Leading Lady by Leigh Ellwood Page B

of
horn-rims to be seen in this crowd. Dina saw handsome young men in
T-shirts advertising various fandoms, curvy women in skimpy
character dress, and older fans weathering age quite well. A few
decades out of the sun, watching the same Mission: Jupiter episodes over and again, was clearly good for the skin.
    Despite the collective musk of hormones
settling in the room, however, this con proved somewhat of a
disappointment compared to others. She had marked only three other
fans since Gregory. Surprisingly, all four fell short of the
prerequisite. Phasers had apparently been set for dud tonight. Sorry, boys , Dina thought as she bid the last fan
farewell, you must be so big to ride.
    Jenna helped her close up shop and counted
the till. “Not a bad haul,” the assistant remarked, fanning a wad
of bills into a metal money box. She counted out the required ten
percent to cover the con’s share and snapped the lid shut.
    “Moneywise, anyway,” Dina grumbled.
    “Sorry, hon.” Jenna pouted. “I blame these
new jeans the kids are wearing. They wrinkle weird. False
advertising.”
    “Yeah, and here I used to think false
advertising meant me endorsing a product on TV that I never used.”
She laughed. It hurt, for she was probably going to bed alone
tonight. Jenna might have sufficed -- the girl was always willing
-- but she’d really wanted a cock.
    “Well, you’ll score at next month’s New
Jersey gig, I just know it. We’ll need to order more Mayda pictures
for that too,” Jenna said. “We should probably get rid of those
other ones; I don’t know why you keep them, Dee. Nobody ever buys
them.”
    “I know.” Dina sighed at the stack of
publicity shots Jenna placed into an accordion folder. The photos
depicted her in regal dress for her only major film role, an epic
that had played to empty movie houses and was never released on
DVD. Dina had no way to sell copies if people didn’t even remember
the film.
    “I didn’t even go see it,” she told Jenna.
“About a month of box office, shown on network television once. Now
it’s locked in an airless vault with other turkeys.”
    “Was it that bad? The costume is gorgeous.
Looks like a big-budget flick.”
    “Not really, more a labor of love sort of
thing for this guy I was seeing. He started out as head writer on Mission : Jupiter before breaking into film. He knew I
always wanted to play a queen, so he wrote the script for me.” Dina
lifted her chin. A sad smile touched her face as she thought of
Alan Widmark. Of all her lovers, he was the only one with whom she
would have considered having a long-term relationship or, dare she
suggest it in a time where interracial relationships were eyed with
scrutiny, marriage. She might have pursued it, too, had he not died
shortly after the film was released. When Dina learned of the car
accident, occurring after Alan had left her house, she couldn’t
bring herself to see the film. The tragedy had done little to boost
box office or inspire sympathy raves. The film simply died with its
director.
    “I was always afraid I’d jinx my career if I
ever saw myself on-screen,” she told Jenna instead. It was the
truth, to an extent, but her life with Alan was her own. “I never
watched an episode of Mission: Jupiter , either. Figured if I
watched myself perform, I’d never work again. Guess I should’ve
done the opposite, huh?”
    Jenna handed her a DVD set of the show’s
first season. “Never too late. Pop in a disc, maybe Spielberg will
call.”
    Yeah, like I have no big plans
tonight. Dina waved away the package with a smirk. She didn’t have plans, thanks to false advertising. “Please,
girl. I haven’t worked for years outside a con, so I wouldn’t know
what to do anymore. And I won’t degrade myself by participating in
one of those reality shows that feature other one-trick ponies,
either.” This was a long-suggested idea she knew Jenna would
revisit. Best to head her off at the pass.
    “It’s a nice