strode into the kitchen. “I was just holding your place,” she told Delia. “Till you got back. You know. Like a stand-in.”

Delia put on a fake smile. “No problem at all,” she said sweetly.

Annalee wants to be the star,
I told myself.
Watch out for her.

Jeremy gazed from Annalee to Delia to me. “Are you three friends?” His dark eyes flashed. A devilish grin spread over his handsome face. “Maybe all three of you would like to come to my place in the Valley, and we could … uh … do something.”

Annalee giggled.

Before anyone could answer, Les called Jeremy over. A few seconds later, the two of them were screaming at each other.

“You’re joking, right?” Les bellowed, gesturing with his clipboard. “You really don’t know if you’re Randy or Tony?”

Jeremy shrugged. I couldn’t hear his answer, but I saw him back away.

“You’re standing here and you don’t know which part you play? Didn’t anyone get you a script?”

“I don’t really use a script,” Jeremy said. “I usually work in the moment.”

Les looked like a grizzly bear ready to pounce. He tossed his clipboard to the floor and balled his hands into fists.

Jeremy’s eyes went wide. He backed to the wall. “Look, you only have a five-day commitment for me,” he said. “Then I’m off to do a Disney shoot for Bruckheimer. You’re wasting precious time, aren’t you?”

Les’s big chest was heaving up and down. His broad forehead glistened with sweat. “When you’re right, you’re right, Jeremy lad. You
are
a waste of time.”

Jeremy shut his eyes and wrapped his arms in front of his chest. “I want to see my agent. Is Howie here? Someone get Howie on the phone.”

“No need.” Les bent down and scooped up his clipboard. He stepped forward and smoothed a hand over Jeremy’s shoulder as if brushing something off his shirt. “Let’s kiss and make up. It’ll be a brief romance, okay? We’ll shoot your big death scene, and then you’ll be free to go and not read your script for Jerry Bruckheimer.”

Jeremy eyed him warily. “We’re going to finish up today?”

Les nodded. “First, we have to electrocute you.”

Jeremy turned to Delia. “Like in the original movie.”

“Like in the original movie,” Les repeated. “If you had opened your script, you would see that we’re using the same script as the 1960 film. Of course, we’ve updated it a bit.”

Delia whispered in my ear. “Whoa. For a moment, I thought Les was going to
devour
Jeremy.”

“Seriously,” I whispered back.

I glanced at the silver toaster on the kitchen counter. The image of Randy in the original film being shocked by the toaster flashed back into my mind. Randy surrounded by the crackling, white current. Dancing … dancing … His arms and legs tossing about, even after he was dead.

I shut my eyes and tried to force the image from my mind. I guessed we were about to see the same scene, this time with Jeremy. I suddenly wondered if Jeremy was a good dancer. The thought made me snicker.

“Okay, everyone. Places,” Les shouted. He stood at the kitchen doorway, waving us all up to the counter.

I followed Delia, Annalee, Jeremy, and Aidan, the boy playing Tony, onto the set. I didn’t have any lines in this scene. I was just supposed to scream my head off when Jeremy was electrocuted by the toaster.

Becka Tisdale, the script assistant, was having a whispered conversation with Les. She was as tall and needle-thin as Les was squat and chubby, and I always thought they looked like different species whenever they huddled together. She jabbed a finger at the open script in her hand, and Les kept nodding.

Finally, Becka closed her script, turned, and walked out of the kitchen, and Les turned back to us. “Okay. Let’s block this out,” he said. “For those of you who didn’t read your script, you are in a panic, frantic to get out of the house. But to your horror, you find the doors and windows locked. You appear to be trapped. So you—”

“Did we try the basement?” Jeremy interrupted.

“That comes later,” Les said. “Unfortunately, you won’t be around for that scene. Okay. Let’s start here.” He rubbed his stubbled cheeks. “You run into the kitchen. Tony, you pick up the phone. You hold it to your ear. You tell everyone it’s dead. No dial tone.”