Jane met him at the trunk, which he opened with a double click of the key fob. The lid rose slowly, revealing Chloe inside. She was lying on her side, her hands tied behind her, and there was a piece of duct tape across her mouth. Byron reached down and pulled the tape away in one quick movement.
“Santa’s ball hair!” Chloe yelled. “That hurt!”
“I’m sorry,” said Byron as he reached behind the girl and untied her hands. “It was for your own good.”
Chloe scrambled out of the trunk as Byron offered her his hand. When she was standing on solid ground she looked at Jane. “I know you. You’re the writer lady.”
“I’m pleased you remember,” said Jane, eyeing the girl with distaste. She hadn’t noticed before how vulgar Chloe’s outfit was. It revealed entirely too much midriff.
“Is she a vampire too?” Chloe asked, speaking to Byron.
Byron nodded as he closed the trunk. “She’s also fully capable of understanding what you’re saying, so feel free to speak directly to her.”
Chloe was peering through the car window. “Hey!” she said. “That’s the dude who bit me!” She scrabbled at the door handle, trying to get inside, but Byron locked the doors with a click of the fob. Inside the car, Ted was leaning away from the window, watching Chloe with an expression of terror on his face.
“I want to bite him!” Chloe shouted, banging on the glass with her fists. “Open the door!”
Jane looked at Byron. “I see this is going to be loads of fun,” she said.
Byron took Chloe by the wrist and pulled her away from the car. “That’s not the boy,” he told her. “It’s his brother.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Chloe snapped. “If they’re twins, I’m sure they’ll taste the same.”
Byron put his hand on her chin and turned her head so that she was looking into his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said in a low, seductive voice. “It’s very important that you remain calm. I’m going to go find Ned. You’re going to go with Jane and do what you’ve been hired to do. Do you understand?”
Chloe nodded slowly as the glamor took effect.
“Good,” Byron said, releasing her. He turned to Jane. “If she misbehaves, stake her.”
A look of horror passed over Chloe’s face as Jane nodded. “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” the girl asked.
“In a heartbeat,” said Jane, trying to sound as if she meant it.
Byron got into the car and drove away, leaving Jane alone with her charge. “All right,” she said. “The plan is very simple. We’re going to go back to your trailer. Everyone thinks you’ve been in there resting after a fainting spell. You’re going to let them go right on thinking that. You’ll do whatever it is you’re supposed to do today, and then tonight we’ll discuss what comes next.”
“So, did I become a vampire because that guy bit me?” Chloe asked as they walked.
“Not entirely,” said Jane.
“Then how did it happen?” the girl said.
“It’s complicated,” Jane replied. “We’ll talk more about it later.”
“And I really am a vampire, right?” said Chloe. “I mean, this isn’t some kind of joke is it? Because if I’m being punked, I’m going to be really pissed off.”
“You’re not being punked,” Jane assured her. “Whatever that is. This is very serious. Although I must tell you, you’re taking it rather well.”
Chloe shrugged. “I played a vampire on High Stakes once,” she said. “You know, that show about vampires who run a casino in Vegas. I’m used to it. Besides, now I never have to worry about turning forty and not getting parts. I’ll always be young and pretty. Sounds like a win-win to me.”
“Be that as it may,” said Jane, “there are a lot of things you’re going to have to learn.”
They were approaching the film site. It was crawling with people, and Jane was hopeful that they might actually get to Chloe’s trailer without being seen. Then, to her horror, she saw approaching them the trio of Julia Baxter, Jessica Abernathy, and Shirley.
“There you are,” Julia said to Chloe. She looked at Jane. “Is she feeling better?”
“I’m fine,” Chloe told the director. “I just fainted or whatever.”
“Come with me,” said Julia, taking the girl by the hand. “We need to get you into hair and makeup. And I want to talk to you about your scene. I think you …”
Her voice trailed off, and Jane found herself faced with Shirley and Jessica. “I’m sorry I had to leave our lunch so precipitously,” she said. “There was a bit of an emergency.”
“So we heard,” said Jessica. “Listen, I spoke with Kelly and Julia, and everything is set. Shirley will work on any changes Julia wants in the script, and you’re free to write that novel I’ve been waiting for.”
“Well, you seem to have it all worked out,” Jane said sharply. Now that Jessica had laid all her cards on the table, Jane no longer felt compelled to adhere as strictly to rules of polite conversation as she normally would. Besides, she intended to call Kelly as soon as she could and straighten things out.
Jessica smiled. “I guess I have,” she said. “Isn’t it wonderful when everything works out for the best?” A chirping sound filled the air, and Jessica reached into her handbag. “Excuse me,” she said as she removed a cellphone. “I need to take this.”
The editor walked off, leaving Jane and Shirley alone. As soon as Jessica was out of earshot Shirley said, “I’m really sorry. I had no idea that Jessica did all of this behind your back. I never would have agreed if I’d known.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Jane. “I really didn’t want to work on the script anyway. And she’s right that I need to get this book written. Maybe it really is all for the best.”
“Don’t count on it,” Shirley said.
Jane looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Shirley snorted. “Jessica edited my first book,” she said. “I didn’t even have an agent then. I sent the manuscript in blind. Anyway, Jessica bought it. I was so excited. I thought this was going to be my big break.”
“Wasn’t it?” asked Jane. “That book did very well.”
“It did,” Shirley agreed. “And do you know how much I was paid for it?”
Jane didn’t want to ask. She assumed the amount was obscene.
“Five hundred dollars,” Shirley said.
Jane gasped. “But surely the royalties made up for that,” she said.
Shirley shook her head. “It was a work-for-hire contract. No royalties. Jessica told me it’s what all publishers did with first-time authors. What did I know? Until then I’d only ever published in my garden club’s newsletter.”
Jane was appalled. “What did you do when you found out she’d lied to you?”
Shirley shrugged. “I didn’t find out until the book was on the bestseller list and another writer friend asked what I was going to do with all the money coming in. By then the damage was done. But I got myself an agent and a new editor.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you still friends with her?” said Jane.
“Oh, we’re not friends,” Shirley said. “I trust her about as much as I trust a rabid dog. The only reason she hooked me up with this project is because I know a few things she doesn’t want her husband to know about.”
“You’re blackmailing her?” Jane said, thrilled by the prospect.
Shirley laughed. “I prefer to think of it as making her pay for her sins,” she said. “Our deal is that at least once a year she finds me easy work for big money. Working on scripts. Ghosting celebrity bios. Whatever. In return I don’t send her husband a certain set of photographs I had a private detective take of her and someone who isn’t her husband in room 1287 of the London Hilton.”
Jane shook her head.
“I know,” said Shirley. “I’m supposed to channel my anger into my work. Can I help it if I prefer good old-fashioned extortion?”
Jane laughed. “
It isn’t that,” she said. “I just can’t believe someone as horrible as she is has a husband.”
This time Shirley laughed along with her. When they were through Jane said, “How come you’re telling me this? Aren’t you afraid of your secret getting out?”
“I can read people,” Shirley said. “You’re one of the good ones. You won’t say anything. Besides, I feel bad taking this job from you. I figure it’s a trade. I take your job, and you have information that could ruin my life. Seems fair to me.”
“As I said, it’s not really important to me,” said Jane. “I just don’t like being bullied, especially by someone who resembles a praying mantis in heels.”
“I can always get you a set of those pictures,” Shirley said, grinning.
“I might just take you up on that someday,” said Jane, watching as Chloe emerged from a trailer and stormed toward the set. “Right now, though, I have to do some babysitting.”
Chapter 18
Keeping an eye on Chloe proved to be more difficult a task than Jane had anticipated. She had assumed that the actress would be before the cameras for most of the day, making it relatively easy to know where she was and what she was doing. However, she had failed to take into account the enormous amount of time between shots when the actors were doing absolutely nothing. Five minutes of acting were followed by half an hour of fussing with hair and makeup, worrying about the angle of the sun, trying to locate wayward assistants (everyone had an assistant, even the assistants), and trying to coordinate the half dozen pedestrians, bicyclists, and dog walkers who were required to move in and out of the frame while the actors spoke their lines.
In short, it was all very tedious, and Jane quickly became bored. This was a disappointment to her, as she’d expected the making of a film to be endlessly thrilling. She said as much to Chloe during one of the breaks, while the two of them sat in Chloe’s trailer and Chloe chain-smoked a pack of Marlboro Lights.
“I know, right?” Chloe said as she lit a new cigarette from the butt of the one she’d just finished. “I thought the same thing about making records. But you know what you do? You stand in this glass box and sing the same line two thousand times. You don’t even sing a whole song at once. You know my song ‘Primitive,’ right?”
Jane nodded, although she had no idea what the girl was talking about.
“I recorded that in, like, four different places,” said Chloe. “Mostly on the tour bus between gigs on my last tour. And the parts that Monkee Bidness raps? He did those over the phone from jail.” She inhaled, then blew the smoke out in one long blast. “This is pretty much the same.”
“Then how do you stay in character?” Jane asked her.
Chloe looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“Your character,” said Jane. “Barbara Wexley.”
“Is that her name?” Chloe said. “It just says Chloe in the script. How did you know what she’s called?”
“I wrote the novel,” Jane told her, trying to mask her shock at the girl’s ignorance. “The one the movie is based on,” she added when Chloe seemed not to understand her meaning.
“It’s based on a book?” said Chloe. “No wonder my agent wanted me to be in it. It will make me look smarter.”
Smarter than what? Jane wondered. She decided to abandon the topic of Chloe’s ability to remain in character despite constant distraction. Unfortunately, the only other topic in which they both had any interest was a more painful one.
“You probably have all kinds of questions about what it means to be—like we are,” Jane said.
Chloe lit another cigarette, her fourth in half an hour. “Not really,” she said. “I mean, what is there to know? You bite people and drink their blood. How hard can it be?”
“Well, that’s a good question,” said Jane, relieved to have found an opening. “It’s easy to think of feeding as simply—”
The sudden appearance of Byron in the trailer startled her, and she stopped talking.
“Now that is cool!” Chloe exclaimed. “How do you do that? Show me.”
“Later,” said Byron. “Right now we have more pressing matters to attend to.” He looked at Jane. “We’ve found Ned,” he told her.
“Where?” Jane asked.
“At the train station,” Byron explained. “He was heading to Montreal.”
“Ned,” said Chloe. “He’s the one who made me like this.”
Byron glanced at Jane. “You didn’t tell her yet?”
“I was getting to it,” Jane said.
Chloe tapped some hot ashes onto the carpet, where they burned for a moment and fizzled out, leaving a black circle in the pink shag. “Tell me what?” she said.
“It’s too complicated to get into right—”
“Ned bit you, but Jane turned you,” Byron said. He ignored the furious look from Jane. “But she had to do it to save your life,” he added. “So don’t blame her. We’ll talk about it later.”
“She—” said Chloe.
“I—” said Jane.
“Later,” said Byron. “Jane, you come with me. Chloe, don’t eat anyone. We’ll be back for you later.”
“Fine,” said Chloe. She pouted and kicked at the spot on the carpet. “Whatever.”
“Then it’s settled,” Byron said. He looked at Jane. “Best go invisible so no one sees you running away,” he said.
Jane sighed, closed her eyes, and concentrated. To her great satisfaction, she disappeared almost immediately.
“You have to teach me how to do that!” Chloe called out as Jane and Byron left the trailer.
When they were several blocks away Byron materialized behind a hedge. Jane followed suit.
“You’re getting very good at that,” Byron remarked as he walked toward his car, which was parked at the curb.
“Aren’t I?” Jane agreed. “I’ll be turning into a bat in no time.”
“A what?” said Byron as he opened the door.
“A bat,” Jane repeated. “You promised to show me how, remember?”
“Of course,” said Byron, starting the car. “It slipped my mind.”
He pulled away from the curb and started driving. “Ned is at my house,” he explained. “With Ted, of course. They’re still dressed alike, and I’ll be damned if I can tell one from the other even now.”
“We should tag one of them,” said Jane. “Through the ear. Like they do with cows.”
“We could brand them, I suppose,” Byron said thoughtfully. “We used to do that with sheep, remember?”
“I do,” said Jane. After a moment she sighed. “It all seems so long ago,” she said.
“It was long ago,” Byron replied.
Jane looked out the window at the passing houses. “Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked.
“Of what?” said Byron.
“Living,” Jane said.
Byron stopped at the corner, looked for oncoming traffic, and turned left. “No,” he said. “I never tire of it.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jane said. “But let’s assume for the moment that you are not lying to make me feel better—which you are. Don’t you ever think about that last day?”
“You’re a confounding young woman,” Byron said. “What last day?”
“The last day,” said Jane. “Of existence. Of everything.”
“We’re immortal,” Byron said. “There doesn’t have to be a last day.”
“I don’t mean our last day,” Jane said. “I mean, I do, but I’m speaking about the last day of the world. It has to end sometime. At some point the sun will die and everything will go black and freeze, or whatever happens when suns die. I don’t know. But it’s sure to be grim and very final.”
“Oh, that,” said Byron as he turned onto his street. “I don’t worry about that.”
“How can you not?” Jane asked. “If we indeed live forever, we’re going to be here when it all comes to its dreary end.”
“By then we’ll have figured out how to live on th
e moon, or Saturn, or somewhere else,” Byron said.
He reached his house and drove up the driveway, coming to a stop and turning the car off. “Look,” he said. “I know you’re going through this existential crisis about Walter, and that’s to be expected, but—”
“This is not about Walter,” Jane exclaimed.
“Yes it is,” said Byron kindly. “You just haven’t figured that out yet. But you will. Right now, however, we need to go deal with our wayward child. Would you like to be the nice parent or the mean parent?”
Jane stared at him. She wanted to argue with him some more about what he’d said about Walter. To her annoyance, however, she realized that he was right. “I’ll be the mean parent,” she said. “He won’t be expecting that.”
“Frankly, neither was I,” said Byron as they got out of the car. “I must say it’s rather arousing.”
“Shut up,” Jane snapped.
Byron smiled seductively at her as he opened the front door and waved his hand. “After you, mistress,” he purred.
Ted and Ned were in the living room, seated next to each other on the J. and J. W. Meeks sofa Byron had recently purchased from an antiques store in New York. He’d had it reupholstered in garnet velvet, and it reminded Jane of a sofa that had been in the villa at Lake Geneva the summer she’d met Byron. She vaguely remembered him making love to her on that sofa, and for a moment she became flustered.
She calmed herself, stood in front of the boys, and looked down at them with what she hoped was an expression of disappointment and anger.
“Just where did you think you were going?” she asked. Unable as yet to determine which brother was which, she addressed the space between them.
The brother on the left lifted his head and looked at her. “I was afraid you would be angry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Jane narrowed her eyes. “Fangs,” she barked. “Show me.”
The young man opened his mouth. A second later a pair of fangs clicked into place. Jane nodded. “Ned,” she said. She looked at the other brother. “You can go,” she said sharply.
Ted looked up. “But—”
“Go!” Jane repeated. “Back to the store. Lucy will be wondering where you are.”
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