Hard Lines

3. Violet

CHAPTER 3

VIOLET

My alarm rang at four thirty the next morning, and despite the early hour, I sprang out of bed. Why? Because it was time to call Trent. Over the past several months, we’d worked out a system. I’d message him the night before to let him know I planned to call, and he’d get up a few minutes early so we had time to chat before he went to the gym. With Kansas two hours ahead, that meant I had to wake at stupid o’clock, but it was worth it to hear Trent’s voice.

“Violet?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“How are you? How’s the movie going?”

“Oh, it’s going great.” Rule number one, according to Lauren: always stay positive. No man liked a negative Nelly. “I filmed in an office building with Kane yesterday, and tomorrow, I have scenes with Lucas at the police precinct. Except we’re only using a real precinct for the outside. For the interior shots, we’re using a soundstage. David, the director, knows the owner of a new studio here, and…” Oh heck, I was rambling again. “And we’re using that. How’s your case going?”

“Cases, plural. I have a full load at the moment. Pop is quite the slave driver.”

Trent chuckled, but I heard the tiredness in his voice.

“What about that murder case? Is the trial gonna start soon?”

Not much ever happened in Oakwood Falls, population 2,074. Well, 2,073 since old Mrs. Monterey’s heart gave out last week. Trent’s father ran the town’s law firm and picked up work from nearby Oakwood Ridge too, seeing as he had a reputation for being the smartest attorney in the entire township. A sharp mind and a sharper tongue, Mom had always said. Trent was set to follow in his footsteps, and this would be his first time defending a murder case. He was nervous, I knew he was, and with good reason. I’d been following the story online, and according to Mom, everyone in town knew Tommy Jameson had raped Kaydee Bryant behind the Cartwheel Saloon and then stabbed her with a steak knife afterward. DNA evidence didn’t lie, and they’d found the murder weapon in his car, covered in his bloody fingerprints. But Trent said that everyone had the right to a fair trial, and I had to respect him for thinking that way.

“The trial starts in three weeks. They’re keeping me busy with the legwork, but Pop hired an extra paralegal to help.”

“At least you’ll have time for a lunch break. You are eating, right?”

“Your momma still makes us sandwiches every day and brings them to the office.”

As she had done since I was a little girl, for Trent’s pop and his father before him. My mom had become the Vickerses’ housekeeper when I was five years old, and after my dad died when I was twelve, they’d become like our second family.

“I miss Mom’s sandwiches. Out here, it’s all carrot sticks and celery.”

“Are you coming back to visit soon?”

“I’m not sure. The schedule’s so busy.” Plus Lauren said I should play hard to get. No man worth having wants a girl who’s easy, she’d told me time and time again.

“How about for my birthday? Five weeks, don’t forget. And you know what both of our moms are like—they’ll be throwing a party no matter what I say.”

A giggle slipped out because every year, we both said we didn’t want a fuss, and every year, we got a buffet that fed the entire town, plus cake and usually a band.

“At least you’ll only be twenty-eight. Two years until they really push the boat out.”

“It can’t be worse than my twenty-fifth. I think Mom flew in every relative we have, and I didn’t even know who most of them were.”

“I’m sure she’ll think of a way to outdo herself. A costume party, maybe? Or she could get your old baby pictures out, or—”

“Violet, stop. Please. I’d threaten to emigrate, but she wouldn’t believe me because… Well, I have some big news.”

My stomach did a backflip. The last time he’d had big news, he ended up spending six months in London on a study placement, and it had taken me another six months after that to pay off my phone bill.

“What news?”

“I bought a piece of land. Bobby Walden decided to sell off six acres to pay for his wife’s medical bills, and I got it for a good price.”

“Not the field at the bottom of the elephant mountain?”

“Yes, that one.”

Officially, the small hill on the outskirts of town was called Norton’s Rise, but it had a rock near the top that looked like an elephant, and thirteen-year-old me had given it the nickname after I’d huffed and puffed my way up there with Trent. We’d taken a picnic and his old dog and spent the whole day together, just the two of us, before high school got serious and Trent started hanging out with guys his own age rather than the housekeeper’s daughter. And I still remembered what I’d said that day as we sat on a boulder with nothing above us but sky and nothing below us but green.

“One day, I’d love to live here.”

“What, on top of a mountain?” Trent had asked.

“No, silly.” I pointed to the pasture at the bottom, dotted with trees, the narrow stream along one edge glinting in the sunlight. “Down there. I’d build a big house and buy a pony.”

And now Trent had bought the land. Was it fate? Did he remember my words? I almost asked him, but Lauren’s voice echoed in my ears: don’t seem too keen.

“Are you going to build a house there?” I asked.

“A house, somewhere for my cars, possibly a barn. I already have an architect drawing up the plans.”

“I can’t wait to see them.”

“You’ll be the first. Maybe in person? And your mom keeps asking when you’ll be back, too. Haven’t you called her recently?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Busy avoiding what would undoubtedly turn into an interrogation about my new disaster of a job. She’d been so proud when I told her I’d landed a big role, and I didn’t want to admit what a huge error in judgment I’d made. Not to my mom. No, I just wanted to get the job over with and then surprise her with a gang of builders. Thank goodness she didn’t know how to use the internet.

“So I noticed. You’re a YouTube star now. But you should still speak with her.”

Tell me Trent hasn’t seen the pictures of my ass. “Okay, I will. I promise.”

“I have to go, Vi. Sadly, the work won’t do itself.”

“Same. I’ll call you soon, okay? How about Friday?” The day after tomorrow. I could last that long.

“Friday’s good. Break a leg at work.”

If only. Because then I could get out of shooting. Hmm, that was a thought… Was there any kind of non-life-threatening injury I could inflict on myself in the next day or so?

“Bye, Trent.”

Broken bones healed, right?

I used the bathroom, and I was about to consult WebMD for ideas when I heard Debbie calling. She didn’t so much speak as squawk with the voice of a forty-a-day smoker, and I felt an almost insurmountable urge to crawl back under the quilt and bury my head beneath the pillow. It was only six a.m., for Pete’s sake. What had I done wrong this time?

The others—Kane, Lucas, Mikki, and David—were already in the living room by the time I threw on a sundress and jogged down the stairs. Great.

“Are there any cameras?” I asked, peering around the doorjamb.

David shook his head. “Not this morning.”

That hadn’t stopped Mikki from trowelling on a full face of make-up, including false eyelashes, and curling her platinum-blonde hair. Kane hadn’t even bothered with a shirt.

“Has there been a change of plan?”

According to the schedule, I didn’t have any scenes today, just lines to learn and a three-hour session in the gym.

Debbie clapped her hands together. “This is a change for later in the week. As we all know, it’s never too soon to start drumming up publicity, so I’ve arranged some wonderful opportunities. Mikki and Lucas, you’ll be helping out at an animal shelter here in San Francisco on Friday afternoon. They’ve agreed to name a dog after each of your characters; isn’t that wonderful?”

The look on Mikki’s face said it was anything but.

“What about Kane and Violet?” she asked.

“They’ll be flying to LA for a special charity showing of Rules of Play.”

Upset didn’t even begin to cover it. Mikki scowled as if I’d just thrown her favourite curling iron into the swimming pool, and I quickly found myself trying to rectify things.

“Why don’t I visit the animal shelter instead? I love dogs.”

Debbie might have looked confused if her Botox had allowed it. “But Rules of Play is your movie.”

“Yes, and I’ve seen it lots of times.”

Okay, so I hadn’t exactly thought this through.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Violet. All those poor little disabled people want to see you. Selfies, autographs, soundbites—you know the drill.”

“But—”

“You’ll fly down after filming on Saturday. Kane, you’ll be wearing Tom Ford, and Violet, Ishmael’s sending a selection of dresses for you to choose from.” She studied me, her gaze critical. “Actually, we’ll ask a stylist to choose. Yes, that’s a much better idea.”

Even Kane didn’t look too thrilled. “I have a table booked at Chess on Saturday night.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll rearrange it. I know the owner.”

“I don’t mind going to LA,” Lucas tried.

“We need Kane for the column inches.” Debbie leaned over and patted Kane’s hand. “Just try not to snort anything you shouldn’t, sweetie.”

Kane opened his mouth to retort, but David waded in first.

“Now that’s all arranged, we need to get on set. Mikki, Kane, it’s the big post-funeral scene today, so think sad thoughts, people. I need tears.”

Crying? I should have been in this scene because sobbing was my specialty. And when my phone pinged with a message from Lauren after I left the room, I didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or weep. She’d emailed me a whole list of porn videos to watch, everything from a blow job to a clip labelled “double penetration” that made me feel ill without even clicking on it.

“You okay?” Lucas asked from behind me.

I shoved the phone deep into the pocket of my sundress. “Fine.”

“Debbie did that on purpose to get a rise out of Mikki.”

“Do you think so?”

“Naming a dog after her? Conflict means ratings.”

That basic premise underpinned the whole world of showbiz, it seemed.

“In that case, our ratings are gonna be sky high.”