Two little girls wearing big hair bows and dresses with pleated skirts came forward, unrolling a length of carpet to make a runway. Jack made a strange noise, like a squeak. I thought he was starting to laugh and elbowed him in the ribs to keep him quiet. But he wasn’t laughing. If anything, he looked like he was going to be sick.
I stared at the screen, trying to see what was so terrible. The music swelled as the little girls walked back to draw the sparkling gauze curtains open.
“We’ll start with Maggie,” said the narrator. “Maggie’s modeling a daring little evening number, perfect for cocktails by the sea…”
The woman strolled forward. She wore a silvery, shimmery dress that went down to her ankles and draped loose around her neck. Diamonds sparkled at her throat and on her hands. She sauntered easily down the runway and turned to show how the back of that silver gown pretty much wasn’t there. My fingers dug hard into the arms of my seat. Maggie, the smiling woman wearing that daring little evening number, was Mama.
Mama looked relaxed and comfortable. More than that. She looked young. She smiled a dazzling smile that I’d never seen on her before. She looked so happy as she walked back slowly to join those other beautiful women.
The announcer kept talking. Other women walked down the stretch of red carpet the little girls had laid down. I didn’t hear anything. I just stared at Mama. She lounged in her seat on the stage and rested her chin in her hand as she watched the other models parade for the camera.
“What’s she doing there?”
“I don’t know,” said Jack softly.
That shook me out of my confusion. “How do you know my mama?”
“Your mama? Where?”
I pointed at “Maggie.”
“Your mother’s in Hollywood?”
The shushing started up all around us. I shook. A woman in a flowery skirt and sleeveless top was parading down the runway now. At the back of the stage, Mama held out a cigarette in a long holder for another woman to light. She looked perfectly at peace as she leaned back and blew a languid cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.
“I gotta get out of here.” I was on my feet and heading up the aisle without even bothering to see if Jack followed me. I was all the way into the lobby before I realized my cheeks were soaked with tears.
I made it as far as the glass-and-bronze front doors. I put my hands on them, but I didn’t have the strength to push. I just stood there, shaking and crying, until Jack came up all quiet next to me.
“It can’t be true,” he whispered. “What was on that screen. It can’t be.”
He’d seen something too. Something or somebody. I knew I should ask about it, but I couldn’t get any words out at all right then. I just made crybaby noises and wiped at my face.
“They’re liars, Callie,” Jack said. “You said it yourself.”
“They told some of the truth,” I whispered.
“Why would they tell the truth about this?” His face went from pasty white to angry red. “This is just another trick. They want you to go with them, that’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it.” That had to be it. I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust any of them.
“Come on,” said Jack. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What’s your hurry, honey?” said a brassy voice from behind the curtain. “You ain’t even seen the main feature yet.”
We both jumped. It was the usherette, the blond woman with her flashlight. She stepped out from behind the curtain at the back of the candy counter, popping her gum and grinning at us with her wide red mouth. There was something different about her this time, a sharp, sly look to her face that hadn’t been there before.
She sauntered around the lit-up counter with its Jujubes and Zagnuts, swinging her light from the loop around her wrist. She had white gloves on her hands and sheer stockings on her perfect legs. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a Busby Berkeley feature, like any minute she’d start dancing and a screen would lift to reveal a dozen other blond girls, dressed just like her.
“We’ve got plenty more to show you.” The usherette grinned straight at Jack and popped her gum. “Both of you.”
“Who’s we?” I whispered.
“Silly! Who do you think we are?”
I knew. But I didn’t have the words. I could just about remember the ones Shimmy used. “You’re the Shining Ones.”
The gum cracked like a gunshot. “We’re the ones who got your mama, sweetie.”
16
“You… you…,” I stammered at the blond woman.
“Oh, yeah.” The usherette leaned her bottom against the counter and crossed one perfect ankle over the other. “Now, maybe where she’s at ain’t quite as pretty as what you saw up on the screen, but she is with us now. Not that we really want her.” She examined her perfect fingernails, which were the exact same shade of scarlet as her mouth. I got the creepy feeling it wasn’t lipstick or polish making them match up like that. “She’s pretty used up now. Not much fun for anybody anymore. But you knew that, didn’t you, sweetie?”
Hearing somebody speak your most low-down thought may be the worst thing that can happen. Anger bunched its fists up tight inside me, ready to strike. “What do you want?”
“You, silly.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, rippling the perfectly fitted shoulders of her red-and-gold jacket. “Not my business. But if you want your mama to go free before anything permanent-like happens to her, you’ll come with me, nice and easy.”
Jack moved up close to me. I wanted to grab his hand, but I didn’t want the usherette to see how scared I was. “We’re leaving, Callie,” he said, his voice iron-hard.
“You sure about that?” The usherette leveled her gaze at him, like she was bringing up her flashlight beam. “You really sure, Jacob?”
“Don’t call me that. Nobody calls me that.”
She jerked her pointy chin toward the theater and grinned wide, showing the pink wad of gum clenched in teeth that were too big for her red mouth. She was Hopper kin, all right.
Whatever she meant, Jack understood. The last of the color left his cheeks. “You’re just a bunch of liars.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong, Jacob. You’ve got something we want, and we’ve got something you want. We’re ready to do a deal. All you’ve got to do is turn around and walk away.” She waved her flashlight toward the front doors. “And she’ll be right out there waiting for you.”
“She?” The penny dropped. I said, “That was Hannah up there, wasn’t it, Jack? Your sister?”
“No, it wasn’t.” He meant to snap those words, I could tell, but his voice was shaking too bad. “Hannah’s dead!”
The usherette shrugged. “You think that matters to the Seelie King? He’s connected, ain’t he? He puts a word in the right ear, and bingo! She’s right back with you, all smiles to see her brother, Jacob.”
Jack stood there as if he’d been struck dead himself. Just his lips moved, shaping one word but making no sound. I didn’t have to hear it. I could feel the word thrumming through the air.
“Walk away, Jacob Hollander,” said the usherette. “All you gotta do is walk away.”
For one terrible moment, Jack hesitated. His eyes darted from me to the door, with the dark, empty street on the other side of that thin piece of glass. My heart rose up slowly, pushing its way into my throat while I watched my only friend in the whole, wide, terrible world make up his mind.
“I ain’t leavin’ without Callie.” Jack spoke the words like he knew he was closing a coffin lid, and I hated myself for having doubted him.
