back door.
“I suppose you’re satisfied,” Portia said to her husband.
He didn’t say anything.
“We got shafted. I certainly hope you’re planning to withdraw your support from his reelection campaign.”
Richard remained silent.
“Well,” Portia said.
She looked at him.
They were now standing beside the Lincoln. The driver stood awkwardly next to them, holding on to the car door as if for ballast.
Courtney stood apart, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her eyes downcast. She didn’t look at either of her parents.
“How dare he abandon us like that,” Portia said. “Who contributed more than we did.”
“He must have come under some kind of scrutiny,” Richard said.
“Probably from someone who has an ax to grind with you.”
“Why don’t you stay out of it, Portia. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh? Now I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Keep out of it.”
“To hell with you, Richard.”
“Most likely he couldn’t risk being compromised,” he said, as if to himself.
“So she has to pay the price,” Portia said, indicating Courtney.
“I don’t mind,” Courtney said, looking up at her parents at last.
“What,” Portia said.
“Please stop arguing. I’ll do what the judge said. I can’t stand this constant arguing.”
“We’re only looking out for your best interests,” Richard said.
“You’re not. You’re making me the scapegoat so that the two of you can continue to fight with each other.”
Neither of her parents said anything.
“You hate each other.”
“How dare you say a thing like that,” Portia said.
“It’s true. You hate him. You never say anything nice to him. You’re horrible.”
“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Richard said.
“You’re no better than she is,” Courtney said.
“Get in the car,” Portia said.
“No.”
“Do you want to be grounded?”
“I’m as good as grounded already. What does it matter?”
Portia walked over to Courtney and angrily grabbed her arm. “I said get in the car.”
“Fuck you,” Courtney said, breaking free of Portia’s grasp.
Portia slapped her.
Courtney reached for her face, fighting back tears.
Richard stepped between them.
“Do as your mother says. Get in the car.”
“Fuck you, too,” she said.
She stepped to the car and opened the front passenger-side door. She looked at her parents with contempt.
“You don’t know anything,” she said.
She got in the car and slammed the door behind her.
Richard and Portia exchanged angry glances. They climbed into the backseat. The driver closed the door after them, quickly got into the car, and drove away.
Jesse stepped from the courthouse shadows. He watched the Lincoln disappear into the late-morning traffic.
When it was out of sight, he got in his cruiser and drove off.
38
The mood on the set was euphoric. The first week had gone smoothly, and the production was both on schedule and on budget.
More important, the rushes had shown Marisol to be delivering the most complex and fully realized performance of her career. Although it was still early in the process, expectation levels for the movie were on the rise.
The Hollywood-based studio executive who was overseeing the production had phoned Marisol to offer his compliments and to schmooze with her.
“Marisol,” said the voice on the other end of the line, “it’s Ross Danielson.”
“Ross,” she said. “What a lovely surprise.”
“I just had to pick up the phone and tell you how amazing the dailies are.”
“Really?”
“You know what a fan of yours I am,” he said. “I’ve never seen you better.”
“Oh, Ross. That’s so sweet of you.”
“I totally mean it. I’m already smelling Oscar.”
Marisol giggled.
“I totally mean it. I’ve mentioned it to Sumner, and he’s instructed me to start formulating a campaign.”
“An Oscar campaign?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just keep up the good work. Bonnie Garvin in marketing and I are trying to clear our schedules so that we can fly out to see you.”
“You mean visit the set?”
“I do.”
“Wow.”
“I’ll let you know,” he said.
Fresh flowers sent from the head of the studio appeared in her motor home. Elaborate gift baskets filled with fine wines, fresh fruit, and exotic cheeses showed up in her hotel room.
Frankie had asked Jesse to stop by at lunchtime, and they were seated together in the catering tent when Marisol poked her head in. She sat down with them, accompanied by Crow.
“I heard you were on set,” she said to Jesse. “I wanted to stop by and say hello.”
Jesse smiled at her.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Marisol said. “Mr. Crow here has looked after me very well.”
Jesse looked at Crow, whose flat-eyed expression revealed nothing.
“Your lovely phone has worked miracles,” she said. “Not a single call from him. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
“Which shows in the work,” Frankie said. “Things are going extremely well.”
“I’m very pleased to hear that,” Jesse said.
“We owe you, Jesse,” Marisol said.
“Not at all,” he said.
She stood.
“I just wanted to stop by and say hello,” she said to Jesse. Then she turned to Crow.
“Mr. Crow,” she said. “I think I have just enough time for a quick nap.”
