“Have any of them been produced?" Jane said archly to Shelley and they both laughed merrily at the absurdity of anybody asking such a naive question.
“Let's just say it's no coincidence that this movie is being made in Jane's backyard," Shelley said.
Jane gave her a "look-out-you're-going-too-far" glance, and said to Angela, "I'm not officially involved in this production at all. Really.”
It was almost obscene the way Angela's thoughts chased each other greedily across her otherwise lovely face. Here, she was obviously thinking, is somebody of power and influence who could not only get me a plum role, but maybe write one for me.
“Tell me about yourself, uh… Angela, was it?" "Angela Smith. Yes. How nice of you to know my name. And yours is…?"
“Jane Jeffry. Legally, that is," Jane said with a coy laugh that caused Shelley to make a noise like a seal barking.
“Sorry," Shelley said. "I think I inhaled a bug."
Jane had to look away from her to keep from
bursting into seal barks herself. "So, Angela, you don't look like you're too upset about Jake's death," she said, plunging into the heart of the inquisition.
Angela looked taken aback, but by now was so eager to ingratiate herself with Jane that she had to respond. "Oh, but I am. Jake Elder was a legend. The business just won't be the same without him."
“That's odd," Jane said. "That you'd see it in those terms, I mean. I had the impression that you had a more personal relationship with him."
“Oh, no," Angela said, tossing her hair. "Not that Jake didn't want it that way, but no. I had enormous respect for him, of course. You can't help but respect people who have mastered their craft—" A respectful, puppyish look at Jane with this pronouncement. "But there wasn't anything really personal between us. I believe Jake may have wanted — well, to help me along some. He felt I had talent, you see. And wanted to see me succeed."
“That's odd," Shelley said. "I thought I saw you having an argument with him yesterday.”
Angela gave Shelley a look that ought to have made her skin come up in blisters. "It was just a little disagreement about his method," she said. "Nothing at all.”
Jane got a faraway look. A faraway "scriptwriter" look, she hoped. "Disagreements are the heart of fiction," she said meaningfully. "The very bone and meat of stories. Tell me all about it.”
Angela looked like a butterfly pinned to a board. "It was nothing, really. Jake just wanted to help mea little. There was another extra who was supposed to do a scene with Miss Harwell yesterday and she got sick. Measles or something. Jake thought it would be nice if I stepped into her place. I mean, I am here. It would save the producers time from auditioning somebody else. And I have had years of acting lessons, and — anyway, he was just telling me that he'd mentioned the possibility to a few people.”
Jane and Shelley exchanged meaningful glances. This was probably what Jake was wanting the unknown blackmail victim to help with.
“I don't understand," Jane said. "Why would that be cause for a disagreement? I'd think you'd be grateful."
“Oh, I was grateful! Very grateful!" Angela all but shouted. "But I want to make it on my own, you see. By my own talent and skills."
“Come now, surely it doesn't hurt to have a `legend' point those skills out to others, does it?”
Angela squirmed. "Well, I think he was a littleah, forceful about it."
“Forceful?" Shelley asked serenely.
“Offensive, maybe," Angela allowed. "Well, you had to know Jake to understand, but he never did anything subtle. Not with people. With things, yes. He was great with things. You've never seen anybody pay such fanatic attention to detail. I was an extra on another film he did here last year and it was a period piece and there was luggage. You know, old suitcases with stickers on them like people used to collect? And Jake discovered that some of the stickers weren't from the right period. He stopped the whole production to get them painted out. Now, you know nobody in the audience would ever notice a thing like that, but Jake did and he said he wouldn't have his name on a film that allowed something sloppy like that. He shut down production for a whole day to get it fixed right."
“That must have made him popular," Shelley said.
“No, not popular, but he was right. And he was meticulous about being right. That's what made his reputation so great. If a person takes that kind of attention with little things, you know they'll never make big mistakes.”
Jane wasn't so sure she agreed with this, but didn't argue. Angela was obviously working at leading them off the scent and Jane wasn't to be deterred. "So he was great with things, but not with people, you said?”
Angela looked defeated. "Yeah."
“And what had he done regarding you that you objected to?" Jane felt she was stabbing another pin into this beautiful butterfly. But having come this far, they couldn't release her before she confirmed their suspicions.
Angela looked down at her cup of cocoa, the marshmallows now melted down into a repulsive skin on the surface. "He'd threaten people," she said softly. "He didn't say so exactly, but I could tell what he meant. He was such an overbearing turd when he wanted something."
“But he wanted it for you, not himself," Jane pointed out.
Angela laughed bitterly, looking ten years older than she had moments before. "Don't kid yourself. Jake never did anything for anybody without a payoff in mind. He thought he'd do me a favor and I'd fall into bed with him. And in the meantime, half the cast and crew would have hated me for this goddamned 'favor' he was supposedly doing me. Some fucking favor!" she said, bursting into tears.
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Jane patted Angela's hand absently while Angela cried it out. Shelley leaned over and whispered to Jane, "Don't let her off the hook yet. Find out what he had over people.”
Jane whispered back, "A little recess first." Shelley nodded her agreement.
Angela was sniffling into a paper napkin. "I'm — I'm sorry. I didn't mean to — I wasn't—"
“It's all right," Jane said in her best motherly tone. "We artists often wear our hearts and emotions very close to the surface.”
Angela clutched her hand gratefully. "You do understand! I knew you would."
“If you aren't in a scene this morning, what are you doing here?" Jane asked, shifting the subject.
Angela relaxed visibly. She sniffled a few more times and pulled herself together. "I came to watch Miss Harwell do the crucial scene when Dora — that's the character's name — comes back years later and meets the man who betrayed her years before. It's a make-or-break scene any actress would kill for, but be terrified of. Very emotional. Calls for enormous restraint without actually pulling backand will take perfect timing. It's a long, complex scene with a lot of emotional shifts. I thought I might learn a lot from watching her. Whether she gets it right or wrong, there's bound to be a lesson in it."
“Do you think she will get it right?”
Angela thought a while before answering. "I don't know. She's done so many doggy films that she may have lost whatever magic she once had," she finally replied. Now that the subject had turned from her, she had a surgical coldness regarding another's performance.
“Why do you think she made those films?" Jane asked. She wasn't fishing for anything in particular, just trolling for facts and impressions.
“Drugs, I guess," Angela said. "People do a lot of really stupid things for drugs. Not only to get their hands on the money they need, but because it makes their judgment real bad. Who knows? She might have actually thought they were good films."
“She does a lot of drugs?" Shelley asked.