The Next To Die Part 9

Joanne had gone to bed early. She'd still been asleep when Avery headed off for the studio this morning. He'd hated leaving her alone.

It was extra infuriating that he had to be here-while Traci hid in her trailer and held up production. An awful thought occurred to him: You're dealing with two very temperamental actresses You're dealing with two very temperamental actresses. He refused to put his wife in the same league as Traci Haydn. Besides, Joanne was under a tremendous strain right now. This latest news about their video wouldn't help any.

Avery dialed home. The machine switched on. "Joanne? If you're there, pick up...." He paused. "Okay, some things are starting to happen with the video. You can page me on the set-"

There was a click on the line. "Avery?"

"You're home...."

"I'm screening calls," she said briskly. "The phone hasn't stopped ringing since eleven. And there are, one, two, three-I'm looking out the living room window-six TV news trucks parked outside the front gate." TV news trucks parked outside the front gate."

"Then I guess you know already," he said. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing okay, believe it or not."

"You sure?" he asked.

She laughed. "Yes, I haven't smashed one single gla.s.s all morning."

"You had me worried last night," he admitted.

"Huh, I was pretty worried myself. But now that it's finally happening and the awful wait is over, I feel we can handle this. Really. Sorry if I gave you a scare. But c'mon, honey. You're married to an actress. The theater's in my blood. I can't have just a little hissy fit. Last night, Joanne Lane was playing to the balcony. But I promise, no more theatrics."

"Uh-huh," was all Avery said. The actress hadn't quite convinced him that she was all right. He was still worried about her. "Better not talk to any reporters until I get there," he said. "I'll be home soon."

The number of reporters and TV news vans outside their front gate had doubled in the last couple of hours. The police had arrived to redirect traffic on the block. Avery couldn't believe that a private home video of a married couple having s.e.x was causing such a sensation.

"Is this a slow news day or what?" He nodded at the front windows. "It's like the Miracle of Fatima just happened out there."

Steve Bensinger chuckled. The public relations guru sat with them at their breakfast table. He had a tan complexion and a moussed mop of brown hair. "You're right, Avery," he said, sipping his coffee. "It's a slow news day. But your increasing star power is more of a factor. Plus you and Joanne are very high profile in print and on TV with those gun-control endors.e.m.e.nts."

Joanne slouched back in her chair. "But how did it get so crazy so fast? This morning, it was only a blind item in Yvonne Chase's column."

"The thing just s...o...b..lled, Joanne." Steve checked some of his notes. "Several stills from the video began circulating on the Intranet this morning. The owner of a video store in West Hollywood called into a radio station saying that within two hours he sold eighty-seven copies of the video at forty bucks a pop. News services picked it up within minutes."

"So what can we do by way of damage control?" Avery asked.

"Well, I haven't seen the video yet, but I viewed some of the stills floating around the Internet."

Joanne squirmed at this news. Avery put his arm around her.

Steve glanced at his notes again. "The pictures are, of course, explicit, and undeniably you two. The good news is-well, you both looked great. We can make that work for us. You're a hot, s.e.xy couple, who are married and very much in love. You made a video for your own fun, and it got stolen." He sipped his coffee. "I want you to keep that in mind during interviews. You did it for fun.... It was supposed to be private...."

Avery stared at him. "You want us to talk to the press about this?"

"Practically every newspaper and magazine outside of the Christian Science Monitor Christian Science Monitor wants to interview you two. Ditto the talk shows. We should be selective. I suggest you keep it down to very few-" wants to interview you two. Ditto the talk shows. We should be selective. I suggest you keep it down to very few-"

"How about keeping it down to none? none?"

"It's part of 'damage control,' Avery," Steve said. "Now, I suggest you appear on Oprah, Jay Oprah, Jay, and Today Today. And in print, give People People magazine a few hours. They'll put you both on the cover, guaranteed." magazine a few hours. They'll put you both on the cover, guaranteed."

Avery frowned at him. Though Steve was right, of course. They couldn't hang their heads in shame and go into hiding. They'd be playing right into the hands of whoever was behind this.

"Well, I'll consent to some interviews," Avery finally said. "But I don't see why Joanne has to subject herself to any of this-"

"Now, hold on," Joanne said. "I can talk for myself. And I want to do it. You shouldn't be on these interviews alone, Avery. Only the two of us together can make it work. Maybe we can turn this whole thing around."

He took hold of Joanne's hand. "You sure you're up to it?"

She laughed. "Darling, last year, I pulled off six performances-and a matinee-while fighting a fever of a hundred and two. I think I can handle a few interviews. This will be good. I'm all for it."

Avery nodded and tried to smile. He listened to her and Steve hatch a media strategy. But all the while, he kept looking across the kitchen-at a faint wine stain on the wall.

Avery and Joanne agreed to do the talk-show circuit. They wouldn't air any theories about who might have stolen the home video and why. Avery figured they should gloss over references to the break-in and the hara.s.sing phone calls. Those were police matters. Too much focus there, and they'd come across as victims. They had to keep the interviews light and entertaining.

Steve booked them on the talk shows he'd recommended. And People People arranged to interview and photograph them at home. All these commitments would be fulfilled in the next seventy-four hours-including a trip to Chicago for arranged to interview and photograph them at home. All these commitments would be fulfilled in the next seventy-four hours-including a trip to Chicago for Oprah Oprah.

Avery's agent reported that her phone was ringing off the hook with movie offers-hot, leading-man roles in big-budget productions. Joanne's agent in New York described a similar phenomenon at her office. Several publishers wanted them to write their autobiographies-as well as a how-to manual for married couples who wanted to keep the honeymoon alive. There was also an idea for a "tasteful, coffee table book" of them nude and making love, shot by a big-name photographer. They had countless proposals from clothing manufacturers, and cosmetic, cologne, and underwear companies to be spokesmodels. They politely declined all offers. No one could accuse them of cas.h.i.+ng in on this scandal. Almost no one.

"I'm Mrs. Richard Marshall, but you can call me Elsie."

"Hi, Elsie!"

"G.o.d bless you," Elsie said, blowing a kiss to her studio audience. Today, she wore a royal blue First Lady suit and pearls. She picked up a newspaper on the desktop. "Well, I don't know about anyone else," she said, with a roll of her eyes. "But I'm pretty disgusted by all the attention these two-well, p.o.r.nographers p.o.r.nographers-have been receiving the last couple of days." She held up the front page of a tabloid with the headline: INDECENT EXPOSURE: AVERY COOPER AND WIFE BARE ALL IN EXPLICIT HOME VIDEO INDECENT EXPOSURE: AVERY COOPER AND WIFE BARE ALL IN EXPLICIT HOME VIDEO.

"Can you believe that some people actually consider these two 'role models for romance'?" Elsie asked. "I'm just a housewife, but it seems to me that decent people-people we're supposed to admire-don't make s.e.xually explicit videotapes of themselves and accidentally accidentally let them get duplicated thousands of times for wide distribution. And they seem just as proud as punch about it! Did you see them laughing and making jokes on let them get duplicated thousands of times for wide distribution. And they seem just as proud as punch about it! Did you see them laughing and making jokes on The Today Show The Today Show this morning? I could barely eat my breakfast, watching those two snickering about this-pardon me-'s.e.x tape.'" Elsie shook her head and sighed. "Now, from what I understand, Avery Cooper and Joanne Lane are supposed to have-what do they call it-a this morning? I could barely eat my breakfast, watching those two snickering about this-pardon me-'s.e.x tape.'" Elsie shook her head and sighed. "Now, from what I understand, Avery Cooper and Joanne Lane are supposed to have-what do they call it-a bicoastal marriage? bicoastal marriage?" She glanced stage left, off camera. "Drew? Is that right? Bicoastal? Bicoastal?"

Drew Marshall ambled onto the set to a swelling of applause. He wore a blue Armani suit today. "That's right, Mom, bicoastal," he said. He kissed her, then took the newspaper, glanced at it, and shook his head. "It means they're married, but live on opposite sides of the country. In most cases, it also means they can date other people. It's like how most of these so-called 'gay marriages' are. They say they're together, but they sleep with other people."

"Well, that's not right," Elsie muttered.

"No, it isn't. You know, Avery Cooper and Joanne Lane are the ones who do those ads endorsing restrictions on our const.i.tutional right to bear arms."

"Oh, I've seen those commercials. They're awful!" Elsie said.

Drew chuckled. "Well, at least they have their clothes on in the commercials. We can be grateful for that."

Elsie frowned. "Wasn't Avery Cooper the one in that TV movie glorifying an abortion doctor?"

"That's right, Mom. And in his next movie, he plays a h.o.m.os.e.xual!"

"Well, all I can say is, 'It figures.'"

"That G.o.dd.a.m.n homemade p.o.r.n video has practically doubled their popularity! What the f.u.c.k is going on?"

His voice carried over the cries of seagulls and the sound of water lapping against the docks. A limousine and a rented Ford Taurus were parked side by side in the marina lot. The uniformed driver and another man leaned against the front hood of the Taurus. The second man was forty-five, with dark receding hair and a chalky complexion. He puffed on a cigarette, and glanced over his shoulder at the limo. The back window was cracked open, and he could hear his boss getting chewed out by one of the very-top dogs.

"The idea behind stealing and distributing the video was to ruin their reputations!" the bigwig went on. "But now they're America's G.o.dd.a.m.n f.u.c.king sweethearts. Their stupid gun-control commercials are p.i.s.sing off my campaign contributors. I've made promises to them. And you can bet your a.s.s, I'm going to deliver. Now, this p.o.r.no-flick scheme was your f.u.c.king piece-of-s.h.i.+t brainchild. I want you to fix this. I want you to fix them them. I want that f.a.ggot, Cooper, to suffer. I want his c.u.n.t of a wife to suffer. I want them disgraced. I want them both to wish they were f.u.c.king dead! Do you hear me?"

Propping his foot back against the rental car's front b.u.mper, the man took another drag from his cigarette. "Just listen to him in there," he said to the chauffeur, cracking a little smile. "h.e.l.l, if old Elsie heard the way her son was talking, she'd wash his mouth out with Lifeboy."

On Friday, November 7, at 5:52 P.M. P.M., a debate ensued over the Internet Movie-talk line about a film remake: JOHN S.: Anne Heche played it too light. Janet Leigh was much better...with all that guilt and angst.PAT: Plus Janet Leigh has a better set of knockers.KARLA: Who is this pig? I liked Anne Heche's interpretation.RICK: I don't go to movies that star lesbians. Request private chat with Pat, regarding another Hitchc.o.c.k film.

The following private mailbox discussion took place a minute later: PATRIOT: What's going on?AMERICKAN: SAAMO high-ups not pleased over results of campaign to humiliate A.C.... Early reaction shows increase in his popularity due to video exposure...Very upsetting...Plans to enlist Leslie Bonita Stoddard to cooperate in another scenario are now a no-go...thorough background check on L. B. Stoddard shows she contributed $25,000 to handgun-ban campaign last yr. & also had abortion 3 yrs. ago.PATRIOT: A b.i.t.c.h like that doesn't deserve 2 live.AMERICKAN: Exactly...new plans re: A.C. under way...Details follow...SAAMO Lieut. signing off.

Nine.

SCENE 28: INTERIOR: RACHEL'S LIVING ROOM-NIGHT Rachel is at her desk, hunched over piles of legal briefs and a fast food dinner that she didn't finish. Enter Dianne. She comes behind Rachel and kisses the top of her head.DIANNECome on, Rache. It's getting late. Let's go to bed.RACHELIn a minute.DIANNE (kissing the back of her neck) (kissing the back of her neck)I know how important this case is. But so is our relations.h.i.+p. Now, take a break and come to bed.Rachel surrenders, then turns and kisses her pa.s.sionately. She unb.u.t.tons Dianne's blouse and kisses her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.Quick Dissolve to: SCENE 29: INTERIOR: RACHEL'S BEDROOM-NIGHT Rachel and Dianne are in bed, making love. Various shots show the two women in the throes of pa.s.sion....

"Oh, s.h.i.+t," Dayle grumbled, quickly closing the ma.n.u.script. She was considering the role of Rachel, the fict.i.tious name they'd given to the real-life lesbian lawyer. This was Dayle's first glance at the script, tentatively t.i.tled In Self-Defense In Self-Defense.

For the past few days, she'd been trying to follow everyone's advice, and stick to the business of making movies. She didn't hire a bodyguard, but advised her chauffeur, Hank, that his watchman skills were required. She let him carry a 9-mm Glock. Hank a.s.sured her that he'd been practicing his marksmans.h.i.+p, and was ready for any kind of "protective service emergency." In other words, he was just itching for someone to take a potshot at her so he could put his newly rehoned skills to use.

Nick Brock had called long distance from Estelle Collier's old hometown, Monoma, Wisconsin. He'd left a brief message on Dayle's machine: "Greetings from Dullsville, U.S.A. So far, all I got is that Estelle had a fat, miserable childhood. I hear later in high school, she was a pothead and bolted before graduating. n.o.body knows where. I'll try to dig up more. Ciao, Ms. Sutton."

There hadn't been any more incidents like the one up on her roof. But if things seemed calm for now, her playing a lesbian in this next film would be inviting trouble back. The trades had already reported her and Avery Cooper's interest in the project.

Dayle had the script in her lap, open to the s.e.x scene. She sat on the steps outside her trailer while the crew set up the next shot. It was a scene with Maggie McGuire, an Oscar-winning, forty-year film veteran, who played her mother. Maggie wasn't averse to taking on small, juicy character roles like this one in Waiting for the Fall Waiting for the Fall.

Her nose in a crossword puzzle, Maggie sat at Dayle's side, in a "star" chair with her name on it. For seventy-one years old, the silver-blond actress looked great thanks to a few nips and tucks. Maggie had recently gained media attention by marching with her HIV-positive son in the Gay Pride Parade in Los Angeles. The two of them had landed on the cover of People People.

Dayle reread the lesbian love scene and sighed.

"The script can't be that bad," Maggie said.

"Actually, it's okay, but-well, here." Dayle handed her the ma.n.u.script, open to the s.e.x scene. "They want me for the role of Rachel."

Maggie set aside her crossword puzzle and read for a moment. "Huh, I'd buy a ticket."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Dayle plucked the script out of her hands. "I mean, is this scene really necessary? Isn't it enough that my character's a lesbian? Do I have to prove it by making love to another woman on screen? Tom Hanks was gay in Philadelphia Philadelphia, but outside of a slow dance with Antonio Banderos, he hardly touched the guy. Meanwhile, I'm supposed to get naked and roll around with another woman to get the point across."

Maggie gave her a world-weary smile. "Haven't you figured out by now that heteros.e.xual males call all the shots? Otherwise, there would be no wars, and we'd have a cure for breast cancer and AIDS."

"And I wouldn't have to kiss another woman's t.i.ts in this movie."

"Listen, you've got a gorgeous body. Why not show it off? As for the character, you're a method actress, you know what to do. Talk to some lesbian lawyers. I can have my son introduce you to some women-"

"That's all right, Maggie," Dayle cut in. "In fact, the film's based on a true story. This afternoon, I'm meeting the lawyer I play."

"The breast-kissing Rachel?"

Sighing, Dayle nodded. "Her real name's Sean Olson."

"Something else about this movie bothers you," Maggie said, studying her. She set aside her crossword puzzle book. "It's not just this s.e.x scene. What is it? Tell your mama."

Dayle managed a chuckle, then shrugged. "Oh, maybe it's the subject matter. It really seems to unnerve people. Stick your neck out, and someone always tries to chop it off."

"No kidding," Maggie said. "Certain folks have been grinding an ax for me since I appeared on the cover of People People with my son. I've had a ton of hate mail. But that's when I get on my high horse. No one's going to tell me to shut up-especially when I'm defending the civil rights of my son. I'm a fighter, Dayle. I think you are too." with my son. I've had a ton of hate mail. But that's when I get on my high horse. No one's going to tell me to shut up-especially when I'm defending the civil rights of my son. I'm a fighter, Dayle. I think you are too."

Frowning, Dayle glanced down at the script in her lap.

Maggie started to reach for her crossword puzzle book. "I've made you uncomfortable, I can tell."

"No, it's okay. Really. You're helping me figure this out, you are."

Maggie sat back. "Well, then here's my two cents. You're a big star, Dayle. You could help launch this film. I know what the script's about. It's a movie that might make a difference for people like my son. If I'm picking away at you, that's why. I have a personal investment in the subject matter. People will talk, and it's a risk. I know you have an image to maintain, Dayle. But you shouldn't rationalize your way out of doing this film."

Dayle felt herself blus.h.i.+ng. Maggie McGuire could see right through her. She shrugged. "Well, maybe I'll feel more of a personal investment myself once I meet Sean Olson this afternoon."

"I hope so," Maggie said with a knowing smile.

"They're still back there," Dayle said to Hank, glancing out the rear window. "What's it been-twenty-five minutes?"

"More like fifteen, Ms. Sutton," he replied, his eyes on the road ahead. The gla.s.s divider between them was down.

He was driving her across town to Sean Olson's office. A white Corsica had persistently remained two cars behind the limo ever since Hank pulled out of the studio gate. Dayle couldn't quite see their faces, but two men sat in the front. "Do me a favor and keep a lookout, okay, Hank? I'm getting a crick in my neck." Dayle turned forward.

She didn't know this Sean Olson. Dayle almost hoped to be unimpressed by her; then she could turn down the film role. Why risk her career, her reputation, and even her life to play this stranger? She had no personal investment in Sean Olson at this point, and she wanted it to stay that way.