Ocean Beach (18 page)

“Watch the…wall.” Deirdre winced as the door of the ugly avocado refrigerator fell open and smacked into the plaster. The last refrigerator had landed too heavily on the foyer floor and cracked one of the hexagonal tiles. Deirdre’s eyes had gone wide with horror.

At the piano, Max was doing a pretty fair imitation of Jimmy Durante for Dustin, who’d been deposited nearby in the portable playpen. Kyra moved around them, shooting the performance as well as Deirdre and the movers. She and Troy continued to shoot the same things, though not necessarily at the same time.

There was a crash and the sound of wood and metal parting ways. A terse shout from Avery followed.

The lights came back on and Nicole took advantage of the opportunity to plug in the laptop and her portable printer, on which she printed out photos of the women she hoped would induce Amherst to sign on the dotted line.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Nikki looked up to see Maddie standing in the kitchen doorway. Her hair was up in a banana clip and there were smudges of dirt and what might be pollen all over her face and clothes. “You look like you just lost a mud-wrestling match.”

“I think I did,” Maddie said. “I’m not a gardener. Back in Atlanta I won lawn of the month once due to a technicality. But we sure could use Renée Franklin and her garden
ladies. Or someone who’s spent time in a tropical rain forest.” She rubbed her nose and left another smear of dirt. “Giraldi brought his own lawn mower the other day. Do you think he has gardening tools?”

Nicole frowned. She’d been trying not to picture Joe Giraldi in any environment. She didn’t want to imagine him pruning and weeding. Or doing laundry. Or God forbid, making a bed. “I don’t know,” she said neutrally. She hadn’t yet actually agreed to have dinner with the FBI agent, but when he’d texted her the time of their reservation and when he planned to pick her up, she hadn’t refused. “If I hear from him, I’ll ask.”

Nicole closed her laptop and stood to stretch out the kinks. “Maybe we should invite Renée Franklin and her garden ladies down for a visit. Although they’d have to drive. I’m pretty sure chain saws aren’t allowed through airport security.”

Madeline smiled and rubbed her nose, leaving another smear of dirt. The doorbell rang. Nikki glanced out the window and saw a Volkswagen Beetle angled up into the drive.

“I’ll get it,” Maddie said, already moving into the foyer. A moment later the screen door squeaked open.

Madeline looked at the woman who stood on the front stoop. She was tall and unusually broad-shouldered. Oversize sunglasses covered much of her face, but it was hard to miss just how badly she could use a facial.

The woman glanced over her shoulder then back at Maddie. She cleared her throat and pursed her lips, which were painted an unforgiving red. “May I come in?”

Her voice was smooth but deep. Straight dark hair fell past her shoulders. She wore a black silk blouse belted over
a black print pencil skirt. A designer handbag hung from one broad shoulder. All of the pieces said “woman,” but the clothes didn’t flatter her figure. And she would have benefited from a session or two of laser hair removal.

Madeline hesitated. She’d been half expecting this since the night they’d watched TV with Max. She suspected Kyra had too, though they’d both been careful not to talk about it. “What do you want?” Maddie asked, though she already knew.

The woman pulled open the screen door and Madeline noticed that although the stranger’s hands were soft, they were large and long-fingered. The nails, while manicured, were cut short and unpainted.

“Is Kyra here?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Maddie hedged. “Why don’t I take a message and then when I do see her I’ll give it to her?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder once more then turned back and craned her neck to see over Madeline’s shoulder, a not too difficult feat given the woman’s height. “Why don’t I just come in while you figure out whether she’s here or not.”

Madeline looked at the line of the stranger’s jaw and at the Adam’s apple that was roughly the size of Chicago. “I’m sorry,” she said again, wishing she could just pretend this was, in fact, some strange woman here to see Kyra. “But I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” She reached for the doorknob. “The house is full of workmen. And if she is here, she’s probably shooting.”

The piano music stopped and Maddie looked over. Max had both hands on the piano frame and was in the process of straightening. Even as she began to pull the door closed, she knew she was handling the situation poorly. Every
instinct told her that allowing this “woman” into the house and their lives would be a colossal mistake, but not a single viable alternative presented itself.

“Sorry.” A high-heeled black sandal wedged into the door opening and the voice dropped several octaves as the woman stepped in. “But I can’t stand outside anymore. I don’t want anyone to see me.”

In the foyer the woman pulled off the sunglasses and stepped out of the sandals.

Maddie stood frozen, debating what to do.

The wig came off next and then one large hand plucked off a spidery false eyelash. Daniel Deranian smiled his trademark smile and scrubbed at his famous chin. “I’m in town filming a movie,” he said. “I came to meet my son.”

There was a loud crash upstairs as Maddie closed the front door. In the living room, Dustin started to cry.

Deranian turned toward the sound. “Is that Dustin?” He moved into the living room, his steps somewhat mincing due to the tightness of the pencil skirt.

“No. Wait,” Maddie said. “I really think we should wait until Kyra…”

But Deranian was already halfway across the living room and moving toward the portable playpen as quickly as the pencil skirt would allow. Maddie wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard her “no,” or perhaps he was so unused to hearing the word that it simply didn’t register.

Daniel Deranian didn’t have Giraldi’s bulk or Chase Hardin’s height, but he was broad-shouldered and slim-hipped and the muscles he had were well defined. At forty
he easily played mid-thirties heartthrobs. He’d even looked attractive as a woman. Wondering what the chances were of getting him out of the house before Kyra found out he was there, Maddie followed the movie star into the living room. Max stood in front of the playpen, arms crossed, attempting to prevent Deranian from getting too close to Dustin.

“Please step aside,” Deranian said. “That’s my son you’ve got there.”

“Is that right?” Max lowered his hands to the sides of the playpen. Maddie knew this was less of a protective gesture than it looked; more likely it was Max’s attempt to support his body weight. “You’re not exactly dressed like anybody’s father, are you?”

This was true. But even with Deranian half dressed as a woman, the resemblance between the actor and her grandson was impossible to miss.

Maddie was still debating her next move when Kyra swept into the room with Troy and Anthony close on her heels. “What’s wrong, little man?” she cooed. “Did Uncle Max tell you a bad joke?” Kyra reached down to scoop up the baby. “You know he’d do anything for you.”

Troy had his camera up on his shoulder and Maddie could tell he was shooting. The cameraman took a step back and swung his camera slowly to include Deranian in the shot. Surprised by the movement, Kyra looked up and spotted the man she’d once believed would come sweep her and their child up into a Hollywood version of happily ever after.

Maddie watched, her heart pounding, as Kyra registered his presence. She couldn’t tell if Kyra had been imagining
this meeting ever since she’d discovered the actor was in Miami, but Kyra’s surprise seemed infused with both tension and satisfaction.

“He looks just like me,” the actor said quietly as he stared at his son in Kyra’s arms. “I couldn’t tell from the photograph you sent, but he has my father’s chin.”

Troy’s fingers moved on the camera. Even Maddie, who knew only what Kyra had shared with her about filmmaking, knew he was probably going in for a close-up. Or was he framing a shot of father and son that would confirm that the baby and the movie star had not only the same chin but the same dark eyes, curly hair, and golden-brown skin?

“No.” Deranian put a hand in front of the camera lens. “You can’t do that. You’ll have all the people I gave the slip to piled up outside.”

Troy didn’t lower the camera. Maddie suspected the threat of intense coverage didn’t sound particularly negative to the young cameraman, who could probably make a fortune with what little he’d already shot. Not to mention how happy he’d make Lisa Hogan with all the extra publicity.

“Put it down, Troy,” Kyra said. And when nothing happened. “Please.”

Slowly, Troy lowered the camera.

“Please turn it off,” Kyra said. “We don’t want some shot of Daniel in that skirt being cut together with stray audio and somehow finding its way onto the Internet or anything.”

“Who would do that?” Troy asked.

“I’ve done the equivalent,” Kyra said. “To my own mother. And to Avery and Nicole.” She looked from Daniel to Troy and back again, her grasp on Dustin tight. “Believe
me, I know how tempting this is for you,” she said to the cameraman, her animosity temporarily gone.

“I’m wearing a dress,” Deranian said. “Not really great for the image.”

“Yeah, I noticed that right off,” Troy replied. “But I’m not all that worried about your image.” His gaze slid over Dustin, who’d slipped a thumb into his mouth. He turned the camera off.

“A lot of the ‘he-man’ actors in Hollywood in my day were also fagalas,” Max said. “That’s Yiddish for—”

“We know, Max,” Kyra said while Maddie bit back a smile, relieved that disaster had been at least temporarily averted. “But Daniel’s not gay. He’s in disguise.”

“Are you sure?” Max asked. “He fills that skirt out pretty good.”

Troy snorted. “I’ll say. Did Tonja pick it out for you? Or is it hers? It’s not every man who can fit into his wife’s clothes.”

Deranian put his hands on his skirt-clad hips. Certainly from a distance he would have looked female enough to fool a pack of photographers. If it weren’t for the light five o’clock shadow and the erratic shaving job on his legs, he might have passed for Dustin’s mother.

“That’s enough,” Kyra said to Troy. “More than enough.”

Maddie read disagreement in the cameraman’s eyes. And something that resembled disappointment. The room pulsed with conflicting emotions and flagrant uncertainty. Even Deranian seemed slightly unsure of how to proceed.

“Max,” Maddie said. “This is Daniel Deranian, Dustin’s father. He’s an actor. Daniel, this is Max Golden. He’s a comedian.”

“No kidding,” Deranian said.

“No, she means that literally,” Kyra said. “Max is a pretty well-known comedian. He ran with the Rat Pack back in the day.”

“So this one’s married to someone else, but he’s Dustin’s father?” Max asked.

“Yep,” Troy said. “The guy has a bit of a problem keeping his pants zipped.”

“
Oy, gevalt
,” Max said, looking back and forth between father and son. “Did you know about this, Madeline?”

“Yes,” Madeline said, unaccountably embarrassed.

“The whole world knows about this, Max,” Troy said. “I think you must have missed a couple of episodes of
Entertainment Tonight
and
Celebrity Roundup
along the way.”

Daniel Deranian cocked his head to study the cameraman. “What’s going on here? Have you got the hots for her too?”

Troy’s gaze narrowed and Maddie couldn’t help thinking of white and dark knights squaring off to do battle over the damsel, even as they contributed to that damsel’s distress. Deranian’s taunt had been disturbingly present tense.

“Me-me-me-mex.” Now that he was in his mother’s arms and the center of attention, Dustin seemed perfectly content.

“What are you
really
doing here, Deranian?” the cameraman asked. “You and your wife have a houseful of children. What do you care about this one?”

“That’s definitely enough,” Kyra said, staring at Troy. “Could you leave us alone for a few minutes?”

Troy shook his head in disgust. “Please tell me he’s not going to show up and snap his fingers and—”

Dustin buried his face in his mother’s neck. Kyra jiggled him gently in her arms then began the new-mother sway. Deranian’s attention remained fixed on her and the baby.

“That
is
enough,” Deranian said, turning to the cameraman, the voice suddenly packed with menace. As if someone had flipped a switch or given a cue on a film set.

“Fine.” Troy shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him. “I guess some people don’t know how to learn from their mistakes.” He looked at Max and lowered his voice. “Come on, Max. I want to get some shots of you out front and puttering around the Caddy. I have an idea for a promo.”

“Okay.” Max turned to Deranian. “You be nice to Kyra and Dustin. They’re living in my home and they’re under my protection.”

“Yes, sir.” Deranian stopped just shy of rolling his eyes. They all watched the cameraman and the old man walk slowly away. The actor looked to Maddie.

“Maybe I should go make a, um, grocery list,” Maddie said, though she’d done that earlier. It was clear Deranian didn’t want her around.