The Siren

by Katherine St. John

  I lit one of the coconut-scented candles in my room and indulged in a long bath staring out at the placid sea, then ordered room service and set up camp in my cloudlike bed with a new romance novel from the secret stash I kept in my suitcase. I’d die if anyone ever found out about my guilty pleasure, but it was just that—pleasure. And escape, obviously, as my life was about as far from a romance novel as you could get. I didn’t have the time or bandwidth for real-life romance these days, and besides, my taste in men had been proven to be terrible. I preferred to love vicariously through vivacious Vivian and her brooding boarder Benjamin. He had rippling muscles and a secret, and they would doubtless consummate their forbidden romance in an explicit encounter beneath a palm tree on a deserted beach, as I had specifically chosen this novel for its fitting Caribbean setting.

  I knew I needed to get to the bottom of what the hell had happened last night but figured there were better times to approach Cole than when he’d doubtless been drinking all day. I’d do it tomorrow.

  Only, now it was tomorrow, and I still hadn’t quite worked up the courage. I realized, as I floated on my back staring up at wisps of clouds, that there was never going to be a good time to ask my boss what I’d done while I was blacked out. Problem was, I’d stopped taking birth control a few months ago because I wasn’t having sex regularly enough to deal with how crazy the hormones made me. Worst-case scenario, if I had in fact slept with him and God forbid he didn’t use a condom, I needed a Plan B pill and an STD test, stat. Could I even find a Plan B pill in this country?

  I needed to talk to him now.

  September 21, 2007

  Nova Weekly

  Cover Story: Stella Rivers Attacks Photographer

  Actress Stella Rivers was photographed accosting a photographer outside the Brentwood Women’s Clinic in Los Angeles on Wednesday afternoon. Rivers emerged from the clinic at 2:40 p.m. to find a throng of paparazzi waiting for her. The Golden Globe–nominated actress was clearly upset and grew further agitated when the photojournalists began asking questions. She then allegedly shouted a string of expletives before shoving one of the photographers and hurling his camera to the sidewalk. The photographer, whose name has not yet been released, sought treatment at a nearby hospital and will reportedly press charges against Rivers.

  The Under the Blue Moon actress married her Faster costar Cole Power in Las Vegas just over a year ago, but sources close to the couple say their marriage has been on the rocks for some time. It was earlier reported that the reason for their discord was that Rivers wanted to start a family while Power wasn’t ready, but according to our source, the opposite is true: Power has been the one with the desire to start a family while Rivers is more interested in her career. A friend of Rivers speaking anonymously revealed to us exclusively that Rivers was at the women’s clinic to undergo an abortion that Power was against, while Power sought consolation in Miami with their mutual friend Hannah Bridges, who reportedly tried to convince Rivers not to end her pregnancy.

  Stella

  By the time I left the beach, I was beyond famished. It was midafternoon, and I hadn’t eaten a thing since we left Miami at the crack of dawn. I knew I needed a workout more than a sandwich, but I was beginning to feel faint in the heat and my pills were wearing off, leaving me edgy. Clutching a sleeping Mary Elizabeth to my chest, I followed the signs for the restaurant along a shaded path and up wide wooden stairs around a wall of water spilling from the edge of an infinity pool.

  I emerged from the leafy greenery into the full glare of the sun just as an oversize man cannonballed into the pool, splattering me with water. I took off my sunglasses and wiped them on my caftan as a production assistant who couldn’t be more than eighteen rushed over, apologizing. I waved him away with a laugh. What, did he think I wasn’t cool? I was cool. I’d partied harder than any of these amateurs in my time.

  The pool was clearly where the fun was. Reggae music played and piña coladas flowed; a Ping-Pong game was in full swing under the awning of the restaurant. Most of the crew had to be here; there were at least thirty revelers, of which I counted one, two, three…four women, including Felicity and Madison, whom I had yet to meet.

  Felicity floated like a mermaid on a swan-shaped lounger in the middle of the pool, and Madison posed in front of a pot of colorful flowers by the Ping-Pong table while some guy snapped photos of her with a phone.

  My mouth watered as I watched Madison take a long draw of the pink frozen drink in her hand. Oh my God, I could almost taste it. Alas, I had to pretend to be sober the entire time I was here, like a teenager. So stupid. Thank heavens I had my pills and Felicity to secretly share her drinks with me. How was it possible I’d lived all my life without her up until a few months ago? Good help really was hard to find, especially on a tailored budget.

  I placed Mary Elizabeth in my purse and shed my caftan, revealing the sexy white one-piece I’d splurged on last week. The neckline plunged near to my belly button, and the butt was a Brazilian cut that made all the Pilates I’d been suffering through totally worth it. I knew I looked hot in it, and sure enough from behind my sunglasses I clocked more than a few of the guys checking me out. It felt good. “Fee,” I called.

  Her head snapped up, and the swan nearly tipped over. She paddled slowly toward me, laughing. “This thing’ll dump me into the water if I so much as breathe. You have a nice time at the beach?”

  “It was beautiful,” I confirmed. “It was lovely to catch up with Cole. We have so many friends in common, you know. And of course, our past…” My gaze drifted to Madison, now popping out from behind a plant over and over again. “What’s she doing?”

  Felicity followed my eyeline. “Boomerang. She’s been at it since I came up here.”

  At that moment, Madison noticed us staring and waved brightly. She grabbed her phone from the guy and hurried over, thick dark waves bouncing. She really did have enviable hair, and her makeup was fantastic; I’d have to ask her for tips. Maybe we’d become friends after all.

  “Hiiiii,” she sang, perching next to me and holding her phone out. It was then that I noticed she was filming. “This is my costar, the talented Stella Rivers,” she told the phone without looking at me. “It’s so nice to finally meet her. Say hi, Stella!”

  What a strange greeting. And I was not ready to have my picture taken. Heaven knows what I looked like after a sweltering day at the beach. I waved the camera away. “I’m good,” I said. “Maybe later.”

  “But we’re live streaming!” she protested.

  No, we were not going to be friends.

  “…with all my amazing fans,” she continued. “How many of you are there? Wow, I see we have more than 143,000 watching right now. That is truly, truly amazing.” She focused the camera on herself, batting her dark eyes flirtatiously. She was wearing eyelash extensions. Ugh, why hadn’t I thought of that? “Thank you all so much for being here. I can’t tell you how blessed I am to be in the beautiful Caribbean with such a talented cast. We have the camera-shy Stella Rivers”—she popped the phone over at me again, and I forced an uncomfortable smile—“and of course, Cole Power. Who doesn’t love Cole Power? Well, I can name one person, but she isn’t here now, is she?” She tittered.

  As Madison rambled on about how amazing everything was, I fingered my amethyst pendant and threw Felicity a telepathic plea, silently begging her to get me out of there. I knew it was good for me to be in Madison’s video in front of 143,000 fans—better than good. As much as I hated the fact that I was working with a YouTube star, she clearly knew how to court fans, and fans were what I needed. It really was so kind of her to include me, I chided myself. I should be grateful. I was grateful! Just not right now. I wasn’t twenty-five with flawless skin. Sure, my mother’s Venezuelan genes meant I was still getting carded at forty, but I needed to prepare to be on camera. I had an image to protect.

  I was getting panicky, trapped half in the video with thousands of fans looking on. Felicity must’ve read my mind
, because she pushed out of the pool and leaned into the shot between Madison and me, dripping all over her. “Oh!” Madison exclaimed. “Hi, Nikki!” She turned the camera on Felicity. “I’m so sorry, I can’t remember your other name.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Felicity said, her cleavage filling the frame as she leaned in to grab my hand. “I totally forgot I was supposed to take Stella for a final wardrobe fitting. You’ll have to forgive us.” She pulled me up, and we both blew the camera kisses as we hastened down the teakwood stairs that led from the pool to the beach.

  “Oh my God, that was intense,” I breathed when we were safely out of earshot.

  “Yeah, she’s a little much,” Felicity agreed.

  “Why was she calling you Nikki?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Apparently she was in an acting class with a girl named Nikki that looked like me.”

  “Weird.”

  “Not really,” she said, running her fingers through her bangs as we made our way down the shaded path that led to our row of over-water bungalows. “People are always telling me I look like someone else. It used to be annoying, but I’ve gotten used to it. I guess I just have one of those faces.”

  It was funny. I’d also noticed she resembled someone I knew in days gone by. But that someone was long dead, so I put it out of my mind.

  Once we were safely ensconced in our gorgeous bungalow, I flung open the sliding glass doors that opened onto the wide deck and serene sea beyond and collapsed on the couch, releasing Mary Elizabeth onto the fuchsia silk pillow beside me. “That was terrible. They’re all going to hate me. All 143,000 of them.”

  “No they’re not,” Felicity assured me.

  I held my hand out. “Throw me my smokes.”

  She palmed the pack and shot me a look. “You sure?”

  “Come on. It’ll be my first of the day.” I’d snuck one out the window when I took a shower this morning, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “But you’re doing so great.”

  It was true I was smoking far less than I used to, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. “For Godsake, just throw me one. My nerves are all jangled, and you’re not letting me have a pill.”

  She extracted a cigarette from the pack and threw it at me. I caught it and strolled to the open doors, striking a light on a matchbox emblazoned with the name of the resort.

  I inhaled, letting the nicotine do its work. The dive pool on our deck glittered invitingly, but I’d had enough sun for one day. The wrinkles just weren’t worth it. “Madison has to be a Leo,” I mused, blowing out a line of smoke that quickly dissipated in the breeze off the ocean.

  “Why?” Felicity asked.

  “She obviously thrives on attention. To court the public like that, inviting all those people into your private life to judge you?” I shivered. “I can’t imagine.”

  “That’s just Gen Z, everything is public. If a thousand people didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.”

  “But you’re not like that,” I protested. It was true, all her social medias were private, with only a handful of followers.

  She shrugged. “I’m a private person.”

  “Which is why we work so well together,” I said. “Why does Madison have so many fans, anyway? I mean, I know she’s a YouTube star or whatever, but what’s she famous for?”

  “She had leukemia when she was a teenager and got a huge following blogging about her struggle with it.”

  My jaw dropped. “Okay, now I feel like an asshole.”

  “Her dying wish was to be on a TV show,” Felicity went on, “so they gave her a walk-on role on Dallas Divas, which spiked the ratings so much that when she got well they made her a series regular.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  She laughed. “The internet.”

  “I need a drink.” I sighed, gazing out at the miles of turquoise water around us. “What do we have?”

  She traipsed over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Nothing.”

  “Order us something, will you? I’d love a chardonnay. Just get a bottle.”

  I stubbed the cigarette out in a shell ashtray as she dialed room service from the phone next to the Buddha-shaped lamp. I was grateful she had the sense to order a Chinese chicken salad for me as well (my favorite) and a club sandwich I knew was for her. The girl could eat bacon every day and never gain a pound, bless her heart.

  When she hung up, she handed me a bottle of water and one of my A-pills, thank God. I’d lost my Screen Actors Guild health insurance when I didn’t make the earning cutoff last year, and now my shoddy health insurance would only give me a thirty-day supply of my prescriptions, which wasn’t enough to cover the six weeks I’d be on the island, so Felicity had procured the rest of the pills for me through a doctor she knew. Or was it a pharmacist? It didn’t matter. She’d gotten them, which was what was important. Of course they were all generics with unpronounceable names, so we’d nicknamed each according to function. A-pills were for anxiety, D-pills for depression, P-pills for pain, and S-pills for sleeplessness. “Is it time?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Past time.”

  Finally. I downed the pill with a gulp of water, relieved. That must have been why I was feeling so panicky. Managing the pills could be tricky because they all had different half-lives, so they had to be taken at different times, and the A-pills made time seem slippery and unimportant. I’d often lose track. But I’d been so much better since Felicity came along to keep up with everything.

  The morning I met her in the park, my horoscope had said that a chance meeting could change my life. To expect help from unexpected places and that gold was a sign I was on the right path. I went out to walk Mary Elizabeth the same as I did every day, and all of a sudden there by chance was Felicity. When she literally dropped a gold bracelet on my path and Mary Elizabeth fell in love with her at first sight, I knew she had to be the “help from unexpected places.” It was a miracle, really. A stroke of fate. And I believed in fate.

  I’d gone to church sometimes growing up and always felt there was something out there bigger than myself, but I never had the time to explore it until I was in rehab the second time, after my DUI. The first time, rehab had masqueraded as an exorbitantly expensive “spa” for “exhaustion,” but this time I had to satisfy the terms of the court and hadn’t worked in two years, so it was stricter and less lavish. Though it ended up for the best and yet another example of fate stepping in because while I was there, I met a powerful psychic whose name was actually Faith, believe it or not. She shared her knowledge of metaphysics with me, and I’ve depended on her sage advice ever since. She’s the one that gave me my amethyst pendant and the tigereye bracelet I wear for protection.

  Faith had been telling me for years that everything was going to turn out fine if only I could be true to myself. Hiring Felicity was a step in the right direction, I thought. It was an example of being true to myself, because I was putting my needs first: I’d had the courage to hire her even though I didn’t know how I was going to pay her. And now here I was, shooting a movie with my ex-husband, of all people, tucked away in an extravagant over-water bungalow with a jaw-dropping view. (I’d had Felicity check the prices. They normally went for $4,000/night minimum.) So everything really was turning out better than fine.

  Felicity had been walking Mary Elizabeth for a solid week when I asked her to dog sit at my house while I was out for the day. By that time, my little darling was deeply in love with her, and Faith had read my cards and confirmed she was good for me, so I felt comfortable letting her into my sanctuary.

  I came home to find her perusing the wall of framed black-and-white stills from films I’d done. She was so sweet and interested that I would have felt guilty not answering her questions, and before long I was thumbing through my old photo books, sharing stories I hadn’t recounted in years while she hung on my every word. I’d had so many painful years that the memories of better times were often salt in my wounds and better to be avoid
ed, but with Felicity lapping up the adventures of my former life like a kitten starved for milk, recollection suddenly became a salve.

  The following week I asked her to dog sit again while I was out all day, and came home to both her and Mary Elizabeth on the kitchen floor licking Popsicles. It was an unseasonably sweltering day for May, and my air-conditioning wasn’t working. I’d told Felicity I was waiting on the AC guy to come out, but the reality was, it had been broken for two years. I needed a new compressor, which was going to cost eight thousand dollars I never seemed to have lying around.

  My home was a rambling Tudor affair in the Hollywood Hills, shaded by oak trees planted the year it was built, in 1928. I’d bought it outright for my twenty-third birthday, so all I had to pay were the property taxes, but I could barely manage those anymore. The house badly needed to be painted, and I’d stopped filling the pool a few years ago, but besides that and the air-conditioning, it was in pretty good shape.

  I’d only just been cast in The Siren the week prior and came in buoyed by a conversation with Jackson to find Felicity there on the tiled floor fingering an invitation to a charity thing.

  “Please don’t kill me.” She grimaced.

  I hadn’t been able to afford Botox at that particular moment, so I furrowed my brow. “Why?” I asked, alarmed.

  She licked the Popsicle, taking her time before responding. “I kind of RSVP’d for us to this charity thing tonight.”

  My jaw dropped. How could she? It was not her place.

  “I didn’t mean to,” she promised. “They called the house phone to confirm whether you were coming, and you’d told me to answer it.”