Sammy Keyes and the Hollywood Mummy (5 page)

She frowned at herself in the mirror. “We can see how far
love's
gotten me!”

That shut me down cold.

And as she's working her eyebrows, Marissa holds on to my arm and whispers, “She didn't mean it like that.”

My mother stops mid-pluck and looks at me in the mirror. “No, Samantha, I didn't mean it like that. This really has nothing at all to do with you.”

“How can you
say
that? You're gonna marry some guy who's old enough to be my grandfather, who doesn't know who you really are or that you have a—”

“Stop!” she whispered fiercely.

I stopped, all right. Just clammed up and looked down. And while my eyes are burning like they've been doused with acid, Marissa says to her, “You're afraid of losing everything, aren't you?”

I looked through my tears at Marissa. It didn't even sound like her. She sounded calm. Older. And there was so much understanding in her voice that my mother turned completely around in her chair, gave Marissa a few painful blinks, then burst into tears. “Why can't I just be an actress? Why do I have to go through this nightmare?” She looks at me and says, “If I don't marry him, it's all over. I'll be back waiting tables at Big Daddy's like I never left town, and Samantha, that's going to kill me. Do you understand? Kill me.” She pushes the tears up and away with her little fingers. “And I can't afford to just leave here and live on my own. I'll never find another setup like this! I'm not out a nickel until I actually get work—do you think there's another place around that does that?
No! Which is why we're all willing to stick to their ridiculously strict schedules and regimens. They want to make us stars as much as we want to be stars, because that's how they make their money.”

Marissa says, “So if you say no, you think he's going to make you leave?”

“I have no doubt about it. Max is a very proud man, and I'm sure he'd hold me to my contract, which means I'd probably never work again.”

Marissa asks, “Can he
do
that?” and I add, “Yeah, isn't that blackmail?”

She shrugs. “He hasn't come right out and said any of this. It's just my intuition that it's what I can expect.”

Marissa says, “Maybe you're just worrying too much.”

“Yeah. Maybe he does this all the time. How many wives has he had, anyway?”

She looks right at me. “One. He never remarried after his wife, Claire, died. Have either of you ever heard of her? Claire Lewellen.”

We both shake our heads.

“Neither had I, but she'd be a hard act to follow. Max's office is a veritable shrine to her. She was a very glamorous starlet, and from the way Max talks, she would've had a room full of Oscars if she'd lived.”

“What happened to her?”

My mother shrugged and said, “She died in a car wreck near Malibu.”

“A long time ago?”

“According to the newspaper article hanging in the reception room, it's been twenty-five years.”

I thought about all this a minute, then asked, “So why you?”

She frowned at me. “Don't sound so incredulous, Samantha.”

I
was
incredulous. I mean, after all these years of
not
getting married again, why now? And why, of all people, my
mother
?

She looks down and sighs. “He says we're destined to be together. He says he's been waiting for me since the world went dark. He says he can't turn back now, and he can't go forward without me.”

For a moment the room is heavy with silence. Then Marissa says, “It sounds like he's in love with you.”

My mother looks at Marissa, her eyebrows practically screwed into a knot on her forehead. “Except that when he proposed…he called me Claire. He swears he didn't, and I
was
in a state of shock, but still….”

We all sat there a minute, quiet. And it was strange. In a way I was upset. Very upset. But in another way, the whole situation seemed distant. Like it was happening to someone else. My mother had transformed herself into someone new, just to be mistaken for a person who'd been dead for twenty-five years.

Oh yeah, that was worth the effort.

Finally I shook my head and asked, “So what are you going to do?”

“Samantha, this is not the picture I had for my life, but there's probably not a woman at the agency crazy enough to turn him down. LeBrandi said she'd do it. She said she'd do it in a heartbeat.”

I blinked. “You
told
her about it?”

“I had to tell
some
one! And LeBrandi and I have been through a lot of auditions together, so yes, I confided in her.” She eyed me and said, “And what I told her was that I couldn't do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but what she said makes a lot of sense. I'll lose everything if I turn him down, and think about what I'll get by becoming his wife! The man is extremely wealthy, but aside from that, imagine how my career would take off! I have every reason to believe he'd put the same effort and dedication into promoting me that he did into promoting Claire.”

It was like she'd zapped me with a stun gun. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak. I couldn't even blink. Marissa, though, was functioning just fine. She says, “But how can you marry him when he thinks you're Dominique Windsor? Don't you need birth certificates and blood tests and stuff to get married?”

My mother rubs her temples and whispers, “I know. I do have a fake driver's license, but—”

That brought me around in a hurry. “You do? How'd you get
that
?”

“Oh, Samantha, not now. It's way easier than it should be. The point is, I've been trying to figure a way out of this nightmare ever since he proposed. I know everything's on the verge of blowing up in my face, but I've been trying to keep the lid on it long enough to make the final audition for Jewel. And now, according to Hali, I've got that! If I can land that part…if I can just land that
part, I'll be able to go out on my own and not have to deal with this nightmare anymore. I'll be able to get an apartment, and you”—she comes over and holds my hand, squeezing it hard—“you can come and live with me.”

I didn't squeeze back. I just sat there, looking into the eyes of this person who used to be my mother. And what I felt was nothing. Nothing. The thought of moving into an apartment with her didn't make me happy. It didn't make me angry. It left me completely numb.

She lets go of my hand and says, “This isn't just a pipe dream, Samantha. I have wanted to be an actress my entire life. You of all people know how much I've given up to get here, and at this point I'm not going to let anything stop me.” She cocks her head a bit and asks, “Do either of you ever watch
The Lords of Willow Heights
?”

Marissa says, “Oh, yeah. I've seen it.”

“You know Jewel? Sir Melville's dearly departed wife? All these years he's pined away for her. No other woman could take her place … and now she's back! Or will be, as soon as they cast her. Bad case of amnesia. Doesn't remember Sir Melville or their children….”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Talk about type-casting! I mean, my mother sure wouldn't have to do much acting for that part. And I was burning to ask her why it was okay to play a mom on TV but not in real life, but before I could get myself slapped again, Marissa says, “
That's
the part you've been talking about? You're going to be
Jewel
?”

“I don't know that yet, but I
am
very close. And since you know who she is, you can imagine what a complete
cattle call it was when they first held auditions. But here it is, down to final callbacks, and I'm still in the running. It proves that I'm not just here wishing I was good at this— I really
am
a good actress!”

Marissa asks, “How many people made the final cut?”

“When I got picked for the GasAway commercial, it came down to me and one other actress. I don't know this for certain, but I have a hunch that it's a similar situation now.”

She turns to me and says, “I can't believe how much better I feel for having told you all of this. Things are not cushy for me here, they're not fun, and it's important to me that you understand that I'm not just some ding-aling down here having a little crisis.”

Some ding-a-ling having a little crisis! I couldn't help it—I busted up. And the funny thing is, she did, too. And we're sitting there, looking at each other, laughing, and it feels strange. Like we're speaking a long-lost language.

Finally she smiles at me in a way that completely dissolves my heart. It's so sweet. So kind. So loving. Then she whispers, “I've missed you, Sunshine,” but before I can get anything past the bowling ball in my throat, she pats my knee and says, “We really should get to bed. Breakfast is at seven, and that's when Max gives assignments and makes announcements. And I've got to get rid of this headache before then.”

So Marissa pops her nightgown and a toothbrush out of her suitcase while I dig a T-shirt and toothbrush out of my backpack. And we're almost at the door when we hear, “Wait a minute! Where are you going? You can't go out there!”

Marissa and I look at each other and then at my mother. Finally Marissa says, “I can't go to bed with sardine breath!”

“And I really have to pee, Mom.”

“Samantha!” she hissed. “Call me Dominique!” But she let us visit the bathroom, and in no time Marissa and I were back and under the covers of Opal's old bed, trying not to sprawl into each other's territory.

I did fall asleep for a little while, but then I rolled into Marissa, which didn't bother her but woke me right up. I lay there for the longest time, staring at the ceiling, listening to Marissa breathing beside me. Finally I propped myself up, and there's my mother, sleeping on her side, snuggled up in bed with moonlight from the window washing across her.

I couldn't help staring. She looked so beautiful. Like a fairy, snug in a bed of ivy leaves. And even though she'd abandoned me, even though she could barely admit that I was her daughter, even though there were times I knew she wanted to just wish me away, I couldn't stop looking at her.

I wanted to kneel beside her and just be near her, because now I knew she was still there; I'd seen a flash of her when she'd smiled at me. Yes, somewhere inside this stranger was my real mother—the one who'd raised me until I was almost twelve; the one I'd followed like a kitten, trusted like a scout. But bit by bit she'd been disappearing, and I didn't know how to stop it. I missed her hair. Her eyebrows. The freckles across her nose. The laughter in her voice.

And it felt like if I fell asleep again, I'd wake up to find a complete stranger where my mother had once been.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I do remember waking up. Something banged against the wall near the head of our bed, and it banged hard. Marissa slept right through it, and when I propped myself up, my mother was gone and the alarm clock across the room was glowing 3:30.

For a moment I panicked. Where had she gone? Then
thump!
something from the other room banged against the wall again. “Marissa?” I whispered. “Did you hear that?”

She didn't budge.

One more
thump
, this time quieter. “Marissa!” I shook her.

“Wh… what?” She sat upright. “What's wrong?”

“There's something banging around next door. Listen!” She moaned, “Sam-my!” but she did hold still and listen. And what did we hear?

Nothing.

A minute later the door opens and my mother comes tiptoeing in. She takes one look at us and whispers, “What are you two doing up?”

“There was some kind of banging next door. Did you hear it?”

She shook her head. “These walls are like paper. You get used to it.”

I watched her ease back into bed and asked, “Where'd you go?”

“To take some aspirin.” She looks at the clock, then
turns her back on us and practically sobs, “God, if I feel this miserable at breakfast, I'm going to die.”

I knew better than to talk. If there's one thing Lady Lana can't stand, it's chatty girls when she's trying to sleep. Marissa remembered, too. She buttoned her lips with two fingers, then mouthed, “Good night.”

They were both asleep in no time, but I just lay there, watching the moonlight dance through the blinds, thinking about my mother marrying Max; about her auditioning for the part of Jewel; about whether there'd ever be a day when I'd have to decide if living with her was worth leaving Grams and Marissa.

What I should have been thinking about was the banging.

The alarm rang at six-thirty. And that's when I learned that my mother doesn't even wake up the way she used to. No snooze button. No moaning and groaning. No Oh,
please!
from under the covers. Instead, she clicked off the buzz, swung out of bed, smiled, and cried, “It's gone! It's completely gone!”

I wanted to moan and groan and say, Oh,
please!
from under the covers, but instead I asked, “Your headache?”

She stands up. “Yes! C'mon, girls. Rise and shine! I told LeBrandi we'd switch back right at six-thirty. She's got to get her things, and I've got to get mine.” She comes over and sits on my edge of the bed. “Samantha, I'm really sorry about this. About all of this. And I'll come home the first chance I get so that we can talk—now that I know you want to talk. But I think you can see that this is not the time to discuss things.
If
I get the part of Jewel,
then
we'll have some options. But in order for me to do that, I've got to live and breathe nothing but Jewel so that I can become sort of a reincarnation of her.”

Marissa sits up and rubs her eyes. “Why can't you just be a new Jewel?”

My mother takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
“Jewel is already an established character. And sure, it'd be a lot more fun for me to do my own interpretation of her, but this is a big,
big
role. The casting director has made it very clear that the producer wants to fill the part as closely as possible in likeness, manner, and voice to the old Jewel, so that
Lords
fans will embrace her return. Once you're accepted by the viewers, then you can start making subtle changes.”