Star Shine (6 page)

Susan threw herself into a chair and thumped her heels rhythmically against its legs. Frustration creased her brow, aging her.

“You look like a crone when you do that,” said Mary.

“Crone, schmone!” Susan shouted. “I don't even know what a crone is.”

“It's an ugly old witch.”

“Give me a break.” Sue flopped about as if she had no bones and no expectations. “Do you want to hear my news or don't you? I'll count to ten.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Jenny continued to stuff her thin face with marshmallow fluff.

“O.K. That's it!” Susan leaped to her feet. “You had your chance and you blew it. Forget it. What do I care if you miss out on the biggest thing that's ever hit this little burg? What do I care if my name's in lights and you're sitting on the bench picking your nose?”

“What do I care …” Emotion carried Susan halfway out the door before Mary stopped her.

“Hey, Sue, we're only teasing. Come on back. We want to hear, really we do.”

Suspicion clouded Sue's round, usually friendly face.

“Please,” Mary said, smiling.

Sue allowed herself to be coaxed. “But you have to promise to listen and not interrupt or it's all off. One false move and I'm clamming up.” Sue sent a look full of menace in Jenny's direction. “One smart-aleck remark and that's it. Even if you get down on your knees and beg me.”

“Jenny,” Mary warned.

“Whadya mean, Jenny!” Jenny cried, outraged. “What'd I do? I didn't do anything. How come I always get blamed?”

Mary arranged her face into a serious expression and gave Sue her undivided attention. Sulking a bit, offended by the idea that she might be a smart aleck, Jenny did the same.

“She thinks she's A. Lincoln at Gettysburg,” Jenny muttered. Mary's elbow shot out, and only by dint of superior reflexes and experience did Jenny manage to dodge in time.

Susan was no dummy. She knew when she had the upper hand. “I could use a Coke,” she said. “I'm parched.”

“Get her a Coke, Jenny.”

“Tell her to get it herself.” But Jenny got a Coke for Susan, making a huge racket in the process. They watched Sue drink, hoping she wouldn't pull her stunt of polishing it off without taking a single breath. Fortunately, Susan's news must've been bigger than her desire to show off. She took a quick swig and paused, looked hard at them and said, “I'm not sure you're ready for this.” Then she licked her lips and stared hard at a point just over their heads.

“Sue—” Mary prodded her. “I haven't got all day. I have to get my teeth cleaned in an hour.”

“O.K.” Sue let it out in a rush. “They're making a movie here, right here in this town. My mother heard it at the bank. They're bringing in camera crews and all that stuff next week. They're paying the mayor a whole lot of money just to use the town in their movie. He might even build a swimming pool at the high school with the money, an Olympic-size swimming pool.” Sue's eyes widened at the wonder of it. “Plus, they're painting the railroad station and planting about a thousand rose bushes down there, too, on account of it's about two people who—”

“Jump on and off trains a whole lot, right?”

But by now Sue was so excited Jenny didn't bother her. “This town will really be on the map when they finish with it,” Sue said in triumph.

“It's already on the map,” said Jenny. “Up in the left-hand corner. I checked the atlas last week. That's where it is, in the upper left-hand corner, near the top of the state.”

“Is she for real?” Sue demanded. “I ask you, is she?”

“Jen, please.” Mary's voice took on its schoolteacher tone. Mary could be a real Miss Priss at times, Jenny thought.

Sue took a deep breath and pointed a finger at Jenny. “One of these days you're getting your comeuppance, Miss Jenny Chisholm. I guarantee it.” Sue switched gears. “But when these movie boys hire extras, they pay plenty. My mother says the sky's the limit. And when I say big bucks”—Sue lowered her voice so they had to lean closer to hear—“I mean big bucks.”

“Who's in it?” Jenny wanted to know.

“How do I know? Who cares? You want to be rich, now's your chance. You want to be famous, now's your chance. You may never have another, so grab it, baby. Grab it, I say.” Sue was really getting excited. “You don't even have to act—you just stand around with your face hanging out, and at the end of the day they slip you the moola.”

“But why would they choose us?” Mary said. “I can see where they might pick the mayor or maybe Mr. O'Grady, but we're sort of ordinary.” Mary didn't really think of herself as ordinary. She thought, Maybe they're looking for an Alice in Wonderland lookalike. If so, I might have a chance. As for Mr. O'Grady, he owned and operated the Sweet Shop. He also made his own ice cream, twelve delicious flavors, and ate a good deal of it himself. He also sang and danced a mean Irish jig, and when he did both at the same time, it was memorable.

Maybe they're looking for a kid with a big moon face, thought Susan. That's where I come in.

And Jenny plotted all the while. If I cut my hair again, she planned, and learn how to play the flute, or whatever it was the Pied Piper played, and they need a Pied Piper in this film, I've got it.

“Well.” Sue pulled herself together. “I'm setting my alarm for six a.m. on Monday. I don't know about you guys, but I'm duding myself up to look like Raquel Welch and hotfooting it down to be first in line. And when you see my name in lights, don't say I didn't warn you.”

After she'd gone, they sat in silence, turning over what Sue had said.

“Raquel Welch.” Jenny sniffed noisily and slowly shook her head. “She's out to lunch. Even if she put on piles of makeup and dyed her hair, what about the bod? With her bod, she'll never make it.”

“Well, we might as well go,” Mary said. “We have as good a chance as anybody else, I reckon. And we don't have anything better to do.”

“Speak for yourself. I'm not going,” said Jenny. “You go if you want, but I'm staying here.”

CHAPTER TEN

“What about it, girls? Should I call her?”

They were stunned, crestfallen. Just when they'd thought they were doing so well, the three of them, their father had suggested they go to stay with their grandmother until their mother returned.

“I worry about you,” their father told them. “You're alone too much. Children your age shouldn't have to fend for themselves all day.”

“They don't allow kids under twelve at grandmother's condo,” Jenny reminded him. She'd been deeply offended when she first learned of this flagrant age discrimination. Now it came to her rescue.

Besides, “She's too persnickety, Daddy,” they said. Their grandmother's condo was carpeted wall to wall in white, and glass-topped tables stretched as far as the eye could see. Their grandmother played bridge and watered her plants and spent the rest of the time wiping off fingerprints. She was all right, but not cozy.

“Please, Daddy.” Jenny moved in on her father, her big eyes all moony with wanting to stay put. “Let us stay.”

“I don't think you give us enough credit,” Mary said, running in place as if warming up for the big race.

Their father patted his pockets, looking for a cigarette.

“We're very responsible children,” Mary said, still running.

“I never doubted that,” their father said, still patting. “I just think you'd be better off with her than staying here by yourselves. I'd take some time off, but this project I'm working on now is important and must be completed soon. It's not right for you to be on your own so much. Yet you're too old for baby-sitters, and the only housekeeper I called wanted an arm and a leg.”

“What do we want with a housekeeper?” Jenny asked scornfully. “She'd probably watch TV all day. We keep house fine. Why, I scrubbed out the bathtub only last week. Wasn't it last week, Mary? You know, Daddy, I really hate to scrub out the bathtub, but I did it anyway,” Jenny told her father, to prove what a good housekeeper she was.

“Susan told us some fantastic news today, Daddy,” Mary said to change the subject. “A movie company's coming to town to make a movie here. Right here! Isn't that cool? And they're choosing people to be extras in the movie next week. Jenny and I are going down there to see if they choose us. They pay a lot, Daddy.” Inspiration took Mary by the throat. “And we're giving you part of what we make.” Beside her, Jenny gasped. Mary plunged on, not looking at her sister. “It isn't fair for you to have to pay all the bills, so Jenny and I are going to help.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jenny muttered.

Their father took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “That's extremely kind of you,” he said. “Extremely kind. I'm indeed fortunate to have two such thoughtful daughters, and I know it. When I'm old and gray, you can treat me to an ice cream soda, but until then it's all on me. You save whatever money you make to buy Christmas presents or something. How did you find out about this movie?”

“Susan's mother heard about it at the bank,” Mary told him. “They hear everything at the bank before ordinary people hear about it. Banks are like that.”

“Oh? Since when are you privy to what they hear at banks?” They could tell their father was amused.

“I thought a privy was an outhouse,” said Mary.

Their father looked startled. “You're right, it is,” he said, “but privy also means participating in the knowledge of something private or secret. You keep me on my toes, Mary, I'll say that.” He looked pleased, as did Mary. Jenny wished she could think of something that would make him say that she too kept him on his toes, but at the moment she couldn't think of anything.

“Sue said they pay extras big bucks, and if we got chosen, we wouldn't even have to ask you for our allowances anymore. Wouldn't that be great?”

“That it would.” Their father opened table drawers, lifted up lids of boxes, and they knew he was looking for a stray cigarette. He went out to the closet in the hall and checked out the pockets of his coat and still came up zilch.

“Daddy, you're addicted to nicotine,” Mary said severely. “It's bad for your heart and your lungs, you know. It can kill you.”

“I know, Mary, I know, but it soothes me,” their father said.

“It's kind of like my thumb,” Jenny said. “I'm addicted to my thumb. I know only babies suck their thumbs, and it might make my teeth stick out, but it soothes me too. I understand your problem, Daddy. I feel for you.”

Their father laughed out loud, something he did not often do. “You are good children,” he said. “I love you very much.”

They didn't know what to say. Their father seldom, if ever, told them he loved them. They couldn't remember the last time. They knew he loved them from the way he acted, so that was all right, but now he'd come right out and said it.

Fortunately, the phone rang just then. Mary got to it first.

“My father says not to sign anything until he gets a chance to check out these movie guys,” Tina said in a shrill voice. “He says those movie bozos will steal the gold fillings out of your teeth if you don't watch 'em. My father also says not to do anything without getting something in writing.”

“I can't talk now, Tina,” Mary told her.

“Too bad your mother's not home. She might get a job acting in the movie. You better call her up and tell her. I bet she'd hot-foot it home if she knew.” Tina laughed. “My mother says a regular pay check beats a glamorous job. Being an actor is chancy, my mother says. And my father says …”

Mary hung up quietly.

“Was that Sue?” Jenny asked.

“No, it was Tina. Her father says not to sign anything, to get it in writing, and they'll steal the gold out of your teeth.”

“Oh, boy,” said their father, “this is only the beginning.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

And he was right. Rumors flew. The movie Company was hiring five hundred extras and paying each one a daily wage that would be enough to buy a new car. Or a pizza. The movie company was out to fleece every merchant in town. The movie company was a large and benevolent employer who would treat each and every townsperson like a king. The movie company was out to trash Millville.

The owner of the Shady Side Motel hung out his “No Vacancy” sign—a first for him. He walked around, smiling foolishly, rubbing his hands together, planning expansion. Even when the motel ran out of hot water and the septic tank backed up, the owner's good temper and foolish smile stayed put.

The motel's parking lot filled up with gigantic vans carrying cameras, sound and electrical equipment. Daily the company ordered food from the town's only caterer, who padded his bills, figuring that if he was going to strike it rich, now was the time.

A local real estate broker became rich and famous overnight when she rented out the Standish place to the stars for the duration. It was written in the contract that the movie company must pay for any and all damage done. If they tore down walls or erected strange statues in the garden, things would be put back exactly as they had been. Mr. Standish, vacationing in his villa in Tuscany, telephoned the broker at least once a day, checking on things. Mr. Standish, a notorious skinflint, always called collect, so the broker's profits weren't quite as much as she'd planned on. Still, “We're talking a whole lot of bread here,” people said, nodding wisely. “A whole lot of bread.”

The long-standing relationship between the leading man and the leading lady began to crumble under the stress and strain of too much togetherness. Angry words wafted on the soft summer air around the Standish place. Lights blazed, sometimes all night long.

Millville's cash registers had never had such a workout. The tradespeople grumbled about the crowds, the parking problems, but their faces filled out and their wallets bulged. The village green resembled an oversize pool table, its grass so thick and lush and green and trimmed within an inch of its life. Rain fell, though only at night. The sun shone down benignly, making no distinction between the natives and the interlopers. Tour buses, apprised of the action in Millville, careened into town, disgorging senior citizens with cameras dangling from their necks, in search of luminaries and action.