Fame

by Susan X Meagher

  ***

  After spending the last hour of her very long day writing a detailed apology note with copious explanations, Piper got up on Monday morning and went to a local florist, spending a few hour’s pay on a tasteful, but extravagant bouquet of flowers. She didn’t even know if Haley liked flowers, but they were a clear visual signal of Piper’s regret over how things had turned out.

  She rang the bell at Haley’s apartment after sneaking into the building as the postal delivery guy was leaving. It felt really strange to be standing in front of a door she’d never entered, and her nerves were on a razor’s edge, but she hung in there. Her hearing was excellent, and she was sure there were faint footsteps in the apartment that came close to the door. Then they retreated again. Sighing with defeat, she left the flowers and the letter, and went back home, tail between her legs.

  ***

  As soon as she got home, Piper had to jump into the swirl of her new duties, which had begun to build even though it was only ten in the morning. As the day wore on, she began to wonder if she had the goods to deliver on her promise to handle the job. She had no idea how people managed multiple actors, although she knew nearly every authentic talent manager did. Simply keeping Charlie headed in the proper direction took the entire day.

  The day’s business calls, which she kept a log of, numbered close to fifty. Mostly from Charlie’s agent Lamar or his assistant, but an awful lot from the production company and the studio. But she kept at it, using the work to take her mind off Haley, who was probably now on a plane, heading for Hawaii.

  She’d been so busy she’d not stopped for a real meal, and by five she was starving. Just as she was about to shut down her computer the phone rang again, with the studio name appearing on her screen.

  “Piper Campbell,” she said.

  “Piper? It’s Zandra Robinson, from the studio.”

  “Hi there. What can I do for you?”

  “Nothing at all,” the perky voice replied. “I’d like to have your permission to start working on the quarantine situation.”

  “The…what?” She knew she’d been concentrating too hard, but she was fairly certain she could still understand simple English.

  “Charlie’s dog can’t enter Hawaii directly,” Zandra said, now sounding a little tentative. “Didn’t you know that?”

  “No,” she said, sighing. “So, what do we do?”

  “Their dogs aren’t vaccinated against rabies, since it doesn’t exist on the islands, so they’re very careful to make sure visiting animals are clear. Since there isn’t any way around the law, we’ve got to comply.”

  “Delta’s a puppy. He’s had all of his vaccinations. Where would he have contracted rabies?”

  “The law isn’t very flexible,” Zandra said. “But I know Charlie won’t want him kept in a crate at the airport for a hundred and twenty days.”

  “A hundred and twenty days!”

  “It’s a long time,” she soothed, “but we have some options.”

  “He’s a puppy,” Piper fumed, “and he hasn’t been alone for an hour!”

  “I understand,” she said, still talking to Piper like she was a child throwing a tantrum. “There’s an accelerated program that would quarantine him for five days or less, but to qualify for that he has to have a one hundred and twenty day waiting period before he arrives in Hawaii. So, it looks like the only option is to have him certified as a service dog. You’ll just need a written statement from the vet that Charlie has to have him for her mental health, then prove he’s up to date on his vaccinations. He’ll be inspected at the airport, but he won’t be held.”

  “Then we’ll do that,” Piper said decisively. “It doesn’t matter what it costs, and I don’t care if you have to go to the fucking governor to make this happen. Delta’s not going to sit in a cage for four months, and that’s final!”

  “I understand. I’ll make sure we’ve got everything in order before we take off.”

  “We? You’re going with us?”

  “The studio doesn’t want Charlie to get off the plane carrying a dog,” she said, her voice having grown softer. “They don’t think that sends the right message.”

  “Fuck their message!”

  “It’ll be fine,” Zandra soothed. “It’s my job to get Delta to Hawaii and be with him every step of the way. I’ve done this before, Piper, on every continent. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Fine,” she said, letting out a frustrated breath. “Just…” She sat up tall and squared her shoulders, at least trying to look like a functioning adult. “Delta means a lot to both of us, and I’m pretty sure Charlie would pull out of this movie rather than risk harming him.” She paused to let that sink it. “Do you read me?”

  “I do,” she said soberly. “You can count on me. If you’ll just send me his vet’s name, then call the vet to allow me to access his records, I’ll get the process started.”

  “I’ll do that right now. Text me your email,” she said. “And let me know if you have any problems. I’m really not kidding when I say this is a make or break proposition for Charlie.”

  “There’s not a part of me that thinks you’re kidding,” Zandra said before cutting the connection.

  Piper sent the info, then shut down for the day, slamming her laptop closed with such force that Delta leapt to his feet, barking like mad.

  “It’s okay, little man,” she said, leaning over to pick him up and set him on her legs. He stretched to reach her face, then launched into his usual routine of licking it with such enthusiasm that it must have worn him out. She scratched between his shoulders, soothing herself as she stroked him. Then, through the haze of endorphins she got from his puppy love, she let herself replay the last few minutes.

  She’d just gone apeshit on a perfect stranger who was merely trying to make her life easier. Not only that, she’d demanded that the woman circumvent what was clearly a reasonable, although onerous, law by using her sister’s privilege to secure a workaround that normal people couldn’t possibly avail themselves of. Disgusted with herself, she put Delta on the desk and opened the laptop again, firing off an apology to Zandra, explaining that she’d gotten a little panicky at the thought of Delta being taken from them. Finally, she said that if worse came to worst, they’d hire someone to watch Delta at home. That was not something she wanted to do, but it was insane to threaten to withdraw from a huge movie just because your dog couldn’t go with you. A thought flashed through her head, and she gave it a thorough airing. If Delta couldn’t go, Charlie might hire a manager so that Piper could stay home with him. That would mean letting Charlie down, not to mention ruining even the opportunity to make amends to Haley, but at least she could go back to her real job and stop acting like an over-privileged jerk.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  IT HAD BEEN EXACTLY TEN years since Haley had been on a film set, the interminable third installment of Quote The Raven, shot over four months during Romania’s coldest winter in generations.

  As a van dropped her and two duffle bags’ worth of her stuff at a decent-looking hotel far from the beach in Oahu, she reminded herself that no matter how bad this shoot might get, it couldn’t possibly top that one for awfulness.

  Her room was pretty standard, small, and utilitarian, but she didn’t have to share with anyone, always a plus.

  After unpacking and eating the salad she’d picked up at the airport, Haley went outside to find a cab. The animal trainers were working in a warehouse near the airport, and she wanted to get over there as quickly as she could to get the lay of the land.

  A young guy was working the valet booth, and he assured her cabs came by all the time. So, she sat on a bench under an awning and waited.

  The hotel was located well up from the ocean, which you could catch glimpses of when the verdant foliage bent to the right from the stiff, warm wind. Someone who’d just seen a photo would say it looked like LA, but it didn’t feel like LA to her. Having grown up in a place with a distinct change of s
easons, she was attuned to humidity, something her fellow Angelenos didn’t seem to realize was a fact of life for most of the planet.

  Here, the air was so moist she felt like she could wring it out, but it wasn’t the stultifying humidity Kansas experienced right before a summer storm. It was more like you felt when you entered a bathroom a few minutes after you’d showered. The air was definitely moist, but it felt clean and nourishing rather than clammy. If the weather stayed like this, she was going to be a happy camper—at least as far as the climate was concerned.

  A cab finally arrived, and in a relatively short time she was nosing around the warehouse, trying to find her way in. It took a few minutes, but she managed to make out a door halfway down the side of the place. Not bothering to knock, she pried it open and entered a cool, dim building that had been sectioned off into large squares by low divider walls. Each square was set up for the type of animal being housed, the nearest one outfitted with shallow plastic swimming pools, with turtles meandering around on mounded piles of sand. To her right, she immediately recognized her spot. This section held a bunch of individual cages, with a massive one in the center, where a guy stood, holding a gigantic parrot on his arm.

  She approached and called out, “Hi, there. Haley Dillon, reporting for work.”

  She was fairly sure she hadn’t imagined the long-suffering sigh he let out before he turned her way. “Yeah. Spike said you’d be here this week. I didn’t know it’d be today.”

  “Haley Dillon,” she said again. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Chandler Bass. Give me a minute and I’ll come out.” She cooled her heels by walking around the building, checking out all of the creatures they were going to use. You couldn’t train turtles or fish, but they obviously needed a lot of them. They’d have had to be checked out by a specialist vet, and probably had all sorts of permits, but until they were ready for their close-ups, they’d just loll around, waiting.

  Not so for the birds and any mammals, none of which she’d yet seen. She thought of Piper’s early question of whether she could train a monkey, thanking her lucky stars she didn’t have to. They could be charming, but they could also drive you nuts, as well as being unpredictably dangerous.

  Chandler came up behind her and stood there for a second, looking at some notes on a clipboard. “Are you ready to work?” he asked, not even bothering to glance at her.

  “Are you talking to me?” She took a quick look over her shoulder, assuming there must be someone else he was addressing.

  “Yeah. Are you? I don’t want to hand Bobby over if you’re just blowing in to make an appearance.”

  “Appearance?” She stared at him for a few moments. “If you’re asking me a serious question, you need to try again. I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  Slowly, his gaze traveled up, starting at her chest and inching along until their eyes met. “Spike told me you’re a dog trainer, which would be nice if we had dogs on set—which we don’t. So I’m trying to figure out if you’re actually going to try to help out or if you’re just punching in for the hours.”

  Patience at an end, she snapped, “Say what’s on your mind, Chandler. You’ve obviously got an agenda.”

  Now his focus was locked on her, and it was clear he would have rather slapped her than look at her. “My agenda is getting all of these animals ready for the production to start in two weeks. So, if you’re going to run off to hang out with Tim Banks or…what’s the girl’s name? Charlie? I’d rather you just did that. How many hours did they promise you?”

  Slack-jawed, she regarded him for a minute. Her instinct was to try to convince him she’d been forced into the job, to prove she didn’t know Tim Banks from Adam, to insist she was a professional trainer, with thousands of hours working with birds. But a dark urge flew through her like a penetrating wind. She opened her mouth to let him have it. To unleash some of her anger onto this jerk who was going out of his way to be an asshole. But she pressed her lips together firmly, took some cleansing breaths, then said, “I’ve been a proud member of Teamsters Local 399 for fifteen years. I know what I’m doing, and I’m here to work.” Turning, she walked into the cage, feeling some of the heat leave her flushed cheeks as she shut the gate, leaving her alone with someone whom she was certain was more pleasant than Chandler.

  The parrot was huge, gorgeous, and inquisitive. His vibrantly colored head tilted dramatically, then flipped to the other side and tilted again. Back and forth he went, trying to see her from every angle. Then she spoke to him, keeping her voice low and soft. “Hi there, Bobby. Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Want to chat?”

  He flapped his wings, slightly agitated. After shifting his weight from foot to foot, he settled down and shouted, “Bo-bee! Treats for Bo-bee!”

  “I could use one myself,” she said, sighing. “I feel like I’m due.”

  ***

  By the end of her first full week of managing Charlie’s career, Piper was beginning to gain some confidence about her role. Everybody from a kid doing a school project to heads of major production companies wanted a piece of her sister, and she’d come to realize the majority of her job was deciding who got a bite.

  Charlie hadn’t been around much, spending lots of time doing print interviews that would come out after her role was announced, having a mold made of her body for an action figure, and being photographed all over Southern California. It was amazing to listen to photographers come up with unique ideas for photo shoots, most of them absolutely crazy. Today, Charlie was in an abandoned factory in East LA, doing some kind of post-apocalyptic kind of thing. Why? No one had a good answer for that, but they all claimed it was genius. Of course, every idea was either genius or awesome or amazing, hard stress on the “aze”. All conversation could be condensed to those three words, and no one would blink.

  Piper wasn’t sure if it was just Charlie’s youth, or her starvation diet, or her increased exercise, but she was already down ten pounds. She didn’t look bad, but she certainly didn’t look good. Given that her normal weight was one fifteen, she’d lost over eight percent of her total. That was a huge amount for someone who truly didn’t have a spare pound.

  All of Charlie’s clothing, even her yoga pants, were loose, making her look a little lost amidst the fabric. Piper was going to buy her some new bras, but Charlie didn’t want to spend a lot of money on replacing her other things. As soon as she finished shooting those starvation scenes, she was planning on eating normally, certain she’d gain the weight back quickly.

  Charlie had to make some form of appearance twice a day, trying to get her name in the trades as much as possible prior to the announcement: a club, a premiere, a film screening, a trendy restaurant. And Piper had to do her hair before she could even go out to get a cup of coffee. Even though many of Charlie’s peers went out looking like they were unemployed baristas or heroin addicts, the producers and the studio stressed they wanted her to have a very polished, wholesome appearance as her star began to shine more brightly. Piper did her best to keep her looking perfect—which wasn’t hard given the raw material. And the clothing Charlie had been given was carefully curated to make her look a little younger. That was apparently vital, since her character has just turned seventeen.

  But even though Piper was busier than she’d ever been, she had too much free time. Time spent going over the mess she’d made of things with Haley.

  Despite having only known her for a matter of weeks, this was truly a significant heartbreak—Piper’s first. How she’d gotten to this point of her life without much romantic trouble was a question she couldn’t answer, but she was totally certain that broken hearts sucked. It was hard to focus, hard to keep her mood even, hard to exercise, and even hard to be around Charlie—which was especially difficult when you worked in her house.

  She couldn’t put all of the blame on her sister, even though it was tempting. But the truth was, if Piper hadn’t kept secrets in the fi
rst place, she wouldn’t have been on thin ice to start with. That was on her—not Charlie—so her anger made her feel guilty about misplacing it. In all, she was pissed off at everyone, herself included, and hated having her evenings free to ruminate about it. But she’d effectively said goodbye to her friends, and frankly was too embarrassed to have to tell them she’d blown it with Haley.

  She’d made all of the phone calls she could make, and her in box was empty, so she got up and went into the yard, with Delta right on her heels. “I’m going to bed,” she announced. The dog’s little head cocked, staring at her. As she walked toward the stairs to her apartment he followed along, then sat and gave her a mournful look. “Yes, you can come with me,” she said, bending to tuck him under her arm. She was certain he could walk up the stairs by now if he wanted to, but he liked to save his energy for chasing the birds who had the nerve to do a fly-by of the pool. As they entered the apartment, she thought of the night Haley had stayed over. A weight seemed to settle on her chest, and she dropped onto her recliner and let the tears fall. Delta, clearly upset, started to frantically lick her face while whimpering softly.

  “It’s okay,” she soothed, rubbing her hand down his bony spine. “I’m just sad, buddy.” Then she thought of Haley. Thousands of miles away from home. With no sympathetic little puppy there to dry her tears. “I screwed up, Delta,” she murmured. “I screwed this one up royally, and have no one to blame but my damn self.”

  ***

  Haley knew the islands were teeming with crew, but she had no idea where everyone was. It made sense that she and Chandler were staying close to the warehouse with all of the animals, but it made for a lonely existence.

  Chandler really was a prick, no doubt about it. She’d hoped she’d just caught him on a bad day, but that wasn’t the case. He was a whiny, short-tempered jerk who seemed perfectly suited to working with cold-blooded animals who couldn’t truly be trained.