Crashed

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?”

“Can,” she said. “We both know I shouldn’t.”

“I think you can. But I agree that you shouldn’t.”

“Miss Thing here has made it clear that I should. That I have to, if I want grocery money. I want you with me.”

“I think the press has seen enough of Mr. Bender today,” Trey said.

“Hold on,” Thistle said, without looking at her. “Just hold on one fucking minute. You’re used to being agreed with, so this might be hard for you, but here it is.” She swung her head around to face Trey. “I may have to do the things I said I would, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do them my way. You want this to happen, right?”

Trey was glaring at me, as though I were to blame for Thistle’s resistance. “Of course.”

Suddenly something happened to Thistle. It took only an instant; there seemed to be no transition at all. Her face mirrored Trey’s expression precisely, and her spine straightened in exact mimicry of Trey’s stance. When she spoke, her voice sounded uncannily like Trey’s. “Of course,” she said. “Of course you do. You have money invested. Then go away. Go manage someone.”

Startled, Trey took a step back.

“You won, okay?” Thistle/Trey continued. She even had Trey’s hand gestures, the way she held her head. “Junior will help me do this, just like he helped me get in here. And it won’t be in fifteen minutes, it’ll be in half an hour. Or a little more. You go away and make money, and let the makeup people get in here. Doc,” she said, turning, “I’m feeling that little elevator, so I want an extra smoothie. Or maybe a couple, all things considered.” She looked back at Trey. “Are you still here?”

Trey regarded her for a moment, then nodded. “That’s a cute trick,” she said. “Let’s hope you’re that good on camera.” Then she turned to me, and her voice when she said, “Mister Bender?” could have frozen meat.

“Coming.” Trey was out the door. “I’ll be back,” I said to Thistle.

With Trey gone, she was herself again. She slumped back into the chair as though she’d run a hundred yards. “Good, because if you’re not, they’re going to have to carry this whole chair onstage.”

I followed Trey out of the room and into the hallway. Tatiana, leading the makeup and hair crew into the room, gave me a questioning glance and then looked at Trey’s rigid back as she marched down the hall. “If you were a stock,” she whispered, “would you advise me to buy or sell?”

“Sell,” I said. “But I don’t think you could get anything for it.”

Before trying to catch up with Trey, I made a ninety-second telephone call. Essentially just the studio’s address and a question that might prove useful in half an hour or so.

24

Sew this back into your Leonardo

“I want an explanation,” Trey said, her hands folded in front of her, her back plumb-straight. We were back in the classroom set, facing each other over the teacher’s desk, and she was the image of the strict third-grade teacher who’s just found a bad word on the chalkboard. I suppose I was expected to feel chastened, but it was hard for me to look at her without seeing Thistle’s extraordinary impersonation.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like explained? I’m reasonably well-informed on a relatively broad spectrum of subjects.”

“Let’s begin with what’s going on between Thistle and you.” “That’s easy. There’s nothing going on between Thistle and me.”

“She looks at you every time I ask her a question. She consults with you. I’m paying her, and she’s turning to you for advice. I want to know why.”

“She’s got nobody in the world,” I said. “I made her laugh this morning. I dragged her through that pack of parasites when we arrived. I’m the temporary hero. She’s not exactly aces in the self-confidence department, and she needs to turn to somebody. Right now, I’m it.”

“For someone with no self-confidence, she told me to fuck off rather effectively.”

“She used to be a star. Stars are good at that.”

“Well, I don’t like it, you siding with her like that. You’re working for me, not her.”

“I’ve got two answers to that. The first is that she needs a friend or she’s not going to be functional, and she’s chosen me. The second is that you have a much bigger problem than Thistle telling you to fuck off.” I reached into my pocket and took out the snippet of painting. “Here. You can sew this back into your Leonardo.”

She looked down at it but made no move to take it. “I told you to give that to your lookout.”

I dropped it onto the desk. “He won’t need it any more. Somebody shot him.”