asleep.
Tim smiled when he looked at the scene—the mean girl undone by her own gluttony. He took another sip of champagne, buttoned his shirt, then picked up the champagne bottle and left the room.
As he made his way back through the house a sea of twentysomethings were drinking and dancing. (Billie Holiday had been replaced on the CD carousel by Beyoncé). He caught sight of Sedra and Jack Weasley seated side by side on the piano bench, engaged in an animated conversation. As he got closer he heard fragments of their discussion above the din. Sedra was saying, “…She’s dead…Missie too…Have to be discreet…So deserve their fate…”
And Jack was saying something that included, “…Bloody hell! Don’t get me involved…”
Just as Tim thought he was going to hear words that would connect into a full-fledged thought, Polly and Placenta were at his side. “Let’s blow,” Polly said. “I can’t bear these people. But I’ve gathered enough dish to make Billy Bush’s hair turn Anderson Cooper gray!”
“I’ll send her a note in the ay-em,” Polly said, not bothering to say a proper good-bye to her hostess. She led Tim and Placenta through a crush of party crashers and out the front door. Finally ensconced in the car, silence filled the space as they made their way down the narrow lane and out onto the serene streets of Fryman Canyon. As Tim guided the vehicle onto Laurel Canyon and up toward serpentine Mulholland Drive, Polly yawned. It had been a long day and a seemingly endless evening. Their thoughts were all bottlenecked somewhere between their brains and their tongues, and letting one word escape felt risky. But by the time they reached the crest of the Hollywood Hills, one by one they began to volunteer comments on the party.
“Cute house,” Tim said, finding something positive to say.
Polly agreed. “Missie has lovely instincts for interior decorating,” she said. “Her mother seems to have adapted well to her near blindness. Did you notice how easily she found the champagne flute that—if I’m not mistaken, Missie intentionally placed at the far edge of the table beside her chair? It was practically balancing and waiting for the slightest vibration to fall.”
“Missie seems very attentive toward Elizabeth,” Placenta said. “But what was that banshee scream from the kitchen?”
“And it was fun to meet Dana Pointer,” Tim said. “We had quite a chat—before she passed out. She wants to take over Hollywood.” He took his eyes off the road for a second and looked at his passengers in the rearview mirror.
“Now there’s a troublemaker,” Polly quickly added. “She came right out and said she was glad that Trixie Wilder was dead!”
“She’s a pit bull, alright,” Placenta said. “It doesn’t surprise me one bit that she and Sedra are so close. Birds of a feather.”
Their barbed comments began to overlap. “Perhaps Missie and Dana have bloodstained hands,” Polly said.
“Sees a shrink ’cause she hates her mother,” Placenta said.
“Mom’s on a ton of meds. The kitchen looks like Rush Limbaugh’s personal pharmacy,” Tim said.
Polly denounced Missie as a social climber, while Placenta dismissed Elizabeth’s near blindness as an attention grabber, and Tim expressed skepticism over Dana’s bluster that she had the power to have a role rewritten expressly for Sedra.
By the time they arrived back at Pepper Plantation, they were no longer tired. What they wanted to do was continue to tear apart the young people who were now running Hollywood, and to contemplate the fireworks that awaited the cast and crew on Monday when Dana Pointer, Missie Miller, and Sedra Stone showed up for work.
Chapter 8
M onday morning arrived with clear California skies, mild summer temperatures, and an ominous rumbling of the earth beneath the Detention Rules! film location at Gary High School in Santa Clarita, California. The good will and enthusiasm that had accompanied
Tim smiled when he looked at the scene—the mean girl undone by her own gluttony. He took another sip of champagne, buttoned his shirt, then picked up the champagne bottle and left the room.
As he made his way back through the house a sea of twentysomethings were drinking and dancing. (Billie Holiday had been replaced on the CD carousel by Beyoncé). He caught sight of Sedra and Jack Weasley seated side by side on the piano bench, engaged in an animated conversation. As he got closer he heard fragments of their discussion above the din. Sedra was saying, “…She’s dead…Missie too…Have to be discreet…So deserve their fate…”
And Jack was saying something that included, “…Bloody hell! Don’t get me involved…”
Just as Tim thought he was going to hear words that would connect into a full-fledged thought, Polly and Placenta were at his side. “Let’s blow,” Polly said. “I can’t bear these people. But I’ve gathered enough dish to make Billy Bush’s hair turn Anderson Cooper gray!”
“I’ll send her a note in the ay-em,” Polly said, not bothering to say a proper good-bye to her hostess. She led Tim and Placenta through a crush of party crashers and out the front door. Finally ensconced in the car, silence filled the space as they made their way down the narrow lane and out onto the serene streets of Fryman Canyon. As Tim guided the vehicle onto Laurel Canyon and up toward serpentine Mulholland Drive, Polly yawned. It had been a long day and a seemingly endless evening. Their thoughts were all bottlenecked somewhere between their brains and their tongues, and letting one word escape felt risky. But by the time they reached the crest of the Hollywood Hills, one by one they began to volunteer comments on the party.
“Cute house,” Tim said, finding something positive to say.
Polly agreed. “Missie has lovely instincts for interior decorating,” she said. “Her mother seems to have adapted well to her near blindness. Did you notice how easily she found the champagne flute that—if I’m not mistaken, Missie intentionally placed at the far edge of the table beside her chair? It was practically balancing and waiting for the slightest vibration to fall.”
“Missie seems very attentive toward Elizabeth,” Placenta said. “But what was that banshee scream from the kitchen?”
“And it was fun to meet Dana Pointer,” Tim said. “We had quite a chat—before she passed out. She wants to take over Hollywood.” He took his eyes off the road for a second and looked at his passengers in the rearview mirror.
“Now there’s a troublemaker,” Polly quickly added. “She came right out and said she was glad that Trixie Wilder was dead!”
“She’s a pit bull, alright,” Placenta said. “It doesn’t surprise me one bit that she and Sedra are so close. Birds of a feather.”
Their barbed comments began to overlap. “Perhaps Missie and Dana have bloodstained hands,” Polly said.
“Sees a shrink ’cause she hates her mother,” Placenta said.
“Mom’s on a ton of meds. The kitchen looks like Rush Limbaugh’s personal pharmacy,” Tim said.
Polly denounced Missie as a social climber, while Placenta dismissed Elizabeth’s near blindness as an attention grabber, and Tim expressed skepticism over Dana’s bluster that she had the power to have a role rewritten expressly for Sedra.
By the time they arrived back at Pepper Plantation, they were no longer tired. What they wanted to do was continue to tear apart the young people who were now running Hollywood, and to contemplate the fireworks that awaited the cast and crew on Monday when Dana Pointer, Missie Miller, and Sedra Stone showed up for work.
Chapter 8
M onday morning arrived with clear California skies, mild summer temperatures, and an ominous rumbling of the earth beneath the Detention Rules! film location at Gary High School in Santa Clarita, California. The good will and enthusiasm that had accompanied
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