Heartland

by Davis Bunn

  “Amen!” There was no telling how many people responded. Or how long they applauded. Before JayJay could head back for his chair, the mayor and the pastor walked up and pounded him on the back and shook his hand. Said things that were lost to the clamor. Then they walked back and seated themselves. Leaving him where he was.

  When he turned back around, he spied another man in a suit standing up near the front. JayJay recognized one of the bit players brought in for the scene. Only his lines had effectively been stolen by the real developer. He was midway into turning toward the crowd when a woman shouted, “Mister, don’t you dare!”

  Chapter 34

  Kelly was there at the edge of the crowd who had clambered up onto the stage. JayJay had no idea if Britt was still filming. He no longer cared. They had worked through two more takes, when the crowd had basically declared they were done. Afterward JayJay shook hands and smiled at words he could not hear.

  Kelly still wore the strained expression as she pointed him toward the room behind the stage.

  He worked his way through the mass as quickly as he could. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, only that he was going to give it his best. But when he made it into the back room, she gave him a look strong as two hands pushing against his chest. Telling him an approach even in words was most definitely not welcome.

  The back room was almost as full as out front. The officials were eager to draw JayJay into their chatter. He was polite but firm, telling them he needed to go do something else now. Finally he managed to draw Kelly to one side.

  She told him, “That was real nice, what you said out there.”

  “I meant it.”

  “I could tell. So could a lot of others.” She turned him so his back was to the room and whoever was approaching. “This isn’t the right time. But I want to say I’m sorry for not getting in touch while I was back home.”

  “No. It was me. I acted like a purebred fool back before you left. That ride, up through the hills that day, well, I don’t have any more answers now than when I went out. But I guess maybe I’ve gotten to where I can live with not knowing.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She looked so sad JayJay blurted it out right there, surrounded by a roomful of strangers. “Lady, have I blown what chance I ever had with you?”

  Kelly bit her lip, hesitated, then said, “I need to ask a favor.”

  “If it’ll put me back in your good graces, you got yourself a deal.”

  She pointed toward the door. “I need you to come have a word with somebody.”

  The crowd filling the street applauded as he accompanied Kelly down the back stairs. He didn’t want to be impolite, but he wasn’t interested in anything right then but following this lady through a lingering sunset. Then the diminutive AD arrived at his side. “Britt wants—”

  “Not now,” JayJay said.

  “JayJay, the director wants to speak—”

  JayJay gave him a ten-second blast from beneath his brows. Enough to stop the next tirade dead in its tracks. “Tomorrow.”

  He followed Kelly into the Main Street Diner. The two back booths had been reserved by a rope tied across the narrow passage. A woman waited in the rear booth. There was no question who she was. Long before Kelly slid in beside the woman who shared her looks and her stature, JayJay knew.

  “John Junior, this is my mother, Edith Channing.”

  “How do, Mrs. Channing.”

  “Thank you for asking, Mr. Junior.” She managed to turn the booth into her personal throne. She was not haughty so much as naturally dignified. And cold. She froze the air between them. “Please, won’t you have a seat.”

  The waitress appeared at JayJay’s elbow and said, “You look like a man in need of a slice of coconut cream pie.”

  “Coffee will do me good, thank you, ma’am.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Kelly said.

  Edith Channing said, “Nothing more for me, thank you kindly.”

  The waitress returned instantly with mugs and a pot. She said as she poured, “I stepped outside and listened to what you had to say. Wish it’d come long before now. But it got said and folks listened. I reckon that’s the most important thing.” She gave a friendly nod. “I’ll make sure nobody disturbs you folks.”

  “I had the opportunity to hear you as well, Mr. Junior.” Kelly’s mother wore a short-sleeved sweater set of summer-weight cashmere and a thin string of pearls. Every inch a lady. “You certainly can act up a storm.”

  JayJay sipped his coffee. “From where I’m sitting, I’m not certain that’s a compliment in your book, ma’am.”

  “I’m curious, Mr. Junior. How much of what you said tonight was your own?”

  “A few of the words there at the end, is all. Mostly I just gave another man’s work the best I could.”

  “How interesting. You asked how I was. The answer is, concerned. My husband and I are very concerned about our daughter. Concerned enough that I would leave my mother-in-law’s bedside to come down and see things for myself.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear about the lady’s distress, ma’am.”

  “Thank you for the kind sentiment.” She spoke with the silky musicality of the Deep South, but there was no mistaking the frigid edge. “Kelly is our only child, Mr. Junior. And I must explain to you why we are so concerned. You see, my daughter lives for her obsessions. She is now obsessed with this acting business. And it appears she is becoming obsessed with you as well.”

  JayJay’s first response to the news was to leap from the booth and do a jig right through the diner. But there was no room in Mrs. Channing’s frigid attitude for joy. Or even a grin of relief.

  “My daughter’s last male obsession broke her heart and almost destroyed her. I assume she has shared with you the episode that took her to Hollywood?”

  “The friend whose role she took in the TV drama,” JayJay offered.

  “How remarkable. You listen and you remember. Yes, Mr. Junior. The reason Kelly did not notice her friend had gone months without calling was because her life had been shattered by this last male obsession. He was a horrid man. He devoured what he wished of her and left her a hollow gourd.”

  “Point him out,” JayJay said. “I’ll shoot him for you.”

  “That will not be necessary, Mr. Junior.”

  “I’d be grateful if you’d call me JayJay, ma’am.”

  “It would be a waste of a perfectly good bullet, Mr. Junior. The man is gone. The damage is done. My task as Kelly’s mother is to make sure it does not happen again.”

  “Don’t mind Momma,” Kelly said softly. “Southern ladies are brought up to mistake character assassination as polite conversation.”

  Mrs. Channing chose to ignore her daughter’s words. “When my husband heard Kelly intended to tarry in California and continue with this vile craft, he offered her three bits of advice. I made do with just one, Mr. Junior. ‘Do not,’ I told my only daughter, ‘do not under any circumstances fall in love with anyone in this trade.’ Do you know why I said what I did?”

  “Probably because you’re a very smart lady.”

  “How kind of you to say so. I told my daughter that because such people are paid to lie. They are paid to exhibit emotions that are not their own. They make believe all day and all night. They feign interest.

  They live a constant myth of their own making. How is it possible to lie for a profession, and then be real at night?”

  JayJay could only say, “Whatever real I’ve got inside me, Mrs. Channing, it’s Kelly’s. If she wants it.”

  “The words are nice, Mr. Junior. But I must question the sentiment. Which brings us to my purpose for coming here. One question, two parts. Are you the least bit genuine? And are your affections for my daughter something she can count upon? I must ask you this because it appears my daughter has chosen to ignore my one piece of advice.”

  “Ma’am, Mrs. Channing . . .” JayJay looked from mother to daughter. “I would never mean your daug
hter harm of any kind.”

  “Work with me, sir. Why is it, then, that my daughter burst into tears the first two times she spoke your name?”

  “Because the days before she left I was acting like a fool,” JayJay said. “Because I wanted answers to all life’s questions, and I let my head get in the way of listening to my heart. Which was telling me . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Telling me your daughter is the finest thing that’s ever happened to me in all my born days.”

  Edith Channing disliked his answer. He could tell that. And Kelly did not look his way at all. “Well, you can most certainly act. We’ve all seen that talent on display tonight. Let me out, daughter.”

  JayJay rose with her. “I’d just like to say again how sorry I am about the problems y’all are having with your husband’s mother, Mrs. Channing.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Junior.” She took a two-handed grip on her purse, and punched him with her eyes and her words both. “I fell in love with my husband because he was more than I could ever aspire to become. My daughter deserves the same. I wish . . .”

  “Momma,” Kelly said quietly.

  Her mother looked down at Kelly, who continued to stare at the linoleum tabletop. She sighed. Once. “I should not have come.”

  Kelly did not respond.

  “Walk me to the car, daughter. Good evening, Mr. Junior. I wish I could say this has been a pleasure.”

  Morning sun filled his room with what should have been a cheery light when he placed the call. “Floyd, it’s JayJay. Ahn gave me your number. I hope it’s all right—”

  The pastor’s voice shone with pleasure. “It’s great to hear from you, is what it is. How are you, brother?”

  The prayer group was over and most everyone had left for the day.

  Hotel cleaning staff clattered down the hall outside his room. He sat on the floor and leaned his back against one of the beds. “Sore. Feel like I been kicked by a mule, but I doubt Kelly would like to hear me talk about her mother like that.”

  “Kelly, now, this is the lovely lady someone pointed out to me at the ranch?”

  “Kelly Channing.”

  “Hold on just one second.” There was a rustling on the other end of the phone. Then, “All right. The world is on hold over here. Why don’t you tell me about it.”

  So he did. From when Floyd had left. Right through his funk, his ride in the hills, his decision, and Kelly’s departure. Finishing with the previous evening’s conversation.

  “Where is she now?”

  “Who, the mother or the daughter?”

  “I assume the mother’s gone back to tending her sick relative, now that she’s sunk her fangs in good.”

  “That’s not exactly what I’d expect to hear from a pastor. Especially not when everything the mother said was right on target.” When the pastor remained silent, JayJay finished, “Kelly is out at the fairgrounds. Which is another problem.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Oh, some group that brings fun rides and such to country fairs is here putting up their gear. The towns around here are turning my act last night into a reason for a big shindig tomorrow.”

  “Let’s pare that comment of yours down into segments. First of all, from what I hear it wasn’t an act.”

  “You already knew about my talk?”

  “I got a call from a pastor friend who was there for the show. But let’s hold that thought in abeyance. Why is it a problem that Kelly’s gone to the fair?”

  “I let slip that the lady’s got a voice. She’s gonna sing for the camera tomorrow night.”

  “She’s an actress, and she’s got a voice. Where’s the problem? No, never mind. Son, I’ve been in the pastoring business for almost twenty years. And one thing I learned early on is this. When it comes to folks having problems with love, you can get yourself so tangled up you’ll never see daylight again. So let’s forget about Kelly’s voice and focus on the real issue here. And it ain’t Kelly’s mother either. All she did was poke a raw nerve.”

  “More like sawed it in half.”

  “The first time you and I spoke, you went on about how you don’t have a past to speak of. How everything in your early life was a lie.”

  “That’s not exactly it. I don’t—”

  “Now just hold on. You been churched enough to know you don’t choke a pastor off in midstride. They turn puce and can’t breathe proper. What I just said is close enough to the truth for us right now, JayJay. Now I want to tell you about another no-’count ranch hand. His daddy lost some mules one day and sent his son, whose name was Saul, by the way, he sent Saul off hunting. After he and a servant had been looking a while, Saul came upon this prophet by the name of Samuel. And Samuel told him, I hope you’re listening good now, because this is important. Samuel told him, ‘Then the Spirit of the Lord will come upon you, and you will prophesy with them and be turned into another man.’”

  “I believe I heard that story before,” JayJay countered. “About this feller who becomes king and gets himself doomed in the process.”

  “On account of how he doesn’t listen to God once he gets there. Like a certain feller who won’t let the preacher finish.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “All right, I will. Samuel then says, pay attention now, ‘And let it be, when these signs come to you, that you do as the occasion demands; for God is with you.’ Long as Saul followed those orders, he stayed in good shape. His downfall came when he got too big for his britches. Pride and wrongheaded arrogance was Saul’s weakness. What is yours?”

  When JayJay did not respond, the pastor went on, “It ain’t pride, son, it’s self-doubt. You don’t want to believe God can use you. I don’t know what you got in your background. And this morning’s not the time for us to work through all that. What you need to remember, whether it’s affairs of the heart or affairs of the saddle, it’s all the same. God has decided to use you. Don’t let your weakness be an excuse to turn away.”

  JayJay complained, but his heart wasn’t really in it any longer. “I thought we were talking about Kelly and me.”

  “We are, if you’d have half a mind to hear what I’m saying. Now the reason I told you about Saul was because of what happened next, and when I finish this time I’m done. The next day Saul met up with some other prophets. Just like Samuel said, the Spirit came into him, and he joined up with them. Folks who saw him asked, ‘Who’s that guy there? He ain’t no prophet, he’s just the son of that no-’count rancher.’ And another man answered this way. He pointed at the prophets dancing alongside Saul and said, ‘But who is their father? What makes them so special?’ You see where I’m going with this? Almost everyone’s past holds shadows, son. Everybody carries a stain. Kelly’s mother is right about you only if you let her. Okay, yes, Hollywood’s got more than its share of liars and cheats. But the same could be said of a lot of places and a lot of trades. What we’re concerned with is you.”

  Chapter 35

  Martin Allerby sat in the screening room. One lamp glowed on the table next to his podium. Otherwise the room was dark. Martin had broken one of his own rules and brought along his cigarillos. He hated smoke in a screening. The first inspection of a film crew’s work deserved conditions untainted by shades filtering the colors. But today he needed the crutch.

  The phone by his elbow lit up, and the projectionist said over the speaker, “You wanted to be notified when Mr. Keplar’s car arrived at the gates, Mr. Allerby.”

  “Have him sent straight down. Ask Gloria to bring another thermos of coffee, a cup for Milo, and a fresh one for me.”

  Martin was tired. Keeping his calm mask in place was proving an almost impossible burden. Every morning he drove his Volkswagen Touareg through the company gates. He attended to the business of running a studio. He had lunch. He negotiated deals. He drove to whatever dinner or cocktail hour he had penciled in for that evening. He felt eyes upon him all the time. Whether the attention was real or just paranoia at work did
not matter. He could not afford to be seen as doing anything other than what was totally normal for the CEO of a studio in the business of making quality television. He was not supposed to know anything about a deal brewing. The deal that just might catapult him into the stratosphere of Hollywood stardom.

  Milo arrived with Gloria. He settled into the sofa next to Martin and let Gloria pour him a cup. Milo said nothing until the door sighed shut behind her. “I had to cancel a meeting with the exec VP of Paramount.”

  “This could be important.”

  “It better be.”

  “Britt Turner ordered our best digital film editor to drop everything, load all her gear in her SUV, and drive to Salton City.”

  “You approved this?”

  “He made his call on Saturday morning. Got the lady out of bed. Told her she could write her own ticket. But she had to move immediately.”

  Milo masked his whispered words with a noisy slurp. “Think he suspects?”

  Martin continued his conversational monotone. As though to release any worry, any steam at all, would have resulted in an eruption that might well level the office building. “I called him Monday morning, as soon as I learned about it. I explained that the studio had a policy of all editing taking place in-house. Britt made a good case for his move. They are six days ahead of schedule.”

  “That’s impossible. They haven’t been up there—”

  “Six days,” Martin calmly repeated. “They are shooting at almost double the intended rate. They are moving so fast they are outstripping the set designer’s ability to get things ready. Using digital means he can check takes on the monitor soon as they are shot. According to Britt, they have not needed more than five takes for any shot all last week. So Britt wanted to take a day with Derek and the film editor and run through what had been done so far.”

  “Derek? Oh. Right. The new camera guy.”

  “According to my source on the shoot, Derek Steen is proving to be remarkably adept at bringing the most out of digital filmwork. This has been confirmed in the one report I have received from our editor.”