Part 5 (1/2)
Wayne was too sharp for me, though. ”Did you learn all of this from your hunky detective friend?”
”What hunky detective friend?” I asked, making my eyes as innocent as I could.
”Alexis,” George said.
”Oh, you mean . . . Jakes?” I'm a pretty decent actress . . . most of the time.
Wayne laughed. ”Look, she blushes when she says his name.”
”I'm not-” I started, my hands rus.h.i.+ng to my face. Then I realized I'd been had.
”You're mean,” I told them.
”He's mean,” Wayne said, pointing at his partner. ”I'm nice.”
”Okay, okay,” I said, ”so I got the information from Detective Jakes. So what?”
”So nothing,” Wayne said. ”I was just asking.”
”Never mind him,” George said. ”So, what's on your mind, Alex? Are you going to play detective again?”
”No, of course not. I mean, I don't think so,” I said. ”I just-It was just a shock, you know? To have that happen? And I knew Jackson. I think if there's something I can do . . . to help find out who did it . . . I should do it, right?” Hoping to distract them, I handed George my cell phone. ”By the way. Could you help me get rid of my ringtone?”
”Why do you want to do that?” George asked innocently.
”Why do I want to do that? Because ever since you put 'Y.M.C.A.' from the Village People on my phone I've been a laughingstock. Seriously, it was fun . . . for a while. But let's try something new. And not the Village People.”
”What would you like? You can pretty much have anything you want.”
I gave him the evil eye. ”Just nothing too embarra.s.sing, okay? I am a mother and an established TV star.” I playfully punched him on the arm.
”Ow! That hurt, sweetie!”
”Oh, shut up. You are such a wuss!”
”Oh, and Detective Jakes is a strong, hunky hero, right? Did he ask you to get involved? Because he needs your 'help'?” George was not one to be distracted. ”Or because he wants to flex those muscles for you?”
”Whatever the reason, I say do it,” Wayne said.
”I have a boyfriend.”
”You're not in a committed relations.h.i.+p, are you?” he asked. ”An exclusive, committed relations.h.i.+p?”
Well, we didn't see other people. I knew Paul wanted it that way. At least he did before our last conversation. But now I wasn't sure I did. Even before meeting Jakes when Marcy was killed, I had my doubts that Paul was right for me.
I'd first found Jakes very annoying, and then attractive. Paul had sensed it and become jealous. By the time Marcy's killer was caught, I knew Jakes was interested, and the last time we'd seen each other he'd kissed me.
After that I had studiously avoided him and begun paying much more attention to Paul-out of guilt, I guess. Not really the perfect platform on which to build a relations.h.i.+p.
Now Jakes was back, and I was glad, very glad. Was that why I'd agreed to help him? Well, it wasn't the only reason. I did want whoever had killed Jackson to be found. So where was the harm in helping Jakes? It wasn't like I'd begged him to let me help. He had come to me, right?
Paul would never understand, though, and I knew it.
”I'm not sure where Paul and I are exactly,” I said, finally answering Wayne's question. ”We're committed to each other, I guess. He's a great guy! I care about him so much. I just don't know why I can't let him in more.” I looked at my friends and almost cried. ”What's wrong with me?”
”Nothing's wrong with you, sweetie. Maybe it's not meant to be. There's only one way to find out, though. Help Detective Jakes and maybe you'll see what that's all about. Once and for all,” George said. They both looked at me, the troubled single friend, with the kind of compa.s.sion only a happily committed couple could.
”After all. You have nothing to fear but fear itself.” Wayne added.
”Didn't FDR say that during the Great Depression?” I looked at them, grimaced and then grabbed my gla.s.s.
”I'm trying to save you from your own personal depression,” Wayne said, pouring me a little more pink fabulousness. ”You could be missing out on something wonderful because of fear.”
”You're right. I've been afraid to find out how I really feel because then I'll have to do something about it. I'm going to help Jakes and figure things out.”
”Cheers!” George said.
”You go, girl!” Wayne added.
We all raised our martinis and toasted. I'm sure I appeared more confident than I really was.
Chapter 10.
When I went back to work on Monday, it was obvious Jackson's murder had affected everyone. There was a deep sense of mourning. Jackson was well liked, and you could tell people were in a state of shock. Everyone was quite solicitous toward me . . . wanting to know if I was doing all right and how I felt when Jackson's body came tumbling down at me on stage.
Sammy Horner, known as Timber because his huge belly made him ”equilibrium challenged,” was directing that day. I'd worked with him on The Yearning Tide. He moved around from show to show, covering for other directors on vacation or whatever.
”Okay, okay,” he yelled, ”grill Alex on your own time, kids. She needs to get to hair and makeup. I know it's a sad thing but we have to get moving. We've got a show to do. Jackson would want us to.”
What an idiot. Jackson would want us to? Jackson would want us to take the day off and go to the beach. That's what Jackson would want. But I was a professional and agreed that the show must go on. So I went to my dressing room to drop off my stuff and pick up my script. Then I headed off to hair and makeup.
”Awful, just awful,” Mary, my makeup artist, said. ”It was too awful! I mean, poor Jackson! And you, standing up there. It was like something out of a Greek tragedy. You in your gown. You looked beautiful, by the way. Then the blood dripping down your face. I mean, it was tragic. Truly like something out of an old Bette Davis movie. Or a Stephen King novel . . .”
”I get it, Mary. I was there, remember?” This was getting a little hard to take. I had to work today, after all, and stay focused. Thank G.o.d I was just playing one character today: Felicia. ”Could you please just finish my lips?”
I looked at her in the mirror, saw a tear roll down her cheek. She was a pretty girl in her early twenties, and at that moment I wondered if she had just been another notch on Jackson's belt.
”I'm sorry, Mary. I didn't mean to be so harsh. This is just all getting to me.” I pulled back to really look at her. ”How well did you know him?” I asked.
”Not well,” she said. ”Oh, I mean, he was nice enough to me, even flirted a little, but . . . that was all. We just . . . talked while I worked on him.”
I wasn't sure if I believed her or not. I guess it was possible she just had a lot of unrequited feelings for Jackson Masters.
”Do you know anything about his family, Mary?” I asked.