A Star is Dead

by Elaine Viets

  ‘What’s this around your neck, dear?’ Jessica’s voice was sweetly mocking as she fingered a rhinestone G on a greasy blue ribbon around Becky’s neck.

  She stood over Becky like an evil queen, sparkling, commanding and so beautiful. ‘Why, it looks so sparkly. Is it a diamond pendant?’

  ‘No, I found it in the parking lot,’ Becky said.

  ‘And what’s the G stand for?’ Jessica asked. ‘Grubby?’

  Jessica was mocking her, but Becky answered seriously. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘And we can see how lucky you are,’ Jessica said. The audience roared with laughter. Becky smiled, as if she didn’t quite get the joke.

  Jessica checked out Becky’s lumpy lower body.

  ‘Good heavens, girl, you must be exhausted carrying around all those clothes,’ Jessica said. ‘How many pairs of pants are you wearing?’

  ‘Four,’ Becky mumbled.

  ‘Take them off! Take them off!’ chanted the audience.

  Becky sat down on the stage and took off her down-at-heel work boots, then stood up and stepped out of a pair of men’s baggy khakis. Underneath was a pair of striped pajama bottoms. The audience laughed. ‘Take them off!’ they cried.

  Becky did, and revealed dirty red sweatpants.

  ‘Take them off!’

  She did. Becky was down to baggy brown jeggings and her sleeveless blouse.

  ‘Take it off! Take it all off!’ the audience screamed. Becky looked confused.

  I couldn’t stand any more. I got up to leave. ‘Where are you going?’ Mario asked. He grabbed my hand.

  ‘Away,’ I said. ‘I can’t watch this.’

  ‘Stay,’ he said. ‘For me? Please?’

  He was still holding my hand. He looked so handsome. I glanced again at dirty-haired Becky, who looked like a lost child. ‘It’s almost over,’ he said.

  I stayed. Later, I hated myself for that decision.

  ‘Becky, dear, will you take off your clothes for ten dollars?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘No.’ Becky’s voice was small.

  ‘Fifty dollars?’

  Becky shook her head no.

  ‘What about a hundred dollars?’ Jessica’s smile sparkled and her sweet voice made you see the riches a hundred bucks could bring.

  A man stood up in the audience, his belly hanging over his baggy suit pants. ‘Hell, for a hundred bucks, I’ll take off my clothes!’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Jessica said. ‘But judging by your physique, I’d pay you to keep your clothes on.’ The audience laughed, and he sat down red-faced.

  ‘What about you, Becky?’ Jessica’s voice was seductive. ‘A hundred dollars is a lot of money.’

  ‘Do I have to take off my underwear, too?’ Becky’s voice was so small only those of us in the front rows could hear her.

  ‘What?’ Jessica said. Becky repeated her question.

  ‘What do you say, folks? Underwear on or off?’

  ‘Keep it on and take it off! Keep it on and take it off!’ Thank goodness for St Louis reserve. If this was any other city they’d want the poor woman totally naked.

  The audience kept chanting ‘Keep it on and take it off!’ Old, white-haired women and bald men chanted that sentence together. I was sickened. Enough. I started to stand again, but Mario grasped my hand tighter. ‘Don’t go,’ he begged.

  Becky unbuttoned the sleeveless blue blouse, revealing a drooping circle-stitch cotton bra holding her pendulous breasts. Then she slipped out of her sagging jeggings and revealed sad grayish granny panties. The G around her neck sparkled under the stage lights.

  ‘Well, it’s certainly your lucky night, Becky,’ Jessica said. ‘Stand up, dear.’

  Becky stood, shivering slightly.

  ‘There you have it,’ Jessica said. ‘Everyone has their price!’

  The audience applauded as Tawnee appeared with a silver platter piled with envelopes. She wore a glittering red dress and a toothy smile.

  ‘Here are the prizes for our models,’ Jessica said. ‘Becky, you get this crisp new one-hundred-dollar bill and seven gift cards for McDonald’s meals.’

  Becky had already slipped on her jeggings and was buttoning her sleeveless shirt. She took the envelope, gathered up the rest of her clothes and hurried off the stage.

  Denise and Suzy each got ten dollars and five McDonald’s gift cards.

  ‘And as a special treat,’ Jessica said, ‘I’ve hired a limo to take our three models to the party at Reginald Du Pres’s home in Chouteau Forest tonight.’

  The audience applauded wildly, some standing. I looked to see if Old Reggie was in his box. ‘The old boy will have a heart attack when those three bag ladies show up at his mansion,’ I said to Mario.

  ‘He already knows,’ Mario said. I found that hard to believe.

  Stu and Tawnee helped the other two homeless women offstage to another round of applause.

  ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen,’ Jessica said to the audience, ‘before we go, let me introduce you to the people I can’t live without. First, my friend, understudy, and assistant, Tawnee Simms. If that name sounds familiar, she had a part in Eternally Groovy as the endless party girl. If you didn’t notice her, it was because – unlike me – Jessica kept her clothes on during the party scene. Take a bow, Tawnee.’

  Tawnee came out, a fake smile plastered on her face.

  ‘Next, we have my assistant, Stu Milano. Stu was a Las Vegas magician, who somehow made his career disappear. Tonight, he magically muscled Denise’s cart on-stage. Come out, Stu.’

  Stu, wearing a black tux, skipped out smiling, and bowed. His long, brassy blond hair, pulled into a ponytail, emphasized his noble nose. From some angles, his handsome features had a feral look.

  ‘Then there’s my magic make-up man, Will London, who brings out my natural beauty. Will wants his own line of make-up, and if he kisses my ass enough, he may get it. Come on out, Will.’

  Will’s smile was stretched across his face as the audience laughed at her comment. Like Stu, he wore a tux, but Stu’s was better cut.

  ‘And last, but not least, my local hair bender, Mario Garcia. Come on stage, Mario. Folks, didn’t he do a fabulous job with my hair?’ She ran her fingers through her long mane.

  By now the whole audience was standing. Mario looked surprised. I nudged him and he ran up the side stairs and soon was on-stage, glowing with happiness. Jessica and her crew took three bows, then headed backstage. Mario came out and got me. ‘You can come to Jessica’s dressing room with me,’ he said.

  The star’s dressing room was an opulent affair with vases of red roses, red velvet chaises longues, and gold mirrors. Jessica was coughing like she was about to lose a lung. Tawnee handed the sickly star tissues and a throat spray. ‘I’m making you warm tea with honey, Jessica,’ she said.

  ‘To hell with the tea, get me a drink!’ Jessica said, gasping for breath. The coughing fit was nearly over. She spit something nasty into a tissue and Tawnee took it.

  Next, Tawnee poured a hefty slug of bourbon into the tea, turning it into a hot toddy. Jessica downed it. ‘That worked,’ she said. ‘We leave tomorrow morning, thank gawd. I have to get out of this freezing shit-hole and home to California.’ Tawnee looked pale and tired. I suspected she wanted to leave, too. Mario fussed with the star’s hair, and Will touched up her make-up, while Jessica sipped a second toddy through a straw.

  ‘Stu, did you put those disgusting, smelly creatures into the limo?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘Yes. Denise refused to leave her shopping cart and stayed behind, but Suzy and Becky are both going.’ He bared his white teeth in a smile, but it didn’t reach his flat, cardsharp’s eyes.

  ‘I can’t wait for Old Reggie Du Pres to see those two – and smell them,’ Jessica said. ‘I told him I was bringing the models from the show. He said he’d be honored. He also said he’d only invited the “best people” to this party. Wait till he sees my models. Haw, haw, haw.’

  Her cruel bar-room laugh ended in a sec
ond coughing fit. It took ten minutes for her to recover from the coughing. I was no doctor, but her cough sounded deep and dangerous.

  Jessica patted the satin-lined pockets of her sable evening cloak, then said, ‘Dammit, Stu, did you make my gloves disappear?’

  ‘Only to make them reappear, milady,’ he said. A mocking smile played across his thin face, and he produced the fur-trimmed gloves with a flourish.

  Jessica angrily snatched them out of his grasp and slid her hands inside them. ‘I’ve had enough of your third-rate tricks, Stu,’ she snapped.

  Then she whirled around, the glossy dark cape spreading out like wings and said, ‘OK, let’s get the hell out of here, and tomorrow we can get the hell out of here for good.’

  FIVE

  We’d almost made it out of the Lux dressing room when Stu’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and said, ‘It’s Reggie Du Pres.’

  ‘Gee, I wonder why he’s calling?’ Tawnee’s voice was mock-innocent. Jessica laughed, then erupted into another coughing fit. Tawnee handed her the throat spray.

  Stu put his cell phone on speaker so we could all hear the conversation and answered, ‘Yeah, Reg, what’s up?’

  I almost choked. Nobody ever addressed the Forest patriarch as ‘Reg.’

  We heard Old Reggie spluttering. Then he got control of himself. His speech was dangerously slow. ‘There are two bums here in a limo. They said Jessica sent them.’

  Jessica grabbed the cell phone from Stu. ‘I did, Reggie. I told you some models from the show might be coming to the party.’

  ‘Models?’ Outrage burned through the phone. ‘One’s drunk and neither one has bathed in some time!’

  ‘That’s ambience, Reg. They’re part of my show tonight.’

  ‘I can’t let those people in my home!’

  ‘Then I won’t come,’ Jessica said. ‘I’ll go straight to my hotel. I’m exhausted, anyway.’

  The silence stretched for nearly a minute. I could almost hear Old Reggie calculating the cost of the caterer, the florist, the open bar, not to mention the damage to his prestige. His house was some eight thousand square feet – he had plenty of room to stash the unwanted guests.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘As a courtesy to you.’

  ‘See you soon, darling,’ Jessica cooed, and clicked off the phone.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, and we were finally outside the theater.

  Even though it was eleven at night, Jessica was given a police escort to the Du Pres mansion: A car in front and one in back. Mario and I joined the entourage, following Jessica’s black stretch limo.

  I congratulated Mario but said little else. He was thrilled with his on-stage accolade, and I didn’t want to spoil his fun. I was still appalled by the way Jessica had used and abused those poor homeless women.

  When we reached the city limits of Chouteau Forest, a spot-lit banner said, ‘Welcome, Jessica!’ From there, it was a short drive to Reggie’s mansion.

  The nineteenth-century stone castle looked like it had been frosted with white icing. Every light was on, and we could hear a string quartet playing. Reggie himself came out through the black lacquered double doors to greet Jessica. The old man looked distinguished in black tie. He kissed Jessica’s hand. I was close enough to see the old man’s flinty eyes. He had his prize. Jessica gave him a syrupy smile and Reggie led her inside.

  The rest of us followed, dazzled by the lights and sparkling chandeliers. Candles flickered, and hot house flowers were everywhere: sculptural arrangements of waxy white calla and sweet-smelling Stargazer lilies, cheerful bouquets of Gerbera daisies, colorful poppies and showy peonies.

  The entire Forest aristocracy had turned out at Reggie’s, a glittering array of local grandees. The women brought their jewels out of vaults and put on their evening gowns shining with bugle beads and sequins. The men added festive touches to their evening wear – a daring cummerbund or colorful bow tie.

  All waited in a long line to meet Jessica. She sat in a throne-like chair next to a table of leaf-green goodie bags. Jessica was in full sales mode, graciously greeting the guests and pushing her products. The Forest creatures looked thrilled to receive the free samples.

  Mario stopped to talk to some clients and I headed for the food. The array was amazing for a culinary conservative Forest dweller. Small, handwritten signs labeled each appetizer: baby boiled potatoes with caviar and sour cream, lobster ceviche, lamb lollipops, grilled watermelon caprese skewers, grilled baby octopus, and an enormous platter of cheese – a real English Cheddar, blue-veined Roquefort, Swiss Pecorino, and Italian Asiago.

  The Forest dwellers went for the more conventional choices: the lamb, the caviar potatoes, and the cheese. I wasn’t surprised to find Clare Rappaport in elegant silver lace, helping herself to the baby octopus. I waved at her.

  ‘Isn’t this amazing?’ she said. ‘The old boy has done us proud, and I’ve told him so.’ She skimmed off to a table of her friends.

  Becky, the ‘model’ who’d won a hundred dollars, had a plate piled high with appetizers. ‘These thingies are good,’ she said, through a mouthful of lamb lollipop. She’d washed her face and combed her greasy hair.

  ‘I’ll try some,’ I said, filling my own plate. We picked up napkin-wrapped silverware. Becky sat at a small table covered with a pink cloth.

  ‘May I join you?’ I asked.

  ‘Do you want to?’ she said. ‘I haven’t had a bath in a while. The old man didn’t want me and Suzy in his house. He told us we could shower in the pool house and take a nap there, and he’d send over food. Suzy took him up on his offer. I told him to fuck himself.’

  I nearly choked on a caviar potato.

  ‘I wish I’d told that bitch that, too.’ Anger flared in her eyes – and hurt.

  Becky stabbed her lobster ceviche. ‘I hate her,’ she hissed. ‘I hate her. I hate her. She wanted me to get naked so they could laugh at me, but I kept my underwear on.’

  She seemed proud of this small victory. ‘Why does she do that – make people feel bad – when she has everything?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘She’s leaving St Louis tomorrow.’

  ‘Good riddance,’ Becky said. She stabbed her grilled octopus. ‘I hope she feels the same pain she inflicts on others.’ The words felt like a curse.

  We ate our food in silence, and then Becky said, ‘I didn’t used to be like this. I had a husband and a house and a good job. I was a nurse’s aide at an old folks’ home. I like working with older people. Then I lost the job and my world turned to shit. That’s why I did it, you know – that’s why I let her make a fool out of me. I was hoping someone would see me and give me a job. It’s hard living on the street. Hard and dangerous.’

  ‘Were you robbed?’

  ‘Worse. Robbed and raped. I started drinking after I got raped.’

  I put my fork down. ‘You were raped? When?’

  ‘Three years ago last December. In an alley off Olive, not too far from the Lux. The bastard beat me up and took my stash – ten dollars.’

  ‘Did you report it?’

  She snorted. ‘Won’t do any good. I never saw the guy’s face. He was wearing a ski mask.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  ‘Happens a lot, you know.’ She seemed so matter of fact about that terrible event. Maybe telling her story that way helped diminish the horror.

  ‘I’d do anything for a job,’ Becky said. ‘Well, almost anything. I’m no hooker. But I’d sober up if I could get work again and get my life back.’

  She patted her glittering rhinestone G. ‘That’s why I always wear this. Always. And no matter what that evil bitch says, it did bring me good luck. With that hundred dollars she gave me, I’ll get a week in a hotel. That’s all I want, a warm room and a job.’

  I gave her the name of Women’s Work, a local organization that helped homeless women find jobs. Becky promised to contact them. ‘They’re not far from the Lux,’ I said. ‘When you get your ride ba
ck to St Louis, maybe the limo can drop you off there.’

  Becky snorted. ‘I don’t think we’re going back by limo. But thanks. This information gives me some hope.’

  A server took my empty plate. ‘May I get you something to drink, Becky?’ I asked.

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m off the sauce, starting now. I will get more food, though.’

  She was back at the table. I went looking for the bathroom. I knew the house from when my mother was housekeeper here. I wandered down the grand hall, which deserved its name. White marble. It was lined with feathery palm trees and marble statues of Roman gods and goddesses. In daylight, the stained-glass ceiling was stunning.

  I heard someone crying in a darkened salon next to the bathroom, and peeked in. It was Tawnee and Stu. Even in the soft light, Tawnee looked haggard, her blond hair flat and her face lined and pale. Her make-up was smudged and her mascara left muddy trails down her face. Up close, her sparkly red dress looked shabby and worn.

  Stu seemed to have lost his usual chipper demeanor. His tux was rumpled and his long, brassy hair was slipping out of his ponytail holder. From this angle, I could see it was a silver death’s head. Quite the player, Stu. Only Will seemed confident, crisp and cheerful. None of them saw me.

  I slipped inside the bathroom. I could still hear Tawnee weeping about her on-stage humiliation. ‘It goes on night after night,’ she said. ‘I can’t take it, Stu. But what am I going to do at my age?’

  ‘Oh, for gawd’s sake,’ Stu said. ‘Most people would be thrilled to be in your shoes. As my mother used to say, I hate a whiner.’

  ‘I hate Jessica,’ Tawnee said, and punched something soft. A pillow? A sofa cushion?

  ‘I wish she was dead. She ruined my life. I got good reviews in that movie, and she made sure I never got another part.’

  ‘Same with me,’ Stu said. ‘I know Jessica got me barred from the Vegas and Tahoe casinos so I’d have to work for her.’

  If he knew that, I wondered, why was he working for her – and confessing it? Didn’t the man have any self-respect?

  ‘And I know how the bitch convinced the producer of Eternally Groovy to hire her instead of me,’ Tawnee said. ‘I was too proud to go down on him. I should have given him a hummer.’