Jane Bites Back

by Michael Thomas Ford

  She arrived back in her room at five minutes to one. Through the door she could hear the phone ringing. She went inside and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “It’s Kelly. I just wanted to make sure you’re almost ready. We’ll be downstairs in fifteen. As usual, Bryce is running late. He has to make himself pretty for Comfort and Joy. But we’ll be at the station in plenty of time. It’s not far away.”

  “Fine,” Jane said, keeping her voice as calm as possible. “That’s fine. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

  Hanging up, she emptied the contents of the shopping bag onto the bed and set to work. Getting the clothes on was easy enough, but doing her makeup was another matter. She’d left Lucy’s note in Sandra’s hands, and so she had to try to remember exactly what Lucy had said to do. Opening the eye shadow, she saw that the girl had chosen a peculiar shade of purple. When Jane dabbed some on her eyelid it gave her the appearance of having a bruise.

  She tried to ignore the color and applied it as well as she could. Then she added lipstick and blush to her face and sat back to look at the results.

  “I look as if I’ve been dragged backward through a hedge,” she muttered. But there was no helping it. She was due downstairs.

  As she put on her new shoes, she accidentally kicked one under the bed. Kneeling, she felt around for it. Her fingers closed on the heel almost immediately. Then, as she pulled the shoe out, she realized that there was something her fingers had not touched.

  Lifting the bedspread, she looked under the bed. Farrah’s body was gone.

  Chapter 24

  The cottage was small and plain, but it had a lovely garden and a pond. It would do very well. She imagined herself sitting in the small study, looking out at the flowers and writing for hours at a time. “With persistence and six months’ time,” she told herself, “you will complete your first novel.”

  —Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript

  “GIRL, WHAT DRAG QUEEN DID YOUR EYES?”

  Comfort took one look at Jane and hauled her away to her own dressing room. “Sit,” she said, practically pushing Jane into a salon chair. “Tomboy, where are you?” she bellowed.

  A moment later a tall Latino man ran in, drying his hands on a towel. “Settle down, woman,” he said. “I was spackling up Miss Joy. You know how long that takes.”

  He and Comfort cackled over the joke while Jane sat silently, looking at her peacocked eyes in the mirror. Kelly and Bryce had been kind in their compliments; she looked awful, like a prizefighter on the losing end of a punch.

  “Jane, this is Tomboy,” said Comfort. “He does our makeup, so you know he’s a genius. Tomboy, this is Miss Jane Fairfax.”

  “The Jane Fairfax?” Tomboy said, putting his hands on his hips.

  “I let him read your book,” Comfort told Jane. “Bitch still hasn’t given it back to me.”

  “And I’m not going to give it back,” said Tomboy. He put his hand on Jane’s shoulder. “I loved it,” he enthused.

  “Sweetheart, do something about Miss Jane’s face,” Comfort ordered. “Make her pretty like you do me and the gargoyle.”

  More cackling ensued, then Comfort strode out of the dressing room. Jane could hear her talking to Kelly and Bryce in the hallway. Her deep, rich voice was occasionally broken by laughter.

  “She seems nice,” Jane said as Tomboy draped a white cloth around her neck.

  “As nice as the other one is nasty,” said Tomboy. He picked up a cotton pad and dipped it in some cold cream. “Close your eyes,” he said.

  Jane did as she was told, and a moment later she felt cream being applied to her eyelids. Tomboy’s touch was gentle, and it relaxed her frayed nerves. “Is Joy really that bad?” she asked.

  Tomboy let out a low whistle. “Let’s just say her mama didn’t give her the right name,” he said. “Maybe if she’d waited until that girl was five or six she would have called her something like Crabapple. Isn’t there an actress just named her baby Apple?”

  “I think so,” Jane said, not knowing whether this was true or not. “Joy always seems so nice on the show.” This too was a lie. She’d only watched one episode, and that was to prepare her for her visit. But Joy had seemed, if not exactly joyful, at least pleasant.

  “They drug her up before the taping,” said Tomboy.

  “You’re joking,” Jane said.

  “Oh, nothing serious,” Tomboy replied as he wiped her eyelids with a warm cloth. “Just a couple of Valium. It keeps her from freaking out.”

  “I had no idea,” said Jane.

  “It’s for the good of the world,” Tomboy assured her. “Now look at me.”

  Jane stared into his eyes, which were a lovely dark brown. His face was only inches from hers. He reached out and suddenly she felt a sharp pain in the vicinity of her brow. “Ouch!”

  “Just tweezing these caterpillars,” said Tomboy. He plucked another hair, then another. Jane tried not to wince. When he finally stopped she found that she had been clutching the chair arms in a death grip. This in turn reminded her of Farrah’s missing body, and she became anxious all over again.

  “Close your eyes,” Tomboy said.

  Jane felt something—presumably eye shadow—being applied to her lids. She wondered what color it was, although anything would be better than the purple she’d smeared on.

  “I really did love your book,” Tomboy said as he continued to work. “It’s so much better than most of the stuff out there. The characters seem like people you can actually believe exist, not like soap opera actors. It reminded me of Jane Austen.”

  “Austen,” said Jane. “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Tomboy murmured. He was running what felt like a pencil along her lower lid. “She’s my favorite. I must have read Mansfield Park at least a dozen times.”

  “Mansfield Park? Really?” Jane was surprised. It was her own favorite out of all her books, but she was used to people disliking it. “Not Pride and Prejudice?“

  “Oh, I like that one too,” said Tomboy. “But Mansfield Park has more, I don’t know, depth to it. Fanny’s a real person, you know? She basically can’t do anything right. Your novel kind of reminds me of that.”

  He stepped back and looked at his handiwork. After applying a few more touches and adding some blush he said, “Take a look and see what you think.”

  Jane was amazed. Tomboy had transformed her face. Instead of looking tired and stressed out, she looked fresh and alive. “I can’t believe that’s me,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Tomboy smiled. “My pleasure,” he said. “Now go out there and knock them dead.”

  As if on cue, Comfort walked in, took a look at Jane, and clucked her tongue. “He went all out on you, girl,” she told Jane. “I don’t know if I like you showing me up like this.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Jane told her. “But thank you.”

  “Come on,” Comfort said, taking Jane’s hand. “Time to introduce you to the dragon lady.” She led Jane down the hallway to another dressing room. Joy was in there, speaking to a rabbity-looking young man who was writing on a pad as Joy spoke.

  “And six bottles of gin,” Joy said. “But not that crap you got last time. Now go.”

  The assistant ran out as Joy turned to see who had come in. When she saw Comfort and Jane, she beamed. “Hello,” she cooed as she stood and embraced Jane. “I’m soooo pleased you could come.”

  “Thank you for inviting me,” said Jane. Joy was looking directly at her. Jane looked back. There was something odd about Joy’s eyes. They looked slightly dull. Then Jane remembered the Valium.

  “This is going to be soooo much fun,” Joy said. “Isn’t it, Comfort?”

  “Of course it is,” Comfort said cheerfully. “Jane, let me show you to the greenroom. Joy, I’ll see you in a minute.”

  “Bye,” Jane called over her shoulder as Comfort hustled her out.

  “Lord have mercy,” said Comfort. “That girl is mellower than a houn
d dog on a front porch on a warm day in July. Thank God. All I need is for her to freak out during the cooking segment.”

  “Cooking segment?” Jane asked. She’d thought she was the only guest.

  “Quick and easy quesadillas,” Comfort replied as they walked. “It’s only ten minutes, but sometimes Joy gets spooked when fire is involved. Anyway, our first guest is this family who collected five thousand dollars just by picking up spare change for a year. Between you and me, I think they looted a couple of wishing fountains, but the kids are cute and it makes the audience feel good. Then you’ll be on for the main part of the show, and we’ll finish up with the quesadillas.”

  They arrived at the greenroom. “I’ve got to go get ready,” Comfort said. “You wait here and someone will come get you when it’s your turn. You can watch the show on the monitor if you want to.”

  Jane opened the door to the greenroom. Kelly and Bryce were there, along with a family of five who Jane assumed were the change collectors. Seeing her, Kelly leapt up. “There you are,” he said. His tone suggested that he’d had more than enough of the thrifty family, all of whom stared at Jane with broad smiles on their faces.

  “I’m Tammy Tucker,” the mother of the family said, waving. “This is my husband, Ted, and these are our children. Tracy and Tina are the twins, and this is Ted junior.” All three children waved at Jane in unison.

  “Hello,” said Jane.

  “Do you want to see my change jar?” One of the girls (she couldn’t tell which) came up to her holding out a plain glass jar filled with coins. “There’s over two hundred dollars in here!” she said proudly.

  “Well,” Jane said. “Isn’t that wonderful!”

  “Tina, don’t bother the nice lady writer,” said Tammy. “Let Mommy fix your hair. We’re going to go on soon.”

  Leaving Tammy to ready her family, Jane and Kelly joined Bryce, who was standing at the back of the room studiously looking over a table heaped with food. “Are they gone?” he whispered.

  “No,” Kelly replied. “But almost.” He turned to Jane. “They showed us the funnel they use for filling coin wrappers,” he said.

  “I just couldn’t take it,” Bryce said. “If that kid said ‘Canadian pennies aren’t real money’ one more time, I was going to slap him.”

  Kelly picked up a bagel. “Do you want something?” he asked Jane.

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t think I should,” she said. Her stomach had already been in knots because of the Farrah problem. Now she could feel it starting to cramp. Oh, no, she thought as she realized what it meant. Not only was she nervous, she was going to need to feed soon. All of the anxiety and rushing around had used up her energy. She found herself looking at the three Tucker children. Surely they wouldn’t miss one, she thought.

  Fortunately for the twins and their brother, a show staffer arrived to take them to the set. When the door was shut again, Bryce returned to the seating area. “What a horror show,” he announced. “How much money did they say they’d ‘found’ last year?” He used his fingers to indicate his doubt as to the Tuckers’ claim.

  “Five thousand, I think,” Jane said.

  Bryce counted on his fingers. “That’s like fourteen bucks a day,” he said. “Unless those kids are turning tricks at a truck stop, I don’t buy it.”

  “Stop it,” said Kelly, laughing. “Maybe they’re just savants. Instead of playing the cello they can spot loose change.”

  Jane joined them, seating herself in a chair. She tried to ignore the gnawing sensation that was quickly taking over her stomach. Just make it through the show, she told herself.

  A few minutes later the show began. Jane could hear the audience through the walls, and she could watch it on the monitor. First Comfort and Joy came on and engaged in some banter. This was followed by a commercial, and then the Tucker family was on. Jane tuned them out. Her stomach hurt, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Farrah’s missing body. More and more, she was sure that Byron was behind it.

  “Jane?” A voice woke her from her thoughts. The same fellow who had come for the Tuckers was motioning for her to come with him. Jane stood up.

  “Break a leg,” Kelly said, squeezing her hand. “You’ll be great.”

  Jane followed the staffer down the hall. As they turned a corner they ran into the Tuckers being escorted back to the greenroom by someone else. “Are we famous now, Daddy?” Ted junior asked his father as Jane passed them.

  “We’re at commercial,” the young man told Jane as he led her onto the set. “We’ll be live in ninety seconds.”

  The Comfort and Joy set was decorated to look like a living room. The two hosts sat on a couch, while their guests sat in the armchairs positioned across an oval coffee table. Jane was put into one of the chairs and someone came from behind and attached a microphone to her blouse.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” Joy, who was closest to Jane, said. Jane looked at Comfort, who rolled her eyes in sympathy.

  “And we’re on in five … four … three …” Somewhere to Jane’s right someone counted down to the return of the show.

  “As y’all know, I’m a readin’ fool,” Comfort announced. Applause erupted from the audience, but Jane was confused. Comfort sounded like another person, as if she were playing a character.

  “Today it is my pleasure to introduce you to Jane Fairfax,” Comfort continued. “Jane’s book is called Constance. Now, I don’t want to say this book is better than getting some lovin’ from my man, but I was up all night and my husband was asleep next to me.”

  The audience roared its approval. Comfort’s voice was getting on Jane’s nerves. Worse, her ears were beginning to ring and she felt herself begin to sweat.

  “Comfort, I have to agree with you.” Now Joy was talking. Her voice was almost monotone, robotic and distant. “I think this book is maaaarvelous.”

  “Jane, tell us how you came up with the idea for this novel,” Comfort said.

  A camera swung toward Jane and she looked right into its blinking red eye. A production assistant motioned soundlessly for her to look at Comfort and Joy instead. Jane turned her head and looked at Comfort’s smiling face.

  She started speaking, but she didn’t hear what she was saying. Her words sounded like the mumbled ramblings of someone speaking through a pillow. She found herself staring at Joy’s head. It was bobbing up and down as Joy apparently agreed with whatever Jane was saying. Jane saw Comfort’s mouth open and close as she asked a question, and she heard what sounded like the buzzing of bees as she answered. She heard herself laugh, and in the distance the audience laughed back. She had no idea what she’d said. Don’t forget to smile, she told herself, and pulled her lips back in what she hoped looked like confident enjoyment.

  A bead of sweat ran down her back. Why was she so hot? A change in the light caught her eye, and she realized that she was sitting directly under the studio lights. Brighter than normal, they were also hotter, and her sensitive skin was reacting badly to the increased temperature. Already her hands were reddening, and she knew the rest of her would soon follow suit. She put her hands in her lap, trying to cover one with the other to slow the burning.

  When finally they came to a commercial break, Jane waited for the all-clear from the stage manager and stood up. Joy remained seated while an assistant fixed her makeup, but Comfort stood up and came over to Jane.

  “You’re doing great, sweetie,” she said. “I apologize for the down-home bullshit. The audience loves it.” She glanced over at Joy. “At least that one isn’t slurring her words today. I count my blessings. Now look, when we come back we’ll wrap this up, I’ll announce that everyone is getting a copy of the book, and you can get out of this freak show.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Jane said. “I’m having fun.”

  “I’m glad one of us is,” said Comfort. “Now sit down. We’re on again in ten.”

  The second half of the interview went smoothly, at least as far as Jane could tell. The heat f
rom the lights was really starting to bother her. Her skin was itching and she felt as if her makeup had hardened into a mask. When Comfort announced that everyone was getting a copy of Jane’s novel, Jane feigned surprise and beamed at the audience. It’s over, she told herself. Then she heard Joy speak.

  “When we come back, chef Juan Fernandez will be showing us how to make quesadillas!” she shrieked. “Jane, why don’t you stick around and help us out with that?”

  “Well,” Jane began. “I really ought—”

  “Don’t you want Jane to stick around?” Joy shouted at the audience. “Wouldn’t that be greeeat?” They responded by screaming back.

  “I suppose I could,” said Jane weakly.

  “All right, then!” Joy said. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  The show went to a break and the stagehands rushed the stage. Jane jumped up as someone whisked away her chair and another rolled a makeshift kitchen onstage. Someone put an apron around Jane’s neck and tied it in the back, and then she was shaking hands with a cranky-looking man in chef’s whites. That would be Juan, she thought as the man inspected the ingredients that had been laid out on the counter.

  “What do I do?” Jane asked him.

  “Stay out of the way, and when I tell you to, sprinkle cheese on the goddamn quesadilla,” Juan said, his voice heavy with irritation.

  Jane huddled beside Comfort, who stood on Juan’s left while Joy stood on his right. “Showtime,” Comfort said as the stage manager once more counted down from the break.

  Jane’s head felt as if it were on fire. Her scalp burned, and she feared that at any second her hair might burst into flame. She tried to look interested as Chef Juan explained the finer points of making a quesadilla, but she really had no idea what was happening. The various smells coming from the bowls on the counter were combining in her nose, making her ill. She felt like she might retch.

  Then she heard a muted cry of pain and smelled something sharp and metallic. She looked over and saw that Joy, who had been slicing a tomato, had managed to cut her finger. A few drops of blood speckled the counter, and more was seeping from the wound on Joy’s hand.