He took another sip of bourbon. “Tricia Talbot. She threw in the towel.”
“What?”
“Quit. Last night.”
Sandy found herself smiling. “You’re kidding. Why’d she quit?”
“We had...creative differences.”
“What do you mean?”
“She wanted to do things her way, not mine. I refused to give in, so she walked.” He grinned. “Not only did she walk, but she drove. She packed up and hightailed it back to San Francisco last night, leaving us sans a Janice. And we start filming tomorrow. I need you tomorrow, bright and early.”
“Can’t you just make a phone call, or something, and get yourself a real actress?”
“Why would I want to do that, when you’re here?”
“I’m not going to be in your movie, that’s why.”
“You must be.”
“No, I mustn’t.”
“You’ll be perfect. You’ll be Janice Crogan.”
“Why don’t you get Janice? She’s right here in town.”
“She won’t be in the movie.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Sandy stared at him, shocked.
“Twenty-five thousand?” she asked, barely able to speak, her voice a whisper.
“For just ten or twelve weeks of work.”
She murmured, “Can’t.”
“And why can’t you?”
“Just can’t. I’m not any actress.”
“You don’t need to be an actress. I’ll make you a star.”
She smirked. “Oh, yeah. A star. Every day and twice on Sundays.”
“You’ve got the look, Margaret.”
“I don’t look much like Janice.”
“There’s no reason why you should. We’ll color your hair, of course. You’ll be spectacular as a blonde.”
“Think so?”
“I know so.”
She grinned.
“And what’s that about?” Marlon asked.
She imagined herself saying, “I’ve got a little secret for you, buddy. Underneath this ugly brown dye job, I am a blonde.”
That’d sure open a can of worms.
“Is something amusing?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t want to turn into a dumb blonde.”
“It would only be for the role.”
“I don’t want the role.”
“I think you do, Margaret. I know you do. Everybody wants to be a star. And you have what it takes.”
“No, I don’t.”
“The look.”
“Bull.”
Marlon took another sip of bourbon, then leaned sideways and set his glass on. the lamp table. “Let me show you something,” he said, getting to his feet. “Do you have a mirror?”
“What kind of mirror?”
“The largest you have.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Come, come, come.” He swept toward Sandy, reaching for her.
She put out a hand to signal him back.
He took hold of it and drew her after him, striding toward the hallway.
“Hey, what’re you doing?”
“We’re off to see the mirror!”
“My dad’ll be home!”
“I doubt it. I’m a director. I know stage props when I see them. A smoker doesn’t live in this trailer.”
“He does, too.”
“My nose tells me otherwise. And it’s a wise nose.”
He pulled her into the bathroom and halted in front of the medicine cabinet mirror. “Surely we can do better than this!”
He barged past her and towed her along.
“You live here alone,” he said. “Admit it.”
“I do not.”
“Just like The Little Girl Who Lived Down the Lane. Jody Foster. Did you see the movie?”
“No.”
“Bet you did.”
He stopped in front of Eric’s room.
He reached for the door.
Sandy gave his hand a hard jerk, tugging him away from it. “Not in there,” she gasped. “It’s my dad’s room.”
“Ah, Dad.”
“I’ve got a big mirror in my room,” she blurted.
“Splendid!”
This time, Sandy led the way, rushing onward, pulling Marlon through the doorway of her bedroom. She stepped around the end of the bed and drew him to her side. They both faced her dresser.
And the mirror above it.
“Fabulous, ” Marlon whispered. “But we need light. It’s far too dark in here. We must have light for the star to shine.” He let go of her hand and said, “Stay. Observe the mirror. Observe yourself in the mirror.”
She went ahead and looked at herself.
“Big deal,” she muttered.
She could see Marlon in the mirror, too. He stood by the doorway, his hand on the light switch. “Behold!” he proclaimed in a deep, resonant tone. Then he flicked the switch.
Crimson light filled the room.
“My lord,” Marlon said.
“It’s just a red bulb,” Sandy explained.
“How remarkably gawdy.” In the mirror, she watched him glide toward her, his arms spread like wings, his shiny black shirt fluttering. The shirt looked purple in the red glow.
She felt a tingle creep up her back.
Why does he have to act so weird?
He swooped in behind Sandy and put his hands on her shoulders.
He stood directly behind her. She could only see the ends of his fingers. The rest of Marlon was hidden behind her body.
Then his head tilted sideways and she saw his chubby face in the mirror as if she were wearing it on her left shoulder.
“My glorious Margaret,” he intoned, his voice thick and low. “My star.” He started rubbing her shoulders. “You shall be my star.”
“Don’t think so,” she muttered.
“Imagine yourself on the big screen,” he said. His hands gently, firmly massaged her shoulders and the sides of her neck. “That’s no mirror in front of us, that’s a movie screen. And there you are, Margaret Blume, two stories high.”
“I just look like I’ve got a real bad sunburn,” she said, and yawned. Though she still felt a little jittery, the massage made her lazy, groggy. Her head began to wobble with the motions of the rubbing.
Then Marlon kissed the side of her neck.
“Hey, don’t,” she murmured.
“Watch the mirror,” he said, his breath tickling her skin.
“Stop it.”
“It’s all right. Nothing’s wrong. Look at yourself. See how beautiful you are. See what your audiences will see.” His reflection smiled at her. Then his hands slid down over her shoulders, down her chest. “You are so glorious,” he whispered, and closed his hands on her breasts. He rubbed them, gently squeezed them through the fabric of her shirt.
Sandy squirmed. “Quit it,” she said.
“You don’t mean that. It feels very good, doesn’t it? I know that it does.”
In the mirror, she saw herself squirm and grab his hands and try to peel them off her breasts.
But he kept them on her.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Don’t fight it. It feels good.”
“No!”
He suddenly released her breasts, ripped her shirt open and jerked it backward and down off her shoulders. She glimpsed herself bare to the waist, her skin bathed in scarlet light, her breasts lurching as she tried to twist away.
He grabbed her arms and pinned them against her sides.
“Look at yourself,” he said, still sounding very calm.