Feast of Saints (14 page)

Campbell scuttled backwards another yard, then scrambled to his feet. “Yes, I was just leaving,” he croaked as he slipped out of the door.

She dropped her hand, a rebuke on the end of her tongue, but what she really felt was gratitude. She wasn’t quite sure how she would have handled the situation if Jake hadn’t been there. Instead of chastising him, she said, “Thank you.”

“Who was that guy?” Jake demanded. Lilly saw her carefully constructed Lab demolished by a flood of new rules instituted by Campbell’s replacement if she told Jake who he was.

“He’s nobody. Nobody you need to worry about. It’s over. I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here. You’re right, it’s been a long day.”

Lilly grabbed up her shoes and purse and headed for the door, flipping the lights off to force Jake out of the room.

He followed her out obediently but did not let the subject drop. He stared down at her, matching his long strides to her barefooted ones as they walked down the hall. “What was going on back there, Lilly?”

“I don’t know. Pretty much what you saw. I think I must have given him the wrong impression, or something.” It had happened so fast. Now she wasn’t sure if what Campbell had done was just an overly zealous pass at her or whether he intended something more unsavory. Jake had been there so quickly to intervene that, whatever his intentions, he hadn’t gotten far.

“Campbell, wasn’t it? Is he a security guard?”

“Can we just drop it? Up until tonight he’s been pretty helpful. I think it was just a misunderstanding.”

“You’ll let me know if he comes around again?”

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again after tonight.” She couldn’t help but smile at Jake. Although her misgivings about Campbell had begun to evaporate, her gratitude toward Jake had not. He reminded her of her brother, who’d always leaped in to defend her, asking questions after.

At the exit, Jake looked down at her bare feet. “You need to put your shoes on. There’s glass everywhere. This morning, two grips dropped the entire rose window for the Assisi Cathedral set out here.”

Lilly nodded and bent over to slip on the sky-high Pradas. When she straightened, Jake was staring harshly down at her, hands on his hips.

“Can you walk?”

“Easy peasy,” she said and took a lurching, painful step forward.

She didn’t get another one. Jake swept her up, carrying her over to the McLaren crouched nearby in a parking spot with his name on it.

“Oh no. I’m not getting in the Death Star again.”

Jake looked affronted and tsked at her. “It’s not the Death Star. It’s the Millennium Falcon.”

“Well, I don’t care. I’m riding my bike home.”

Jake looked wide-eyed at her feet. “Don’t tell me you rode a bike here in those shoes?”

“No, my motorbike. The Vespa.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “That thing’s a death trap.”

Lilly felt like she was in surreal dream, cradled in Jake’s arms, in the middle of the Warner Brothers’ lot, having this argument. She guessed she should have felt uncomfortable with the way he was manhandling her but she’d spent so much time handling him, it seemed like a natural extension of their tactile relationship.

“You’re going to need to put me down,” she said. “I’ve got to get home and I need to take the Vespa. I have to be back here tomorrow bright and early.”

Jake set her down gently and ran his hands through his still damp hair. “At least let me give you a ride over to your bike.” The below-liners parked across the lot.

“I’m not feeling particularly optimistic that tomorrow’s going to be any better than today. You’re going to need your feet under you.” He was worried, about her, about the film.

She nodded and gestured to the sports car. “You first.”

Jake rolled across the studio grounds to the employee parking lot. When he pulled up behind the Vespa, she hesitated before clambering out of the car.

Scooting forward in the recessed passenger seat so she could look him in the face, she said, “Today was a disaster.” There, she’d said it out loud. “And it wasn’t you. And it wasn’t me. It wasn’t Monty, either.”

“I know,” said Jake. “When Frances got Carl fired up about the film, the studio supplemented the equipment and the crew. They’re experienced, but most of them haven’t worked together and some of the equipment is so cutting edge they’re still learning it.”

She had noticed that, too. And the fact that the camera crew lacked a captain. No one seemed to want to take responsibility on the set.

“We need a Cully Sampson,” she said.

“What’s a Cully Sampson?” Jake, who thought he knew every producer in the business, didn’t know that name.

“He ran the camera crew on
Fox Hollow
. The problem is, he just retired. But if you can convince him to come in as a consultant for a few weeks, he’ll get the crew organized.”

“Getting that crew working together is going to take some finesse. What makes you think this Cully guy can do it?” Lilly could hear the skepticism in his voice. She was used to the Hollywood bias against people who worked on children’s films, but she was surprised to hear it from Jake. Surely he knew how much money a well-produced G-rated movie could generate, and the profit margin, and the guaranteed DVD sales to mommies and daddies looking for something guilt-free and wholesome for their kids to watch over, and over, and over.

“He’s just a good cameraman, Jake,” she said tiredly. “And good with people. Adults included.”

Jake registered her rebuke with a long look, then said, “I’m willing to try anything not to repeat today. If he’s retired, all the better. The studio won’t have to buy him out of another contract. How do I reach him?”

She took the expensive phone he’d given her out of her purse and forwarded Cully’s contact information to Jake’s number and then crawled out of the car. She slipped off the shoes she’d probably never wear again and stowed them under the Vespa’s seat. Strapping on her helmet, she called to Jake through the open door of the crouching sports car, “I could call Cully this evening to give him a heads up, if you’d like.”

Jake was staring grimly at the Vespa. “No, not yet. I’d better call Monty first.”

“Okay, see you in the morning.” Lilly saw him say something else, but his words were drowned out by the tinny whine of the Vespa as she kick-started it.

Jake had been half-right about the Vespa’s safety. It was fine for tooling around city streets, but on the freeway, it really would be a death trap. She wasn’t sure it could get up to highway speeds and she never intended to find out.

When she passed the entrance ramp to the 101, she expected Jake to peel off, but he didn’t. At a stoplight a few blocks later, Lilly turned to look at him right behind her, the silver sports car glowing in the early evening sunshine sneaking its rays under the smog. She could see his mouth moving, talking to someone on a hands-free phone. He didn’t stop talking when he saw her watching him and waved her on when the light turned.

He followed right behind her all the way home, the McLaren alternately purring and growling like a giant cat toying with a mouse. It was nerve-racking. Was he escorting her home to make a point about his dislike for her Vespa? He surely couldn’t be thinking he could escort her home every night.

By the time she zipped into the back alley to put the motorbike away in the shed, her already frayed nerves were frazzled. She thought for sure he’d drive off then, but when she unlocked the back door, she heard Kyle opening the front door with a surprised, “Hello, Jake. Where’s Lilly?”

“I’m right here,” she said, walking into the living room from the back of the house. Kyle took one look at her exasperated expression and said, “I’ll just be upstairs.”

“Jake, I don’t need you to follow me home. You’re worse than my father. Surely you have better things to do,” she said.

Uh oh
. He didn’t like that, judging by the thin set of his mouth. “Yes, I do have better things to do. Right now, it apparently involves driving you over to Cully Sampson’s house. Put on some sensible shoes,” he sneered. “I’ll be in the car.”

Flabbergasted, she watched him do an about-face and walk back out the front door, not bothering to shut it on his way out.

Well, I never. That man and I are going to have it out
. Making sure his back was still turned, she flipped him off before heading into her room to change.

Five minutes later, Lilly was squatting in front of the open door of the McLaren, wearing blue jeans, a bright green, Paul Frank T-shirt featuring Julius the Monkey riding a Vespa, and her Dsquared2 Roxies.

“Do you even
own
any sensible shoes?” he asked, staring incredulously at her boots.

“Listen up, buster,” she wagged her finger at him, “I tell you what to wear. Not vice versa, got it? Besides, for what I have in mind for you, these are sensible,” she said, trying to sound fierce.

Jake snorted. “Bring it on, Pixie. Now, get in the car. I’m starving. We’ve got a thirty minute drive even with hyperspace.” Cully lived in Tujunga, the north easternmost corner of LA, on the edge of the Angeles National Forest.

She braced herself when they headed up the on-ramp for the 405, but Jake must have already blown his one shot at getting arrested that day, because he took it relatively easy.

Halfway to Cully’s, he said, “Why don’t you get a car? You can’t seriously think you can ride that rattle trap back and forth to the set every day.”

“You know, you really are starting to sound like my father. I had to move half a continent away from him before he stopped bossing me around. But, for your information, I don’t plan on riding it every day. Most days, I’ll ride my bicycle. I just haven’t yet figured out the best cycling route to Warner.”

Given Jake’s apparent overprotective streak, she decided not to mention that an ill-planned cycling route through LA traffic would be much more dangerous than the Vespa.

Changing the subject, she asked, “So, I take it you already spoke with Cully and he knows we’re coming?”

“Yes, I talked with Monty, too. And Ty.” If it had been anyone other than Tyler, she might have been offended that he solicited a second opinion on her recommendation from an eleven year old, but knowing Tyler like she did, she thought it extremely practical.

“And?” she asked. “What did they have to say?”

“Monty was on his second scotch, it sounded like. He said to do whatever it took to fix the mess the studio had made out of his crew. Although he said it with a bit more color. Ty said you were right, that you were
always
right, and that I should trust your judgment. He sends his love, by the way,” Jake said with a wry smile.

Lilly giggled, happy that her admiration was returned. “Have you talked to him about his run on the stage? He was so nervous, but I thought he nailed it on opening night. He could only have gotten better.”

“He did. He’s been asked to take it to Broadway, but no one is supposed to know that, so keep it to yourself.”

“Broadway! He’s so young!”

“Yes, he is. I’m not happy that he’ll be so far away. But my sister is there. Jennis can look out for him.”

“His parents won’t be with him?” Ty’s parents were well-grounded, unlike some of the parenting nightmares she’d seen on the set.

“When they can, but they’ve got Emma, too, and can’t always be there,” Jake said.

Jake was usually so tight-lipped about his family, it was a pleasant surprise to listen to him volunteer information.

“Is Ty your nephew?” she asked.

“Actually, he’s my cousin’s son. Technically, he’s my second cousin but I’ve always been Uncle Jake to him. Jennis is my only sibling and she doesn’t have any children.”

“What’s Jennis like?” she asked, pressing for more.

“Me, pretty much. Except she doesn’t like acting or Hollywood. Her passion is music.”

“Does she play an instrument?” She had always been envious of anyone who could play piano or guitar. Her hands were so small that she didn’t have the range of movement to be any good.

“Yes. She plays guitar and sings, although she doesn’t perform for an audience outside of family and friends. She runs the music side of my business. We have a record label and some clubs. She’s got an eye for new talent.”

Lilly, thinking back to her Internet research on Jake, tried not to laugh at his understated description of the “music side” of his business, which was a corporate empire all on its own. Jennis must be impressive.

By the time they pulled up in front of Cully’s, she was over being miffed at Jake, and he was over his irritation with her.

“Did he say he’d do it, or are we here to convince him?” she asked. She suddenly wished she had called Cully when she’d gotten the email announcing
Fox’s
inclusion in the pre-nominations for Best Makeup. As today had so graphically illustrated, she was only as good as the crew doing the filming.

“He said he’d do it. But he said he wanted to see you. Something about some chickens?”

Lilly looked at Cully’s little house in the middle of the crowded Tujunga neighborhood. “Chickens? As in fricassee?”

“Do not mention food. I’m about to eat the soles of your ridiculous boots,” groaned Jake.

Cully met them at the door. Although she hadn’t seen him in almost a year, he picked right up as if they’d been having a conversation that had only been briefly interrupted.

“Come in, come in. She’s back here.” Lilly looked at Jake, who shrugged, then turned and followed Cully through the little house about the size of Lilly’s to the back yard.

Where the shed dominated Lilly’s small backyard, a chicken coop dominated Cully’s. The Taj Mahal of chicken coops. Lilly, who’d been raised with chickens on the farm, had to choke back an exclamation as to why Cully would build something so intricate and beautiful only to fill it with chicken poop.

“It’s my Dominecker, Lil. Dolly. I think she’s hurt. She won’t come out of the nest box, and she pecks at me whenever I try to lift her up. I raised her from a chick. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

Lilly had to smile. Although she lifted the hinged roof on the nest box to take a peek to be sure, she knew what was wrong with Dolly. Dropping her acquired LA flat accent, she said, “She’s gone broody, Cully.”