Part 2 (2/2)
Fully sedated, she said, ”You sound amused with the current state of my life.”
”It can't be that bad.”
Perhaps, in his book, being a social leper was good?
”Oh, it's bad enough.” Talking was using up too much energy. And she was doing somuchof it. ”Darrin Ryder is a whiny little actor who thinks everything belongs to him...including the crew. He pulled me into a closet on location in D.C. Pawed at me during one of those mind-numbingly long breaks between camera shots. He may be the flavor of the month in Hollywood...but I didn't want a taste of him.”
”So he didn't appreciate that.”
Again, her answer came unchecked. ”Usually the support staff is like wolfsbane to actors. Yeah...we're there to make them look fabulous. And that's where most grat.i.tude ends. But Darrin Ryder had some kind of obsession with the Eva-Claremont's-kid thing. I'm used to it, so I didn't return all the displaced affection. I suppose that pulled his trigger. When he made his move, I just gave him my own love tap. In the b.a.l.l.s.”
”Effective.”
”But Ryder...and the director...and the producer...and his agent...and his manager...weren't won over.”
Wow, she thought, listening through a fog. She sounded flippant, even though the career she loved so much was suffering. But the industry was forgiving. If she could manage to charm her way back from this whole ”loose canon” stigma, she could get back to stuntwork-the one fulfilling activity in her life that gave her some actual pride. h.e.l.l, it wasn't like she was in it for the pitiful paycheck and zero glitz; what she got out of it was worth any amount of cuts and bruises.
Dawn tried to pep up. ”I have questions foryou, too.” She raised a lazy finger to point at him. ”Starting with, how do you propose to make an unwarranted pa.s.s at me when you don't even have a body?”
The Voice laughed, and she succ.u.mbed to the vocal caress. The couch's velvet was soft as she brushed over it, picturing something way more intriguing than upholstery under her fingertips.
”No answer?” she asked, satisfied with being the one who was guiding things now.
”I don't think so,” he said, his whisper even lower. ”You've got too much of a reputation as a maneater, and I'm into this notion called self-preservation.”
So sue me for all the bangathons I've entered, she thought. No shame in the enjoyment of s.e.x.
”You're also very good at your job, very physically adept,” he added. ”Trained in swordplay and a.s.sorted weaponry, fights, high falls, gymnastics, harness work...”
”Say, maybe you could continue the list in person, Mr....?” Limpet? The name just didn't go with The Voice. It was like imagining Don Knotts playing the Phantom of the Opera.
He s.h.i.+fted back into gear with dizzying agility. ”How familiar are you with your mother's films?”
Back to business, then. She knew she could steer him there at some point.
”I know her stuff well. She made some watchable flicks before she was murdered.”
”Yes, she did. I'm impressed with her work. And I'm sorry her life was cut so short.”
”Hey, she was twenty-three,” Dawn said. ”We've all got to go some time.”
”You seem cavalier.”
Dawn struggled to sit up straighter, forcing out her words so they matched the flow of her thoughts. Her speech was still pokey, but stronger.
”What do you want me to do? Tear my clothes and wail about how much it bothers me that I, the wayward daughter of Eva Claremont, have already outlived the ideal woman, a person who gave so much beauty to the world during her short stay on it?
Do you want that sort of tragic eloquence?” Her throat burned, so she couldn't talk anymore.
”Grieving would be a start,” he said.
Closing her eyes, Dawn sighed, the sound short, soft, and even a little bitter. ”Hate to disappoint you, but she died when I was about a month old, and her blood doesn't exactly run through me. Unlike her, I'm not much for drama.”
”And that's why you went into the biz.”
She wasn't about to allow Amateur Freud Hour here, explaining how her career was a connection to Mommy while simultaneously being a big screw-you to Eva's indelible glamour. Sure, maybe Dawn was getting rebellious revenge against a parent who'd left too early, and maybe she was even enjoying how lovely starlet Eva wouldn't have approved of her daughter's gritty career. But this stranger didn't have to know any of that-Dawn's hyper self-awareness provided all the judgmental nitpicking she needed.
”Is my mother's oeuvre that important to my dad's disappearance, Mr....?”
Once again, he dodged, this time with an appreciation for her tenacity in his whisper. ”I believe there are links.”
”Then tell me already.” She battled through the mental mist to stand, but only got to the edge of the couch.
”I'm not sure you'd believe any of it, Dawn.”
”Try me. What are you all hiding around here?”
The soft electronic fizz of the speakers divided them as he stayed quiet. With the last of her strength, she pushed to her feet. The world became a little clearer, as if she'd broken through the surface of a pond and could hear,seeagain. She stood in front of the TV, still wavering, searching for a hidden camera, desperate for a clue.
”You won't find anything,” he said, sounding impressed for some reason. ”Breisi set this up so that I'm next to impossible to trace.”
”Really. Let's see. Since you won't tell me jack about Frank...” She ran a hand under the TV, finding nothing amiss. ”What's with Breisi anyway? And Kiko?” Gaining lucidity and composure by the second, she kept searching, standing on her tiptoes to get a gander at the underbelly of the screen. ”It wasn't like your employees were cheering to see me.”
From where she was standing, The Voice fully enveloped her, sending brittle tremors of awareness through her skin, under it. She closed her eyes again, liking this, wanting this to stop so she could concentrate on why she was actually here.
Shaking her head free of its fuzz, she forced alertness.
”I don't understand why Kiko and Breisi would've been rude,” The Voice said. ”Frank rarely discussed Eva, but he talked about you as if you walk on water.”
Peering around, she thought, Screw it, and climbed onto the colossal desk. From there, she got a different vantage point of the speaker. Didn't help.
Too bad she sucked at technology. Even if she had step-by-step directions, she wouldn't know how this setup worked.
”Walk on water, huh?” Dawn breathed in big gulps of air, almost back to her old self now. ”Hardly. But I am quite a sight when I'm walking on mahogany.”
She tapped her boot on his desktop, daring him to say something.”Cherry wood,” he whispered. ”And that surface has withstood a lot more than you.”
”Well. Have you been a bad boss man, using your desk for shenanigans with your secretary, Mr....?”
Another mild laugh, but this one wasn't very nice. It was ragged. Dark. ”You can't possibly imagine what's found itself with its back to that wood.”
Dawn didn't say anything for a moment, not with all the doubts she was having about Limpet and a.s.sociates. There was something creepier than their interior decorations going on here, something way out of her league.
As nonchalantly as she could, she dropped to the carpet and walked around to the side of the desk, where the chair rested.
There, she skimmed her hand over the wood, pausing when she found something-a groove. She bent to inspect it.
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