“A well-bred slam,” Doc said.
“Come on,” Thistle said. “My skin feels raw.”
“This one is on the light side,” Doc said, the needle vertical as he pushed out the last of the air. “After a few minutes, you’re going to get over the rush of that pack of wolves out there, and you’ll realize you’re still high from the first one. This is just a little booster.”
“What about the down button?”
“Percocet. Only one.”
I said, “You were great.”
Thistle rolled up the sleeve of her T-shirt. “You got me through it.”
Doc swabbed her arm and injected her, the process reflected in four makeup mirrors simultaneously. Thistle watched herself as though the person in the mirrors was a complete stranger. I wished she wasn’t wearing the dark glasses. I wanted to see her eyes. But then her chin dropped an inch or two, and she looked down at her lap. She dragged in a deep breath and blew it out.
“Listen,” I said, “I’m sorry about that woman-”
She brought the head up as though she was startled, but then she began to laugh. “You really did it, you know? World headlines. I might have been the third or fourth story of the night, but you decking Miss Entertainment World while I’m right next to you, that’s going to be the lead everywhere. We’ll be on the fucking BBC.” She laughed again, pitched a little too high, and took off the sunglasses and wiped her eyes. “Just walk, you tell me. Don’t descend to their level. Don’t give them anything. Show them some class.” She laughed again. “And then you paste that horrible bitch in front of every camera in Los Angeles. You know what? About six o’clock tonight, you’re going to be the most famous burglar in the world.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry.”
“Are you kidding? I haven’t seen anything that funny in years. That was Buster Keaton funny. My burglar. That’s going to be the title of a chapter in my autobiography.”
“How you feeling?” Doc said.
“Like a cloud of gnats. I feel like you can see through me. It’s okay, kind of a new place.”
“Good. One pill, coming up.”
The door to the dressing room opened, and Trey Annunziato came in. Today’s suit was a teal blue that, floating on a pond, would have attracted every female duck for miles. I guessed it at twelve hundred on special, and I doubted she’d bought it on special.
“I want you, and I want you now,” Trey said to me, and then her eyes slid past me and she smiled and said, “Hello, darling, don’t you look pretty today? So fresh and clear-eyed. Your lip is healing nicely.”
“This is really, really class dope,” Thistle said. “And what’s the title of this movie, Thistle’s Lip?” It’s all anybody talks about.” She glanced at herself in the mirror and tugged the lip down. “While we’re at it, don’t yell at my burglar.”
“Your-oh, you mean Mr. Bender here.”
“He got me in here,” Thistle said. “Don’t you forget it.”
Trey stepped forward, claiming the small room as hers. She was maintaining the smile, but it had very sharp corners. “Let’s all just modulate our tone. This is a big morning, and we don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.’
“We already have,” I said. “That mob scene outside-”
Trey held up a peremptory hand. “Thistle was told there would be reporters here,” she said. She leaned a little on the smile. “Weren’t you, dear?”
I turned to Thistle. She raised her shoulders to her ears, pulled down the corners of her mouth, and let her shoulders drop.
“Somebody should have told me,” I said.
“I can’t think of a single reason why,” Trey said in the brightly empty tone of someone who is determined to be pleasant no matter what.
“Because Thistle either wasn’t told or doesn’t remember. If she wasn’t told, I should have known about it. If she forgot, someone should have anticipated that she might, and told me. I was in charge of getting her here.”
“You put yourself in charge,” Trey said. “You put yourself in charge of her last night, too, but that didn’t keep her from doping herself into a coma, did it? Sorry to talk about you in the third person, darling.”
“You were there last night?” Thistle asked, her face screwed up. “I don’t remember you.”
“I wasn’t there. You and I need to talk,” I said to Trey.
“Yes, and I’ve been sending Eduardo to you all morning to tell you that,” she said. “But before we close the subject of the media, let’s make sure that Thistle hasn’t also forgotten the press conference that starts in”-she looked at a watch that was thinner than hope-“about fifteen minutes.”
“No,” Thistle said, mostly breath. Her eyes went to me.
“It’s in your contract. You agreed to do it,”
“No.”
“Let’s not waste time. You need a little makeup and hair, and I’ve got a team outside-”
“You are not hearing me,” Thistle said, more loudly. She swallowed twice before continuing. “I said no. Go away and leave me alone.”
“All right,” Trey said with resignation. “I suppose it’s just as well to get this over now.” She came the rest of the way into the room, edging past Doc, and leaned her backside against the edge of the makeup counter. “I want to get along with you, I really do. I loved you when I was a child. I’m sure a million people have told you this, but I had a lot of problems with my own parents, and all I wanted in the world was to be you, with magic powers that could fix everything-”
“You’re right,” Thistle said. “A million people have told me this.”
“Well, dear, you’re going to hear it again. We actually have a lot in common, did you know that? We both had our whole families depending on us all the time, watching us, making sure we were who they wanted us to be. And I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. I was the daughter of a gangster who only wanted a son. I was given a male name, did you know that?”
“Poor you,” Thistle said. “I was named after a weed.”
“But as much as we have in common and as much as I admire your talent, you are contractually obligated to keep your commitments to me. You’re a competent adult, more or less, who has made an agreement to deliver services in exchange for remuneration. California law is very clear on this: you are nailed to this project. I have a lot of money riding on these movies, dear, quite a bit of which is going to you. You are going to show up and do your job, and when you’re finished you’ll be given two hundred thousand dollars, in cash, which you can do anything you want with. If you cross me-and by that, I mean, if you don’t keep your promises, all your promises-you won’t get a penny. Is that clear? It’s all in your contract, which you have signed and initialed profusely. This press conference is in that contract. If you’re going to go back on your word, if you’re going to breach the contract, now is the time to do it, before I waste any more money.”
Trey crossed her arms, and the diamonds in her watch sparkled. “So, dear, it’s really up to you. Quit right now or play the game.” She pushed herself away from the counter and took a couple of steps closer to Thistle, so she was looking down at her. “You can do it,” she said more softly. “You’re a smart, talented girl. You just go out there and tell them the truth, and we’ll be fine.” She reached out and smoothed Thistle’s hair and removed the sunglasses, and Thistle stood for it, didn’t move her head a fraction of an inch. Her eyes were locked on Trey’s sternum. “What do you say? Let’s get along for a few days and get this done, and then you’ll have all that money. You can go back to your life.”
Thistle turned her face away and said, “You were doing great until then.” She recaptured her shades but didn’t put them on. To me, she said, “What do you think?”
Trey involuntarily raised one eyebrow a millimeter at the question, and her eyes went speculatively from me to Thistle.
“Do I think you can do it?” I asked. “Or do I think you should do it?”