Box Office Poison (Linnet Ellery) (2 page)

Muffled by the car windows, but still distinct, I heard the beat of propellers. Kobe indicated the cover on the sunroof. “May I?” he asked David. The vampire nodded and huddled in a corner of the backseat.

Once the cover was pulled back we saw a police helicopter and three press helicopters churning past overhead.

“Must be a really bad wreck up ahead,” Kobe remarked.

“Perhaps that explains our snail-like progress,” David said.

Kobe hit the turn signal, and slowly worked his way through the traffic to an exit marked
SANTA MONICA BLVD/CENTURY CITY
. I knew the address for the Los Angeles office was Avenue of the Stars, Century City. I saw a collection of skyscrapers ahead and to the right and assumed that’s where we were headed. They weren’t all that tall by New York standards, but in this city of low sprawl they stood out. They were also aggressively modern and very black.

We passed a gigantic Mormon temple on our left. On the right were shabby strip malls filled with nail salons and small ethnic restaurants. Then we turned down the broad avenue and shabby went away. There was a large shopping mall with digital billboards alternating between expensive electronics and chic women with pouty expressions. The street was clogged with luxury cars—in the space of a block I saw multiple BMWs, Mercedes, Lexuses, and even a Ferrari. Men in tailored suits and equally well dressed women hurried through crosswalks. Kobe turned into an underground parking lot beneath a black and glass tower and stopped at the valet parking area.

He unloaded David’s briefcase and my computer bag. “I’ll be waiting here to take you to your hotel,” he said.

We rode the elevator to the lobby, and then another elevator to the twenty-third floor. “Is this office managed by a vampire partner?” I asked as the floors flashed past.

“Naturally,” David said. “But Jackson is in Singapore negotiating a trade agreement. Our liaison will be Hank Pizer. He handles the small amount of entertainment law we do.”

“And he’s a vampire?”

“Yes.”

We stepped out and made our way to the end of the hall and the tall steel and glass double doors.
ISHMAEL, MCGILLARY & GOLD
was emblazoned in stainless steel script across the pediment. David held the door for me, and I stepped into a beehive of activity. Phones were ringing, young lawyers were hurrying past reading off iPads or sheaves of paper, and there was the click of computer keyboards like technological rain. The windows were UV-tinted and looked out at some hills that I guess passed for mountains in southern California. The floor underfoot was glossy bamboo, and the furniture was extremely modern. It didn’t look like a place a vampire would find comfortable.

A tall and lushly built woman with deep red hair piled high on her head left her desk and crossed to us. Her sky blue sundress displayed her every curve and deep décolletage.

“May I help you?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

Of course it was,
I thought bitterly, as I stared up at her and felt the uncomfortable wetness beneath my arms. I should have had Kobe pull out my suitcase and changed into California clothes in the bathroom instead of continuing to swelter in my New York winter outfit.

“David Sullivan and Linnet Ellery in from New York,” David answered.

“I’ll tell Mr. Pizer you’re here. I’m Elaine Gowdry, Mr. Pizer’s personal assistant. Junie,” Elaine called over her shoulder, “please put Ms. Ellery and Mr. Sullivan in the corner conference room.”

Junie, who turned out to be a tall, gorgeous, willowy black woman, led us to the conference room. There was a giant stack of file folders already on the oval table. As I unlimbered my laptop and David snapped open his briefcase, Junie asked,

“Something to drink? Coffee?”

“Something cold,” I said, plucking my sweater away from my damp skin.

“Water? Soft drink?”

“Coke, please,” I said, deciding I needed a blast of sugar and caffeine if I was going to stay on my feet.

“And you, sir. We have a good choice of types.”

“Something rich,” David said.

So, I thought, he’s tired.

Junie returned with a cut crystal glass filled with ice and an ice-cold can of Coke. Another assistant, a young man with carefully styled “casual” hair, carried a goblet of blood. He made eye contact with David and smoldered. When that didn’t work he tried a twinkle. Neither one elicited a response. Looking disconsolate, the young man followed Junie out of the room.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked

“What?”

“Having young straight men flirt with you?

David made a face and frowned down into his glass. “Puppy,” he growled. For a moment I thought that was his final word on the subject, but he surprised me and continued. “Why do these children think we’d find them useful additions to the community? They know nothing, have done nothing. They’re just pretty.”

“And who vets potential candidates? Do you have to run it past the Council or can an individual just Make a vampire?” I asked. “Because, seriously, who thought Ryan was a good choice? A vampire who was seducing female associates and risking everybody’s lives.”

“It’s a personal choice.” David gave the tight, closed-lip vampire smile. “To question another’s actions is tantamount to a challenge.”

The way he said
challenge
made it seem like a piece of vampire etiquette, one that I had never heard of, despite being fostered in a vampire household.

I was getting answers from one of the notoriously close-mouthed members of the Powers. I decided to see how long it would last. “Given your strictures against turning women, does that mean there are a lot of gay vampires … or at least gay men who became vampires?”

“Are you asking about my sexuality?” David asked.

I shook my head. “No. It’s me blurting out whatever is in my head. It’s also about me adding to my store of vampire lore and understanding. But now that you mention it, are you … were you gay?”

David laughed. It wasn’t the reaction I expected. “Linnet, Linnet, you are the oddest human I know. Perhaps it’s because you were fostered, but you seem to be completely fearless about us.”

“Let’s just say unimpressed,” I said.

“But still curious.”

“Very.”

“Your liege never discussed these matters?”

“Mr. Bainbridge wasn’t your typical vampire, and even he would never discuss sex with a young woman in his care.”

“And neither will I,” David said.

“Because you consider me in your care? Because I’m a woman? Or because you’re uncomfortable talking about it?”

David leaned back in his chair and took another long drink of blood. “You’re a good lawyer, Linnet. No matter which part of that question I answer, and no matter how I answer it, I’m fucked.”

I smiled at him, and he gave me a smile in return. At that moment the door to the conference room flew open, and a slim vampire of middle height blew in. Hank Pizer had a narrow, sharp-featured face with bright blue eyes and slicked-back black hair. Unlike every other vampire I’d ever met he had a deep tan. I looked closer and realized he had used a self-tanning spray. That was startling. More startling was the broad smile that he bestowed on us, revealing his long, pointed canines.

“Hey, Davy … Linnie. Welcome to LaLa Land.”

I didn’t mind the diminutive, having been called that for much of my childhood, but it was surprising to hear it from someone I hadn’t even technically met, especially given the formality of the New York office. I glanced at David, expecting an explosion. Again, he surprised me. He just sighed and shook his head.

“Hank, strive to recall that you’re a vampire now. You can get away with it around me, but don’t try it with the senior partners.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Pizer said. Startled, I looked to David, but he studiously avoided my gaze.

Pizer flung himself into a chair. “So, here we are. In the center of a legal shit storm.” His expression said how much he loved it.

“Let’s discuss the case,” David said.

Pizer shrugged. “You got the papers.”

“I’d like your take on it,” David said. “Right now it looks like one set of pretty, vapid, and narcissistic people is mad at another group of even prettier, more vapid, and far more narcissistic people.”

“With that attitude toward actors you’d make a great producer,” Pizer said. “Okay. Short version. The Powers come out. By the mid-1970s a few Álfar are starting to join the Screen Actors Guild and auditioning for parts, and getting them too, but it’s just a trickle, so no big whoop. But then a lot of bankable human stars start to age and die, and more Álfar show up, and new, young execs take control of the studios and the networks. They’re comfortable around the Powers, so they cast more Álfar, and then more Álfar come to Hollywood and join SAG. Now the Guild is half-human and half-Álfar, but guess who’s getting most of the juicy roles?”

“The Álfar,” I said.

Pizer made a gun with his forefinger and pretended to shoot me. “Right in one. They are awesome in the room.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“That’s Hollywood speak. You don’t have a meeting, you
get in a room together
.”

“Well, that’s obnoxious,” David said.

“Point is, they’re prettier than humans.”

“Their charisma doesn’t translate to the screen,” I said. “They are gorgeous, but I know—knew—an Álfar. It’s just not the same.” John’s perfect features swam briefly before my mind’s eye.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. It works in the audition, and like you said, they are gorgeous,” Pizer said.

“All of which proves my point. This is unworthy of serious legal action,” David huffed.

“So what? You want me to tell them to forget it? Get a different firm? It’s taken months to get the human actors, the Álfar actors, the studios, the networks, and all their lawyers to agree on Ishmael, and it’s a big payday for the firm.”

“Of course I’m not saying that.” David shook his head like a bull bedeviled by flies. “I’m just complaining. It’s too sunny here, and I can already tell I hate both sides, and this actor Montolbano who drew us into this.”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” I said. “The parties picked IMG to arbitrate. Why not use you? You’re here. You do entertainment law. Why bring us in from New York?”

“Because I’m a
player,
” Hank said.

“And Hank can always be found at a Hollywood party,” David said somewhat sourly. “Not exactly impartial. Or so the argument would go.”

Pizer did the gun/finger thing again. Hank was rather charming for a vampire, but I decided this 1970s habit could get real old real fast. “Exactly. They know we’ve got the moxie—as you would say—to handle this issue,” he grinned at David. “But folks on the West Coast figured you cold, proper Yankees wouldn’t be appropriately impressed with Hollywood glitz and glamour.”

“Well, they’d be wrong,” I said.

David slewed around in his chair and stared at me. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re a fan.”

“There isn’t a woman breathing who doesn’t think Montolbano is hot, hot, hot,” I said. Pizer gave a wild laugh.

“For an actor he’s also whip smart,” Pizer said. “It was genius to propose an arbitration before his guild tore itself apart.”

I stood and crossed to the stack of folders, laid my hand on top. “We got the Cliff Notes version of this. I’m assuming that witnesses have been approved and most depositions have been taken?”

“Yeah, we’re ready to rock and roll,” Pizer said.

“I don’t suppose you have copies of all this so we can read in our hotel rooms?” I asked.

“Of course I do. I’m Mr. Organization. Copies are already in each of your rooms and a second set in your offices. And no offense, but you look whipped.”

I forced a smile and counted to ten. Vampires are all about the courtesy except when they’re unbelievably rude, because humans just don’t rate.

“I am pretty tired.”

“Have the driver take you to the hotel,” David said. “I’ll stay here. The windows are UV-protected, and the blood is fresh.”

I gathered up my belongings and started for the door. “Hey,” Pizer said to David as I was leaving, “I didn’t know that place in Cabo was just a front for the mob. I’m making up for it this time. You’re staying at the Beverly fucking Hills Hotel. Just one of the premier hotels in LA. Why are you always such a—”

I shut the door behind me, cutting off the bickering, rolled my eyes, and headed for the elevators.

2

Kobe didn’t return to the freeway. Instead we drove up a curving, tree-shaded street lined with giant houses that ranged from mission style to bloated Tudors. The lawns were manicured swathes of green, and crews of gardeners wielded lawn mowers, leaf blowers, and clippers against various vegetation.

“This is Beverly Hills,” Kobe said from the front seat.

“Oh,” I said.

“Rodeo Drive is a couple of blocks east of your office.”

“Oh,” I said again, and wondered if every limo driver played tour guide? Of course this was the town where they sold maps to movie stars’ homes. Most people probably wanted to hear about these world-famous locations. I decided maybe I ought to offer more to the conversation, so I added, “That’s the big shopping area, right?”

“Oh, yeah. You can drop twenty grand fast on Rodeo Drive.”

“Guess I won’t be shopping there.”

Kobe laughed. “I hear you.”

I leaned forward a bit, and studied the passing houses. They seemed to alternate between multistoried French châteaux, and sprawling Spanish-style haciendas. “So this is where the movie stars live?”

“Some of them. A lot of them live in Bel Air and on Mount Olympus.”

“You’re kidding, right? That can’t really be the name of a subdivision.”

He laid a hand over his heart. “Scout’s honor. It’s a real place. We won’t be anywhere near Olympus, but we’ll be driving right past the entrance to Bel Air. You’ll see the guard gates.”

The town car made a turn onto Sunset Boulevard, and a few blocks later Kobe pointed out the entrance to Bel Air. There wasn’t much to see. Just a very steep driveway and a guardhouse manned by two men in private security uniforms. The houses were all screened by bushes and trees. A Jaguar was waiting while the guards inspected the driver’s license. I wondered if a Jag was too déclassé for Bel Air? The traffic was really moving on this wide boulevard, and with all the trees and grass I could forget I was in a giant city. Kobe made a turn toward the hills and we wound up a narrow road. A discreet sign indicated the Beverly Hills Hotel. We turned up the driveway and the hotel came into view.