Smoke and Mirrors (11 page)

Mason shuffled left, putting his costar's tuxedo-clad shoulders between him and the girl. “She's starting to creep me out. I mean, I know what to do when older girls stare at me like that, but she's eleven!”

“So ignore her.”

“Easy to say.”

Ashley, wearing her turn-of-the-century costume, sat in Peter's chair, stroking the caretaker's cat—allowed back on the set when the girls had screamed down the possibility of its exclusion—her eyes locked on Mason, her bare feet swinging in an inexplicably ominous rhythm. When he moved, she moved. Or she moved whatever currently blocked her line of sight.

In the interest of not having his crew ordered around and his schedule completely disrupted, Peter had told Mason to remain visible.

“Why can't I just lock myself in my dressing room?” Mason had demanded.

“Do you seriously think that would stop her?” Peter'd asked him. “You can suit yourself, but if I were you, I'd stay out where there are witnesses.”

In all the time he'd been working on
Darkest Night
, Tony had never seen Mason at a loss for words. Even during an incident with the wardrobe assistant, he'd managed a fairly articulate,
“Get the hell out and tell Peter I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
This time, however, he'd opened his mouth, closed it again, and latched on to Lee like the other actor was his new best friend.

Lee clearly found the whole thing amusing.

“Brianna!”

Everyone, cast and crew, turned toward the door as Brenda ran into the foyer.

Sliding to a stop just over the threshold, she swept a wild gaze over the assembled men and women. “Have you seen Brianna?”

Peter paled. “Don't tell me you've lost her!”

Brenda waved the apron she held like a calico flag of surrender. “I only took my eyes off her for a second! When I turned around, she was gone! I thought I saw her running toward the house!”

“Tony!”

Tony felt his heart skip a beat as the director and everyone else turned to stare at him. Had the house claimed its first victim?
At least I warned CB. He can't blame me for this.
Right. Just like no one blamed Ben-nifer when
Gigli
tanked.

“You brought them,” Peter continued grimly. “You find her.”

He brought them? Like he had a choice?

“I think we should divide up into search parties,” Ashley announced before Tony managed to think of something to say. She stood, crossed to Mason's side, and took hold of his sleeve. “Groups of two, I think. I'll go with Mason.”

“No.” Mason managed half a step back before he realized Ashley was moving right along with him. “You heard Peter, Tony brought them! Brought you. He's responsible. Adult guardian of record, isn't he? Let Tony do his job. Let Tony find her.”

“Tony's a dork,” Ashley scoffed.

Tony caught the words, “Am not!” behind his teeth.
Because that would be mature.
“I wouldn't know where to start,” he pointed out in what he thought was a fairly calm voice given the circumstances.

From the back of the house came the unmistakable scream of an angry cat.

“Start in the kitchen,” Peter suggested dryly.

“I didn't mean to hurt it,” Brianna protested, filling her mouth with cheese puffs and wiping her hand on her dress. “It got right in my way and I stepped on its stupid tail! Do you think it hates me now?”

Picking up the bowl of cheese puffs to use as a lure, Tony backed away from the craft services table. “I doubt it. Cats don't have very long memories.” Considering how fast it had to have been motoring to get from the front hall to the kitchen, the odds of impact between cat and kid had to have been astronomical. Although considering this particular kid . . . As she reached for the bowl, he took another two steps. And another.

“I just wanted to look behind the door!”

“What door?” Almost out of the kitchen . . .

“That door!”

His hand throbbed. “That's just the basement,” he said, trying his best to make it sound like the most boring place on Earth. “And besides, the door's locked. Your father doesn't want us to go down there.”

She snorted, spraying bits of damp cheese puff and turned toward the forbidden. “My father lets me go anywhere I want.”

Oh, yeah. That went well. In another minute she'd be knee-deep in floodwater and old wiring.

Depended. Define fffffffffffst. If it meant
wanted to strangle,
then that would be a big “God, yes.”

“That was Adam,” he said as Brianna stared up at him through narrowed eyes. “He says since you've been gone so long, Ashley says she'll be the only ghost.”

“Oh, no, she won't!”

Wow. If he'd thought the cat could motor . . . Ashley dealt with the resulting tantrum by knocking her sister down and sitting on her until she cried uncle. Tony suspected he wasn't the only jealous adult in the room. Unfortunately, when it was over, the girls backed him into a corner while everyone else was suddenly busy setting up the shot. Since when did it take seven people to check a light meter?

“I
never
said I wanted to be the only ghost!”

“You told me she said that!”

“I'm
so
telling my father on you!”

“Ashley . . .” Struck by inspiration, Tony bent forward and lowered his voice. “. . . Mason's watching. He'll think you're acting like a little girl.”

Ashley's eyes widened, her mouth snapped shut, and gathering her dignity around her, she stalked back to Peter's chair.

Tony found Brianna staring up at him with reluctant admiration. “You're such a liar,” she said. “Gimme the cheese puffs.”

He hadn't realized he was still holding the bowl. Fortunately, the apron covered the accumulated orange stains on the dress.

“Why cheese puffs?” Brenda asked as Peter placed the girls where he needed them. “Why do they even have cheese puffs anyway?”

“In general?”

“No, specifically. Specifically here. Specifically where those two could get at them. Cheese puffs do not make historic stains!”

Tony patted her shoulder in a comforting way. “It's not like we're usually that big on historical accuracy.”

Spinning out from under his hand, she glared at him. “I do my best!”

“I just meant it's not that important because the stains can be deleted in post.”

“That's not what you said.”

“I know.”

“They wouldn't wear the shoes and stockings.”

“Barefoot works.”

“You think?”

“Sure.” Why not. It was summer and it wasn't like they had an option. Suddenly certain he was being watched, Tony turned in time to see Lee look away.
Figures. Not watching me. Watching Brenda.

“My lipstick's all gone!” Had there been a second balcony, Ashley's voice would have carried beyond it. She'd clearly inherited her father's vocal abilities. “I can't act without new lipstick!”

“Tony!”

Ears ringing, he headed out to the trailer to retrieve Everett.

Thing was, when the girls actually settled down to work, they weren't bad.

“Look up at Mason and Lee on the stairs and smile. A little less teeth, please Brianna. Good girl. Now look sad. Good, hold it. Try not to move your bodies, just change your expressions. Can you give me angry? Good work. Now thoughtful. Yes . . . up through the lashes is good, Ashley. Okay, girls, smile again . . .”

The crew held its collective breath as Peter banked as many expressions as possible, shooting cover shots and then close-ups. Tony wiped sweating palms on his jeans and scanned the entrance hall for ghosts. Were he an actual ghost and a television show was in his haunted house filming
fake
ghosts, he'd be showing up in the shot. He'd fade in slowly, so slowly, so subtly that he'd be nearly opaque by the time they noticed him, and then when they did, at the inevitable screams greeting his gruesome appearance, he'd disappear. Poof. A lot more effective than just popping in to say boo.

“Why can't I just appear behind the kids, say boo, and then disappear?”

Cassie rolled her remaining eye at her brother. “Because we're not supposed to be seen.”

“But we've been seen.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Excuse me? Dressing up and pretending to be alive wasn't being seen on purpose?”

“That was different; we were being seen as people.” One finger picking at a bit of frayed wallpaper, she peered down the stairs at the television crew. “Something feels . . .”

“Wrong. So you said already.” Stephen wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder.

She reached up and absently set it back in place on his neck. “Wrong. Familiar. I wish Graham was in the house, I need to talk to someone.”

“I'm someone.”

“I know, love.” But her gaze locked on the young man who'd known what they were.

Brianna screamed and dropped to the floor when the light blew, but Ashley stood her ground as bits of hot glass rained down from above, glaring at the smoking piece of equipment like she couldn't believe it was attempting to upstage her.

“Cut!” Peter's voice rose above the chaos. “Is anyone hurt?”

No one was.

“Good. That's all right, then; no one's hurt and I've got what I need down here.” He glanced around as though looking for a union steward or a representative from the government's workplace safety committee who might suggest he have a larger reaction. When neither presented themselves, the set of his shoulders visibly relaxed. “If you're not needed in the bathroom, you can help clean this mess while the rest of us head to the second floor. Everett, Brenda, stay close. Tony, until Adam lets you know we're ready for the girls, keep an eye on them.”

An eye? Oh, yeah, like that would be enough. Tony made his way over cables and through the sudden throng of arguing grips and electricians standing by the blown light to where CB's daughters were respectively drumming bare heels against the hardwood and staring at Mason. Before either of them could take off for parts unknown or declare they didn't want to go upstairs or announce they were telling their father about the light, he said, “You two are good.”

“No shit?” Brianna asked from the floor.

He crossed his heart. “No shit.”

“You don't have to sound so surprised about it,” Ashley snorted, actually looking away from Mason long enough to roll her eyes in a disturbingly mature way at Tony. “Our mom is an actress, you know.”