Her contempt for her future brother-in-law practically oozed from her pores. She examined us curiously, still blocking our way into the trailer. I was worried that any second her brain cells would collide and she’d figure out who Trey was. Or he’d blurt it out accidentally.
I heard footsteps behind us and turned to see Nick. Addison spotted him too. He favored her with a slow grin, nodded politely at us.
She put her hands on her hips. “It’s past time for your meds.”
“I was getting dinner before the craft table closed,” he said mildly. “You should get over there yourself, the vegan Caesar’s running low.”
She glared at him. “Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Your brother’s really done it now. First he’s all about speeding up production, now he’s demanding the entire season of scripts up front. Just because a few investors are throwing their weight around.”
“The ones who were at the photo shoot?”
“Yes. Those.”
He sighed. “I suspected as much. Let’s take this inside, okay?”
Addison stood aside reluctantly, and the three of us joined her in the trailer. She watched as Nick went to his makeup table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pill box the size of a large steak. He popped open the compartment and washed down a handful of meds with the remains of his tea just as his phone started beeping. He tossed the pill box back in the drawer and closed it with his hip.
Her expression darkened. “That script schedule is insane. You have to do something.”
“Like what? Quint’s the EP. He can ask for whatever he wants.”
“Talk to him.”
Nick laughed. “Why? I’m not a producer anymore. I take orders like everybody else.”
“But you’re his brother. Surely—”
“We’ll deal with this later, okay babe?”
He put his arm around her waist and steered her from the room. I heard their footsteps on the metal stairs, hushed conversation.
I dropped my voice. “Was she telling the truth?”
Trey thought about that. “She didn’t read as lying.”
“You do realize that if Nick is innocent, she’s the one who had the most to gain from Jessica’s death?”
“I do.”
I wasn’t sure he did. Except for Nick, Trey was having a hard time processing the Hollywood people. I wondered if their time in the land of make-believe had fuzzied up their sense of fact and fiction. Or maybe they existed in a world where things were true simply because they wanted them to be. Either way, Trey wasn’t getting good traction.
Nick returned with a smear of lipstick on his lower lip and a big grin. “Thanks for keeping everything on the down low. Addison worries enough as it is.”
She also keeps you under her thumb, I thought, but did not say this. She was petitioning to be his conservator. Being able to demonstrate that she had his physical care under wraps would go in her favor, even if from the outside, it looked a little overzealous.
“Has something happened?” I said.
He picked up his tea again. “Quint’s asking for the whole of Season Two, thirteen scripts, before they start filming the first episode.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“It is. It’s also highly unusual. Usually we film maybe one or two scripts ahead of the writers, but apparently some investors want to see the whole thing upfront.”
“Because of Portia’s cliffhanger?”
Nick took a sip of tea, thought for a few seconds. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s weird, that’s all, and Addison is right to be unhappy. But I’m not sure what I can do about it. Like I keep saying, not a producer anymore.” He plunked his mug on the counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So. What did you find at the house?”
Trey stepped forward. “The evidence supports your version of events.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“You seemed surprised,” I said.
“Well…yeah. I mean, I know how things went down, but I wasn’t expecting there to be evidence. What kind of evidence?”
Trey pulled out his notebook. He explained in succinct terms. Nick sat in the stylist chair and listened until Trey finally snapped the notebook shut.
“The next step is recovering the security cameras and whatever object might have caught the bullet,” he said. “Do you remember what was standing between you and the house?”
“No. It was dark, and I was focused on other things. Like not getting shot.”
“Could you find out?”
He flashed a wan smile. “Why?”
“To recover the bullet. If possible.”
“Why?”
Trey tried to remain patient. “For the crime scene techs.”
Nick laughed. “Oh wait, I get it. You took me seriously about calling the police.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not doing that. I never was. That was a bluff to get you out here.”
Trey’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Talbot—”
“I’ll tell Quint what you told me, and he’ll tell Finn. She’ll do whatever it is she does and keep it off the official record. Because I am not—do you hear me?—not going to put myself at the mercy of the Atlanta PD ever again.”
“You don’t seem to understand the seriousness of what I’m telling you.”
Nick took another swig of the now-cold tea. “When I was in high school, I read this story. ‘Appointment in Samarra.’ Do you know it?”
“This is no time for—”
Nick ignored him. “A man sees Death in the marketplace, so he runs. Gets on his camel or whatever and takes off. Gets to Samarra. Starts looking for a place to hide.”
“Mr. Talbot—”
“And then, bam, there’s Death again. The man gives up. Fine, he says. Take me. But first tell me what you were doing at the marketplace earlier. And Death says…”
Nick stopped talking, frowned. I heard it then too, footsteps pounding up the metal steps. Not Addison’s. I spun around, just as the door flung open and a man burst into the room—dark tangles under a burglar hoodie, manic eyes, cell phone brandished like a blazing sword.
He pointed it at Nick. “Time to answer for your sins, you murdering son of a bitch!”
Chapter Twenty-two
I took one look at the guy and
