Fade To Black Page 17

  From Melinda: You’ve probably seen the news already. If not, you will soon. Please know that you have nothing to worry about. Just make your movie. Dominic and I will handle the rest.

  Like it was that easy.

  Like she could just not worry.

  Like every part of this production wasn’t falling out from under her.

  But then Melinda sent another text that helped Sloane to stand a little straighter.

  We have a plan, and we’re striking tonight.

  “Five minutes,” Sloane said, looking at Miles before turning to Lila. “I’m taking Jolie her dessert, then it’s back to work for all of us.”

  She couldn’t ask Melinda any questions about tonight, especially not over text —plausible deniability and all that.

  But Sloane imagined that Dominic was in charge of whatever they were up to, and could only imagine what he was doing right now.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dominic

  Dominic looked at the assembled crowd, gathered to celebrate yet another star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, this one for the Shellys’ mortal enemy.

  “So just to be clear,” Dominic scoffed, “Wentz is putting himself on the same plinth of glory as the great David Spade?”

  “What do you have against David Spade?” Melinda asked.

  “Nothing. He’s fine if you enjoy garbage movies like Joe Dirt. But why him and not Horatio Sanz, or what’s his name from Goodburger, the guy who can’t stop laughing at his own jokes?”

  “Keenan Thompson.”

  “Right. Keenan Thompson. Fuck that guy.”

  “There are better targets,” Melinda said. “Did you know the Rugrats have a star?”

  “You can’t be serious. That’s not even a person. It’s a cartoon.”

  “Mickey Mouse, Bugs Bunny, Woody Woodpecker … there are plenty of—”

  “Those are all individuals. Rugrats is a show.”

  “Fine. How about the Simpsons?”

  “How do you know so much about who has stars on the Walk of Fame?”

  “The same reason you should.”

  It wasn’t much of an answer, but same as always, Dominic knew exactly what Melinda meant. “I’m a lot more interested in who doesn’t have a star. Clooney. Roberts. Eastwood. You know what all three of them have in common?”

  “They all knew they were too good for it.”

  “Exactly,” Dominic said with a satisfied grunt. “The 50K it costs is a drip of piss for any of them, but they sure as hell aren’t paying into the scam. George Lucas and Jim Carrey.” Two more as he thought of them, followed immediately by another pair. “Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.”

  “How do you know so much about celebrities who don’t have stars?”

  “Like I said, much more interesting. They all understand that respect is more important than money, and that respect can never be bought.”

  Melinda shook her head, knowing what was next. “You’re going to start talking about Samuel Jackson again.”

  “Damn right I’m going to start talking about Frozone again. The man goes from playing Jules to doing Citibank commercials? He should be ashamed of himself.”

  “You’re awfully judgmental for a man who talks about money when he climaxes.”

  “That’s for you more than me,” Dominic said.

  “He’s here.” Melinda nodded to Wentz, now visible at the lip of a quickly growing crowd. “Do you want to keep telling me about how your ways of making ridiculous sums of money are superior to Samuel Jackson’s, or do you think we should maybe take care of business?”

  Dominic wanted to take her hand and start brushing her skin with his thumb as they walked over to face Wentz in front of his growing horde of well-wishers and outright admirers. But they would appear more powerful as two separate people. Though, that was only an illusion, the Shellys’ true strength was in their union.

  The sidewalk was littered with people and media. Dominic and Melinda had investigated every open opportunity to hit Wentz in their immediate horizon, and the Walk of Fame was their best chance to make a hard strike, by far.

  “It’s the Shellys!” One of the photographers yelled, prompting Wentz to instinctively look their way, then twist his face into a mockery of benevolence.

  “Dominic! Melinda!” Wentz waved them over as if he had invited the couple to the ceremony himself. “It’s great to see you two. I can’t believe you came to see my star.”

  “I wouldn’t come to your funeral, but I figured this was more embarrassing.” Dominic laughed and waved to the crowd, showing them that this was all in good fun — just two Hollywood moguls mugging and teasing each other in front of the cameras.

  Wentz glanced at the assembly of handlers around him, waited for them to scatter, then spoke in a voice low enough that only the Shellys could hear. “I’m surprised you could make the time. Don’t you have a pet project to look after? I heard you were having some serious problems.”

  “Our announced projects are all running on or ahead of schedule,” Melinda said.

  “Is there a particular film or show you’re talking about?” Dominic asked. “We’re not sure what you mean.”

  “The one with the publicity stunt of a director who’s always getting herself into trouble, and might eventually take things too far and find herself in a situation the media and public at large won’t even think to question.”

  “And that’s when they find all the little girls in your closet,” Melinda spit.

  “Isn’t this entertaining?” Wentz bellowed, raising his arms to the crowd. Then back to the Shellys with more of a murmur. “It’s entertaining for now. But I’m sure you know my history in this industry. I’ve no problem pulling the plug on a project once it stops being profitable, or starts becoming a pain in my ass. Right now, your little pet project feeds my little pet project. I just hope it doesn’t bite me.”

  Dominic stepped closer, until his exhales were kissing the bastard’s clammy skin. “You’ve had a few misses lately. A Day to Die For is what … sixteen percent on Rotten Tomatoes?”

  “So kind of you to read up on my reviews before your little chance encounter with me. A Day to Die For is a piece of shit, but that piece of shit still netted out in all the ways I needed it to.”

  Wentz gave them a serpentine smile and Dominic wondered what demonic thing he had done behind the scenes of that particular film.

  Dominic continued, “There’s also The Alone Syndrome and your laughably bad Oscar bait from last year, Appreciation. Point is, you prehistoric pile of shit, your judgment isn’t what it used to be, and you’re one wrong move from spending the rest of your life playing Chinese finger cuffs in prison.”

  “Ha.” Wentz affected a laugh. “And I thought we were making veiled threats.”

  Melinda laughed for the crowd to fuel their little facade.

  His phone double buzzed to signal an urgent call, but Dominic ignored it. “You’re the one with the secrets and everything to lose. Back off.”

  “Or what?” More laughing and smiling for the assembly. “What are you going to do? Sure, the two of you have done a couple of impressive things. But you’re slow to learn when it comes to the big stuff. Like the fact that you will never be able to touch me. You missed that lesson the last time, which brings us to now. You have nothing, and you can do nothing. The best you have is a piece of fiction that if you’re lucky will end up as a footnote in cinematic history — a former child star and attention whore’s failed attempt to stomp her foot and demand one final grasp at the spotlight.”

  “Or it’s the film that finally brings you down,” Dominic said, still inches away from his face.

  Melinda waved to the crowd one last time, then turned to Wentz and whispered. “We’re going to enjoy destroying you.”

  Then they turned around and walked side by side to their limo.

  Dominic took out his phone to see what that double buzz had been all about as he sat. Roberto pulled away from the curb as he looked down
at the screen, scrolling to absorb the news.

  He looked up from his phone to find Melinda looking at him expectantly.

  “Good or bad?”

  “A bit of both,” Dominic told her. “Juke’s dirty code has all been found and eradicated. And — you’re going to love this — Parvati says she’s glad this happened. The attack apparently illuminated a few issues that would have been big problems eventually. Best of all, again according to Parvati, is that she also found the back door where the hacker got in. She sealed it, along with several other vulnerabilities. So, in some respects, Juke is looking better than ever.”

  “I imagine the bad has something to do with budget.”

  “Both of them — time and money have taken a hit. We told Parvati to spare no expense in solving this problem, and she didn’t. Even used Bishop to—“

  “Christ.” Melinda shook her head.

  “It had to be done.” Bishop — B15H0P — was the best hacker either of them knew. Maybe the best hacker anyone knew. Dominic didn’t know how much this particular problem had run them, but it was a fortune and a half for sure. The initial engagement with Bishop cost 100K, plus the cost of any work. They had used the hacker three times so far, and each of those times it would have been much cheaper to have the problem permanently eliminated, including the price of bulletproof alibis. They took the much more expensive route in the past, not because they were concerned about the law, or about the consequences of getting caught — they wouldn’t be — but because the Shellys were only ruthless in the ways that felt right to them.

  “So we’ve paid through the nose to keep Juke on track while running consistent overages on virtually every part of the Sunset Project. Any idea what our total damages are?”

  Dominic shrugged. “Again, we don’t know the total number on Juke yet, though I’m sure it’s bad. We can probably still hit our launch date, but the taxes on doing so are monumental. We might need to move a few other projects around to make that happen, in addition to the outright expense. We’ll need to investigate the ripple effect of all that. Run a couple of models.”

  “And Juke’s the smaller problem. This All Smoke, No Fire bullshit could fuck us.”

  “We won’t let it,” Dominic said.

  “That’s not enough.” Melinda shook her head, much more agitated than Dominic ever wanted to see her. “His movie will come out first, discredit ours, and we’ll lose millions.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Fire will come out and garner a lot of conversation, which will only fuel interest in our film. This is his first big mistake. Wentz is seeing this as Armageddon vs. Deep Impact, Ants vs. A Bugs Life, or Capote vs. Infamous. But this isn’t the twin film phenomenon, this is two sides of the same story. We’ll turn our entire marketing engine on using his movie to promote ours.”

  “I like that.” Melinda nodded, giving him that look that said, This is why I married you.

  “But that strategy is contingent on us having the movie and the platform to leverage, so the question remains, What do we do now? We’ll need to spend substantially more on both projects to keep them safe and make their deadlines. An upfront cost, but at least we’ll release on time.”

  “If we miss our target, we’ll lose a lot more later.”

  “So, we’re agreed? We’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Melinda scooted closer to him. All that room in the limo, and they were pressed together like always. “That’s barely a choice. It’s our turn. His time is over, whatever that costs.”

  She leaned her head against Dominic’s chest as he stroked her hair, settling into the moment, enjoying the inevitable downfall of their first collective enemy. When the Shellys stood up to Wentz for the first time on Sloane’s behalf, the predator did everything in his ample power to ruin them. But that hadn’t been enough and it never would be. Despite the uber producer’s many connections he had managed to mangle or burn, the Shellys made it bigger than anyone ever expected.

  Ten long, hard years of climbing one permanent rung at a time — no matter how long ascension from one to the next might take, they never allowed themselves to lose a rung once gained — chased by a decade of remarkable, unprecedented, and now exponential growth.

  Melinda was absolutely right. His time was over. Now it was their turn.

  Another double buzz in his pocket.

  Melinda pulled away as Dominic went to answer it.

  He looked at the screen and said, “Danny.”

  “Be nice.”

  “What do you have for us?” Dominic asked as he answered.

  “Plenty. There’s an envelope in your mailbox with more than you need, but I figured you’d like some of the pancakes and syrup over the phone.”

  “Can you please pick one of your personas that talks like a real person?”

  “The rumors aren’t rumors. Sprog is a fact.”

  “Proof?” Dominic said.

  “I’m working on it. So far, no one’s willing to go on record, and we don’t have any hard evidence, but I’m confident we’ll get it, given time. But that’s not the big thing.”

  “Well, shit.“ He glanced at Amanda. “What’s the big thing?”

  “He’s putting together a kid’s show.”

  “A kid’s show?”

  “A kid’s show?” Melinda repeated.

  “Yeah,” Danny said. “Something called Replay for one of the streamers. He’s shooting ten episodes for the first season. They’re taking classic movies and casting kids in all the roles for forty to sixty minute child-friendly remakes.”

  “Probably remakes to content he already owns,” Dominic muttered, mostly to himself, but also for Melinda’s benefit.

  “Sprog is a long-term project. It’ll take a while before I can find anyone willing to testify, but I’ve got a few eyes and ears inside his staff already. There’s a lot in the envelope on Replay and a few other projects at your place. I’ll keep you updated on anything else I find out.”

  “Thank you, Danny.” Dominic was surprised to realize how much he genuinely meant it.

  Melinda held out her hand.

  Dominic dropped his phone into it.

  “It’s possible we’ll need to stop our client in a more permanent way. Are you prepared to do that?” Melinda asked.

  “Is that something I should do now?”

  “No,” Melinda said. “Let’s call that Plan C.”

  “Plan C,” Danny said.

  Then he was gone.

  Melinda handed the phone back to Dominic.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked, knowing she was but feeling the need to send a silent reminder that this was the one line they could never uncross.

  She turned to him, her eyes sad but insistent. “I’m sure he threatened Sloane tonight. His life is worth nothing to me, hers is worth everything.” She took his hand. “There’s nothing we won’t do to protect her.”

  “Agreed.”

  Sloane

  Daisy looked up at Oliver as if she didn’t believe him, her eyebrows dramatically raised. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  “I don’t even know how to lie.” Oliver beamed down at her, radiating warmth and honesty.

  “You lie about some things.” Daisy crossed her arms in defiance, petulant instead of precocious.

  “What do you think I would lie about?” His face filled with wonder and concern for her answer.

  Daisy thought — really pondered it over a what felt like an overly chin-strokey moment — then said, “I bet you’ve lied about Santa Claus. All the grownups do.”

  Oliver kneeled down and met her eyes. In the gentle voice of a man who could never break the truth, no matter how hard he tried, he said, “You are absolutely right, Daisy. I have lied. To protect a child from the sadness of never knowing Santa, I have stretched the truth. But I would also argue that Santa Claus lives inside us all.” He smiled and tickled her on the arm. “Am I right?”

  Daisy laughed way too hard.

 
“I love how much older you are than your years,” Oliver told her, still kneeling, still looking into her eyes, still radiating warmth and honesty, and the best kind of genuine affection. “A question like that about Santa …” He shook his head in admiration and awe. “So smart.” He pet her on the back of her head as he stood.

  “So what did you want to show me?” Daisy asked with only a shadow of interest.

  “CUT!” Sloane called.

  “What now?” Cassidy replied, sounding more like a brat than the unknown yet seasoned young actress she had hired.

  “It’s just … let’s take ten,” she finished, instead of hurling a flurry of unprofessional insults Cassidy’s way. Three days of this constant nonsense had Sloane’s confidence in herself and the project at an all-time low.

  She expected at least a few of the cast and crew to come over and ask her if everything was okay after pouting so noticeably, not that she wanted them to. But even Lila was giving her a surprisingly wide berth.

  Fine. She needed the space. That last scene had given her a lot to process. More than chewing through Cassidy’s stilted performance, it was the flashbacks and triggers returning her to the memory of Liam Wentz luring a little twelve-year-old version of Sloane Alexander into his trailer to grope her.

  It filled her with fury to see how obvious the path to her personal danger had been in retrospect. That reality shined a light on how many grownups had failed her. And none more than her very own mother.

  The way Liam Wentz had made Sloane a target from the very beginning, measuring her vulnerability, like a tailor fitting her for a dress. Choosing a child with a needy mother willing to maybe look the other way on a thing or two if it led to a big enough break — a child who thrived on compliments and could eventually be left alone with him, so that he could do as he wished.

  The way Liam Wentz had slowly gained her trust. Constantly watching her. Learning more about her. Understanding her emotional needs well enough to naturally meet them. A warm and gooey intrusiveness that remained mostly invisible, sometimes even to those who were looking.