A Star is Dead

by Elaine Viets

  ‘No. I have season tickets but I gave this one away. I’d prefer to remember Jessica as she was in the sixties – young, vibrant and full of life.’

  ‘You talk about her as if she’s dead,’ I said.

  ‘She is. At least, the Jessica I admired is dead. I don’t like this new incarnation. She’s a scrawny old woman now, peddling that face junk. Kale, for heaven’s sake! And her so-called comedy show is mean-spirited.’

  She took a decisive crunch of her cookie, and a long drink of her coffee.

  ‘I guess I’ll have to go to the after-party,’ Clare said, ‘after I made such a fuss.’

  ‘Mario, my hairdresser, wants me to go to the show with him, and the party at Reggie’s afterward,’ I said. ‘I’m dreading it.’

  ‘You should go, dear,’ Clare said. ‘It’s a Forest occasion, our turn in the limelight. Don’t miss it.’

  THREE

  The local media fawned all over Jessica Gray. She gave facials with her Captivating Youth Mask to all the major news anchors – on the morning show, the noon show, and the five and six o’clock news. The cameras took tight shots of the city’s TV celebrities covered with green goo, then celebrated their ‘amazing transformations.’

  They looked the same to me, but I didn’t want to sound like sour grapes. Or kale.

  A radio shock jock drank the Captivating Youth Solution on air and made gagging noises. ‘Tastes like lawn clippings!’ he said.

  ‘Well, you’re acting younger already,’ Jessica said. The sharpness in her voice subdued the jock.

  ‘I’m sure it’s good for me,’ the jock said. ‘Does it go well with leftover pizza?’

  ‘And stale jokes,’ Jessica said.

  The interview was quickly back on track and Jessica wound up giving an infomercial on the city’s most popular morning show for millennials.

  The local paper, the St Louis City Gazette, had a full-page feature, even quoting a St Louis dermatologist who declared that Jessica’s potions were ‘all-natural.’ That was definitely true. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say that the products would make anyone look younger. But her show at the Lux Theater, ‘Just Jessica’, got rave reviews, and the final sold-out show this Saturday night promised the city a ‘special event.’

  I hadn’t seen Mario, my hairstylist, since Jessica flew into town, so I was eager for the details of his triumph. I met him for an early dinner at Gringo Daze, the Forest’s most popular Mexican restaurant. Actually, its only Mexican restaurant, but the food was superb.

  We had a corner booth, and piled our coats on a chair. The restaurant was nearly empty at four-thirty, so Mario could dish. The server, a handsome twenty-something whose name tag said he was Glenn, couldn’t keep his eyes off Mario. I couldn’t blame the lad. Black-haired, dark-eyed Mario was a stunning man, who turned the heads of both sexes. Tonight he looked like a Spanish gunfighter in black Gucci and a heavy silver belt. Glenn the server took our order – chicken fajitas and white wine for both of us – and left.

  ‘I have something for you.’ Mario gave me an elegant glossy green bag filled with jars and bottles. ‘Jessica’s products.’ He said the two words reverently, and presented them to me like a cat proudly giving me a dead bird. I had to hide my surprise. Mario was too sophisticated to be sucked in by Jessica’s over-priced green glop. His regard for her had overruled his normal good taste.

  One jar, a pretty swirl of frosted glass, was the Captivating Youth Mask. A tall glass bottle held Captivating Finishing Spray. ‘You put that on after your make-up,’ Mario said. The third bottle was the Captivating Youth Drink. ‘Mix that with spring water,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you.’ I tucked the bag next to my purse. ‘Now, spill.’

  ‘Everyone is so nice,’ Mario said. He always started like this, whether they were nice or not. Then he’d get down to the real information. A Mariel Boatlift refugee, Mario had a slight Cuban accent, which grew thicker when he was under stress. Right now, he was relaxed.

  ‘How many people does Jessica travel with?’ I asked.

  ‘Only three. Tawnee Simms, her understudy and dresser. Her assistant, Stu Milano. Her make-up artist, Will London – he’s very sweet.’

  Hm. Mario usually said that when he was attracted to a man. I kept quiet. He’d tell me sooner or later if he was having a fling with Will.

  ‘Tawnee sounds vaguely familiar,’ I said.

  ‘She is,’ Mario said. ‘She had a chance at stardom back in the sixties, but it didn’t work out. It probably never would have. She doesn’t have Jessica’s magnetism.’

  The waiter brought our wine. I waited for him to leave, then said, ‘OK, Mario, what’s Jessica really like? And don’t tell me she’s “nice.” She’s anything but.’

  ‘No, she is nice. Very nice. And it’s an honor to work with her. I’m lucky – I got the job through a friend of a friend.’

  ‘Come off it, Mario. You’re internationally known. Lots of major celebs have you do their hair when they’re in town. You’ve flown to New York, Paris, and Brazil for jobs.’

  ‘True,’ Mario said. ‘But I live here in the flyover, the Midwest. That’s not good for my cachet.’

  Sad but true. Both coasts thought we in Middle America lost twenty IQ points simply by living here.

  ‘So what’s really happening?’

  Mario was dying to tell me. I could sense it. He looked around the restaurant, and confirmed no one was within earshot, not even the dazzled server Glenn.

  ‘I had to sign a nondisclosure agreement,’ he said. ‘But I know you never talk.’

  I nodded, confirming my silence.

  ‘Jessica depends on her make-up artist, Will. He’s the best. Maybe even better than me.’

  Will must be fantastic. Mario would never admit to anyone but me that someone else’s skills were superior to his. I kept my silence, which encouraged him to continue.

  ‘And Jessica has had plastic surgery.’

  ‘You’re joking! That’s her whole campaign, that she’s naturally beautiful.’

  ‘Sh! Keep your voice down.’ He looked alarmed, though there was no one around.

  ‘Jessica is beautiful,’ Mario said. ‘And she believes she’s never had plastic surgery. She told me so. But I saw the scars – and felt them – when I washed her hair.’

  He shut up abruptly and Glenn delivered our drinks, a basket of tortillas, and bowls of salsa, guacamole and sour cream for our fajitas. ‘I brought you extra tortillas,’ he said to Mario, who smiled at him. I waited for the server to leave, then asked, ‘What did you do when you found out she’d had a facelift, Mario?’

  ‘Pretended she was telling the truth.’

  ‘You said she believes she’s never had plastic surgery. How can she believe that?’

  ‘I think she’s said she hasn’t had surgery so many times, she does believe it,’ Mario said.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘That’s how I treat all my clients – as if they’re always telling the truth. Jessica has had very artful nips and tucks. I’d like to know the name of her doctor, but of course, I can’t ask.’

  ‘What about that hair? That thick blond mane can’t be all hers.’

  ‘It’s not,’ he said. ‘It’s a hairpiece and extensions. Her own hair is very thin.’

  ‘But you can’t say that, either.’

  ‘Why would I? I made it look as natural as possible. She has a very good hairpiece. The best.’

  Glenn the server was back with two sizzling platters of fajitas. Mario and I carefully built our fajitas. I spread my tortilla with dabs of sour cream and guacamole, then just enough chicken, onions and peppers so my dinner wouldn’t spill into my lap. I took a bite. Delicious, as always. Mario and I ate in silence. While we were preparing the second round, I asked him, ‘What happened while you worked on her hair?’

  ‘She kept quiet, and sipped water through a straw. When I finished, Jessica said she was pleased with my work. Tawnee came in to help her finish getting dressed. I staye
d backstage, talking with Will. He told me he wants to have his own line of cosmetics and to open a salon in Bel Air. He asked me how I did it, how I ran my salon.’

  Mario seemed proud to give Will advice.

  ‘Bel Air? That’s going to be expensive – and there will be lots of competition.’

  ‘Yes, but Jessica is talking about backing him. He’ll either have to hire a manager or close the salon when he travels with her.’

  ‘Sounds like he has his future planned out.’

  ‘He does. Life on the road is hard, and he misses California. Then Stu came back and asked me to do a favor for Jessica.’

  ‘What kind of favor?’

  ‘She needed some Percocet and Xanax, and I had both with me.’

  ‘Mario! You didn’t!’

  ‘Who’s going to know?’ He tried to look innocent. He was an American citizen, but a Cuban-American would be suspect if Jessica’s drug use was investigated.

  ‘What if something happens to Jessica?’ I asked.

  ‘It won’t. You worry too much. She needed to relax, because people are so mean to her.’

  I thought Jessica was pretty nasty herself, but said nothing.

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘Jessica was ready. Will touched up her make-up and I sprayed her hair once more, and she went on-stage, where she was a huge success. Three standing ovations after the show! While she did her routine, I got a chance to have a drink with Will.’

  His voice seemed to soften slightly at the mention of Will, but that could have been my imagination.

  ‘What’s Will like?’

  ‘Very sweet,’ Mario said.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘He’s an artist, and we talked about make-up tips. He believes in bringing out a woman’s natural beauty. Jessica has gorgeous brown eyes and he emphasizes them.’

  ‘What color are Will’s eyes?’

  ‘Also brown. He has a terrific body and very thick red hair. But he’s so smart, Angela. It’s fun talking to another professional. And when Tawnee and Stu were around, we were perfectly professional.’

  ‘I’m sure you were.’

  ‘Stu used to be a magician. He still does magic tricks all the time, and makes things disappear. He disappeared two of my brushes.’

  ‘That sounds annoying.’

  ‘No, they reappeared just before I needed them. He seemed to sense exactly when I would. His timing is perfect.’

  ‘What happened to Stu’s magic career?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Mario shrugged. ‘Maybe he wasn’t very good. Stu says he’s lucky now that he can work with Jessica. It’s his way of staying in show business.’

  ‘I’d find it painful to be on the edge of someone else’s success,’ I said.

  ‘Stu seems happy enough,’ Mario said. ‘Jessica pays well. He says he’s saving money for another show in Vegas – a comeback – and Jessica will help him.’

  Glenn returned and took our plates. ‘May I get you another drink?’ the server asked. ‘Some dessert? Our flan is good.’

  ‘I know.’ I smiled at the server. ‘But not tonight, thanks. You’ve fed us too well. Just the check.’

  Mario nodded, and grabbed the check when Glenn put it on our table. ‘This is on me,’ he said. ‘I want to have a cigarette before we leave for the theater. Jessica made Stu, Will, and Tawnee stop smoking and switch to e-cigarettes. She said their cigarette smoke bothered her.’

  ‘What if they smoked cigarettes outside, like you do?’ I asked.

  ‘She says she can still smell it on their hair and clothes, and it would get into her clothes. She’s right, of course. They’re all forbidden to smoke.’

  ‘But she doesn’t mind you smoking?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘I try not to smoke around her assistants. That would be cruel. They really miss cigarettes – they all smoked at least two packs a day – but they want to keep their jobs. She says vaping is healthier. Maybe it is, but she’s never had to deal with smoker’s cravings.’

  We were in the restaurant parking lot now. ‘Since I’m not allowed to smoke around Jessica, this is my last chance.’ Mario brought out his cigarettes and fired up, nearly frantic for a nicotine fix. It was two degrees, way too cold for me.

  ‘I’ll wait in the car. We’ve got time before the show,’ I said.

  ‘I hope there is a show,’ he said. ‘Jessica has a terrible cold. Last night she was coughing and feverish. She could hardly stand up, but she went out and gave a brilliant performance.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll cancel tonight?’ I said.

  ‘If she’s feeling as bad as she did last night, she should. But she won’t. Jessica is determined. Nothing stops her once she’s made up her mind.’

  FOUR

  The Lux Theater’s official name is the Fabulous Lux, and that isn’t hype. The theater, a twenties’ fantasia of red and gold twisted pillars, roaring lions and fantastic light fixtures, lives up to its name.

  That’s why Jessica’s ‘surprise’ for the city the last night of her run was such a shock. No, not a shock. An extended middle finger.

  All the Forest’s movers and shakers were there, and most had Lux Club luxury boxes. They had their own reserved parking lot, a private entrance, a private place where they could eat and drink before, during and after the show. They also had private bathrooms. Lux Club members did not have to pee with the peasants, even though those bathrooms were pretty swanky, too.

  All this privilege didn’t come cheap. An eight-seat luxury box was $64,750 – and they were sold out. With a wait list.

  I waited in the theater while Mario went backstage. I never tired of wandering around the Lux. Each time I went I discovered another marvelous detail – a gold filigree lamp here, a grinning gold griffin there.

  Mario and I had the best (non-Lux Club) seats in the house. Mario joined me just as the curtain went up.

  The theater smelled of cold fur, wool, face powder and flowery perfume. Fluffy white heads dotted the audience like a field of chrysanthemums. The evening was also an infomercial for Captivating, and every theatergoer got a small leaf-green bag of samples and a tiny spray bottle. These were examined with excited oohs and playful squirts of the Captivating Finishing Spray. I left my bag under the seat. I wasn’t going to have kale forced on me in any form.

  There was a fanfare, the lights dimmed, the great gold and red curtains swung open, and then there was wild applause as Jessica appeared in a smashing black sequined gown.

  She looked gorgeous. Her blond hair was thick and full, her face unlined. Her arms were toned and one long leg showed in the slit on her sparkling black gown.

  The audience laughed at her jokes and applauded her one-woman skits. ‘The President declared a war on poverty, so I threw a hand grenade at a bum.’

  How could anyone think that was funny?

  I disliked the show – no, I loathed it. Jessica mocked the poor and immigrants. Mario laughed. Never mind that he was an immigrant himself. I put a tight smile on my face and left it there, like an abandoned For Sale sign.

  Finally, we came to Jessica’s surprise. ‘Vogue magazine likes to run stories about street fashion,’ she said. ‘Well, they ain’t seen nothing yet. Let me show you the fashions I found on the streets of St Louie – right around the good ol’ Lux Theater.’

  Uh, oh. I held my breath. The area around the Lux was problematic, to be kind. The homeless people scared the crap out of the suburbanites who’d paid a hundred bucks for their tickets. The Lux Club members were protected, but only if they didn’t go off the reservation.

  Jessica, slim and glamorous, said, ‘Let me introduce my top three street fashion finds.’

  The orchestra played tinkling music and Jessica said, ‘Here we have our first model, Suzy. She’s wearing two dresses, and a cape in a fashionable shade of gray, accessorized by a single Rosie O’Grady bottle.’

  A woman who could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty staggered out, shrouded in two sta
ined dresses. The heavy beige wool dress had a loose hem that flapped around her dirty legs. A lighter white summer dress topped the wool one. It had yellow stains down the back that looked like urine. Suzy wore a Salvation Army blanket thrown over her scrawny shoulders. Suzy’s smile revealed a toothless mouth. She waved her bottle cheerfully, and cheap wine arced over the stage. The audience howled with laughter. Suzy plopped down by the footlights like an abandoned doll and took a long pull on the bottle.

  The audience applauded.

  ‘Thank you, Suzy, dear,’ Jessica said. ‘Next, we have Denise. She also favors the layered look.’

  Denise’s haunted eyes looked out from under a baseball cap. She wore a black hoodie and a green Army jacket. Denise pushed her loaded shopping cart in a wide circle around Jessica, as if the glittering star would steal her trash-bagged bundles.

  The audience laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry, Denise darling,’ Jessica said. ‘No one will take your worldly goods.’

  ‘Why are these people laughing?’ I said to Mario. ‘This isn’t funny.’

  ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘She has something for all of the models.’

  ‘Humiliation,’ I said, as the third woman came out.

  ‘And last, but not least, we have Becky,’ Jessica said.

  Becky, bleary-eyed and greasy-haired, managed a lopsided smile. She looked like she was wearing most of a Goodwill store. Her shaggy coat made her into a gray, lumbering bear.

  ‘What’s under that coat, dear?’ Jessica asked. ‘Show us.’

  Becky fumbled with the single remaining button and tossed the coat on the stage. A wave of stink overwhelmed the people in the first rows, including me. Jessica fanned herself. The audience laughed.

  Underneath, Becky wore a floppy man’s plaid flannel shirt.

  ‘Take off the shirt,’ Jessica said.

  Becky flung it off, to loud cheers. She smiled shyly at the audience and they cried, ‘More, more!’

  Becky threw off the gray hoodie, next a stained blue work shirt, and a once-white T-shirt, while the audience chanted ‘More! More! More!’

  Her eyes were dull and her smile was lost. Now Becky was wearing a blue blouse. The sleeves had been cut off.