The Athena Factor (29 page)
Authors: W. Michael Gear
The cast party was a thespian's tradition that reached back into the dim and distant past. A celebration of the hard work, the good times and bad, that had occasioned a group of strangers to become a short-term family.
I'm done!
She smiled wearily and looked down at her purse. The amphetamines lay unused, but for a couple of tablets. She was still in control. Her body might have felt like scorched toast, but her self-discipline had held.
She smiled wearily and looked down at her purse. The amphetamines lay unused, but for a couple of tablets. She was still in control. Her body might have felt like scorched toast, but her self-discipline had held.
The pills in her purse mocked her. She could feel them, whispering, calling, chiding her. Relief lay just a swallow away. She'd be fresh again, ready to take on the world instead of being this brain-dead hulk of ambulatory tissue.
Sleep is almost yours.
She waved as she passed a flock of extras dressed as Civil War Confederates and rounded the corner that led to her lot trailer. The awning cast a solitary square of shade over the lawn chairs and small table. The muted puttering of the air conditioners rose from the long line of trailers.
Sheela plodded up to the steps and opened her doorâthen
sighed wearily as she stepped inside and waved halfheartedly at Rex, who sat at the table in the small booth.
sighed wearily as she stepped inside and waved halfheartedly at Rex, who sat at the table in the small booth.
“We're finished,” she told him. “I wrapped my last scene. Bernard's doing some short intercuts with the extras, and then he'll get what he can out of Manny, but that's not my problem anymore.” She grinned. “So, it's Thursday afternoon, and I'm headed home to fall face-first into bed.”
Rex smiled. “Glad to hear that. You and I have some things to talk about.”
“Not now, Rex. I can't think ⦠let alone pay attention.”
He tapped the two screenplays on the table. “Did you get a chance to go through either of these?”
“Get real!”
“We need an answer. Tony thinks you ought to bail on the Petrie property and go with Bruckheimer. I tend to agree. The role suits you better.”
“I want some time off,” she said as she slumped into the booth across from him. “Rex, I'm roadkill. It took everything I had to get through
Jagged Cat.
I can't keep up with this schedule.”
Jagged Cat.
I can't keep up with this schedule.”
He tilted his head. “I thought I got you something for that.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out the little pill bottle. “I took three. I don't like them.”
His flat stare bored into her. “Sheela, do you know what it means to be on the A-list?” He tapped the screenplays again. “I've talked to the producers. You've got your choice. Twenty million up front, or fifteen percent of the box office. Your decision.”
“Rex, I ⦔ She shook her head. “They start preproduction next week, right?”
“Bruckheimer wants you on Thursday for a preliminary meeting. Petrie has his scheduled for Friday.”
She closed her eyes, whispering, “I just can't do it.”
She could feel his eyes, hard, unbending. “Sheela,” he said softly, “I've gotta know which one.”
“Neither,” she told him as she nerved herself to look him in the eye. “Tell Jerry if he'll wait for a month, I'll do it.”
“What?” Rex snapped. “You want me to tell Bruckheimer
to put a two-hundred-million-dollar project on hold while you take a nap?”
to put a two-hundred-million-dollar project on hold while you take a nap?”
“You heard me!” The shrill note in her voice surprised her. She hesitated, rubbing her masklike face. Her skin felt wooden from the caking of makeup. “God, I'm sorry, Rex. I don't mean to be a shrew.”
He smiled, half-forgiving. “It's okay, Sheela. Yeah, get some rest. I'll drop by tomorrow and we'll make a final decision. About nine, then?”
She gave him an empty look. “Why are you pushing this?”
He stood, collecting his papers. “Because you're hot. Come on. You're in your thirties now. This is Hollywood, babe. Get it? You've got ten years. That's it. When you hit forty, you're history. By the time you turn forty-one, they're gonna need an archaeologist to dig you up.”
She blinked, feeling the twinge of fear.
“Hey,” Rex relented as he snapped his briefcase closed on the papers. “It's okay. We just gotta make hay while the cutting's good.” He pointed to the pill bottle. “They're there if you need them.” A smile. “You can rest next decade, right?”
“Yeah, right” Shit, the way she felt now, she wasn't going to wake up until she was forty-three.
“Sheela,” Rex cooed in a gentler voice, “it's not just you that we're talking about. Crying âMe! Me! Me!' won't cut it.”
She could feel the sense of guilt come toppling down, like stones on a swimming woman.
Rex got halfway to the door and stopped, his briefcase under his arm. He turned, a pensive look on his face. “Tell me, this âtime off' thing ⦠Did Lymon suggest it?”
She shrugged. “He's worried about me.”
A flicker crossed his eyes. “Yeah, I'm sure he is.”
Then Rex was gone.
Sheela rolled the bottle of pills between her fingers. If she only took one, she could finish the scripts this afternoon. She fought for a deep breath, feeling sick. Pieces of her were shrinking.
Going away.
Getting ever smaller.
Everyone depends on me. The whole fucking world.
F
riday afternoon had started hot under a searing sun. Christal pulled her Chrysler into the circle drive and tried to park as inconspicuously as possible. She glanced at her watch, seeing that it was five till one. The vegetation cast cool pools of shade that barely masked the heat rolling down from the San Gabriels.
riday afternoon had started hot under a searing sun. Christal pulled her Chrysler into the circle drive and tried to park as inconspicuously as possible. She glanced at her watch, seeing that it was five till one. The vegetation cast cool pools of shade that barely masked the heat rolling down from the San Gabriels.
Christal took a moment to check herself in the mirror. Good, nothing in her teeth, and she looked presentable. Not bad for as rapidly as she'd gotten ready for this assignment.
“Christal?”
Lymon had asked, curiosity in his voice. “
I just got a call from Sheela. She wondered if I could send you over at one this afternoon. Said there were some things she wanted to discuss with you.”
Lymon had asked, curiosity in his voice. “
I just got a call from Sheela. She wondered if I could send you over at one this afternoon. Said there were some things she wanted to discuss with you.”
When she'd prodded, Lymon had given no more details, but had sounded puzzled himself.
“Christal?”
he had finished.
“Be quick, huh? She's got a heavy schedule tonight. Try not to take too much of her time. Let her get all the rest she can.”
he had finished.
“Be quick, huh? She's got a heavy schedule tonight. Try not to take too much of her time. Let her get all the rest she can.”
So, here she had come, shuffling through the half-coagulated LA traffic to Sheela's opulent mansion. She had checked in with neighborhood security and then buzzed in at Sheela's gate.
Crystal emerged from her Chrysler and walked up to the huge wooden doors. She hadn't even rung when Tomaso opened the right-hand portal and welcomed her.
“This way, Ms. Anaya,” Tomaso said, leading Christal not to the meeting room that she was familiar with but up the stairs. She lagged, trying to see the artwork. The familiar colors of the Southwest were warm and reassuring. A single glowing Reid Christie painting showed sunlight glowing off of bison backs. In another, by Santiago Pérez, a colorful New Mexican rider dashed his horse below a saint-filled sky.
“I didn't know Sheela had such an interest in this kind of art,” she offered as Tomaso led her past the closed doors to the end of the hallway.
“Yes, she tries to go to Santa Fe at least once a year.” Tomaso smiled, lifted a hand, and knocked before opening the door and announcing, “Ms. Anaya to see you, ma'am.”
“Thank you, Tomaso,” Sheela called as Christal stepped into the ⦠what? Ante-bedroom? Christal stared at the huge TV, the books and videos. Looking straight back through the opened doors she could see Sheela's huge bedroom; to the right she had a glimpse of the well-equipped dressing room.
“Christal!” Sheela rose from a chaise and crossed the floor to take her hands. “Thank you for coming.”
Christal started to smile, and hesitated, fixing on the puffiness in Sheela's red-rimmed eyes. “Hey, you all right?”
“Tired as hell,” Sheela muttered. “Can I get you something? A drink? Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, I fixed a bite at my place. The Residence Inn is neat that way. Each of the suites has a kitchen. They're little apartments, actually.”
Sheela motioned to the chair across from hers and resettled herself. “Did you see the news this morning? About what happened in Paris?”
Christal leaned forward in the overstuffed chair. “You mean about Princess Diana? Yeah.”
During the night, someone had broken into the forensic lab that curated specimens taken from the body of Diana, the princess of Wales, during the investigations after her fatal car crash in 1997. The Sûreté was investigating, and was particularly curious as to how a French radio station had been tipped off within hours of the break-in. News clips had shown outrage throughout England as the story broke. The Spencer family had already voiced their dismay. No statement had been forthcoming from the royal family on the matter.
“What do you think?” Sheela asked softly.
“I don't know yet.” Christal made a gesture. “Maybe it's
related, maybe not. She wasn't Hollywood. Not a film star like you and the others.”
related, maybe not. She wasn't Hollywood. Not a film star like you and the others.”
Sheela nodded. “I want to know what you've found out about the celeb hits. Everything. Lymon has been giving me reports, but I want it from the horse's mouth.”
Christal leaned back and started at the beginning, relating everything that she knew, then added, “I think it's all coming together. And I don't like where it's going.”
“How's that?”
“I think Sheik Abdulla, Genesis Athena, and the bizarre thefts are part of the same thing.” She winced slightly. “It's as if I can feel it all moving in unison. Kind of like something breathing just out of sight. You can't help but know it's a monster of some kind. You see, the thing is, Lymon's right. There are too many coincidences. Why Hank? Why did Sheik Abdulla cancel everything at the last minute to fly to New York just to see you? Why is Genesis Athena in Yemen, while he has his offices in Qatar? You, Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, Brad Pitt, Mel Gibson, Manny de Clerkâall the big stars. All high profile. It's like a fan wish list from
Us
or
People
magazines.”
Us
or
People
magazines.”
“So, you think the Sheik is ⦠what? Gaining leverage for pictures by stealing my tampon? Or just angling for magazine ink?”
“No,” Christal clarified, “but I think he's figuring to make a great deal of money somehow. That, and it's an ego thing. Something to do with control and power.”
“Ah, we're back to witches again?”
Christal cocked an eyebrow and nodded. “Yes ⦠no. I've got a gut feeling that it's similar to what my ancestors fretted about, but with a very different twenty-first-century twist. Power and greedâjust like in ancient Southwestern witchcraftâlie at the bottom of this. It's about feeding a craving hunger, and the hunger is called desire.”
“It frightens me that I've been in this business long enough to think you're right.” She rubbed her face, a dull pain behind her eyes.
“You look terrible. You taking uppers?” Christal asked,
and immediately regretted it. Damn it, her mouth had been getting her in trouble all of her life.
and immediately regretted it. Damn it, her mouth had been getting her in trouble all of her life.
“Some,” Sheela admitted, pointing to the scripts on the floor at her feet. “Rex is after me to make a decision. Hell, I can't even remember what I read.” She picked up a pill bottle from the table, rolling it between her fingertips. The little pills inside rattled like Death's whisper. “If he wasn't pushing so damned hard I ⦠God, there's just not enough of me to go around.” Her eyes sharpened. “It goes against my principlesâtaking these things.”
Christal studied her, seeing the fragility in her eyes, in the set of her shoulders. The woman was ready to fall into a thousand pieces. What the hell was the matter with these people? “I may be out of place asking, but why are you doing this? I mean, treating yourself this way?”
“People depend on me.” She said it with all the sorrow of the saints. Then she asked, “What do you think about honor, Christal?”
“That's not a question I get asked every day.”
“I guess today is your day.”
Christal straightened, rubbing her hands together. “Very well, I think honor is the root of integrity. It comes with certain core principles that govern every waking moment of our lives. I'm a Catholic at heartâfrom the old church, the one that says you're going to have to pay for every sin you commit.”
“Do you have principles, Christal?”
She smiled wryly. “Unfortunately. They keep getting in my way. The last time I violated them, I got slapped down pretty hard. I'm working overtime to keep from paying for any more mistakes.”
Sheela nodded, then asked another curious question. “Do you depend on me?”
“God, no! What kind of silly question is that? I have a great deal of respect for you. In fact, I wonder how in hell you can keep it together with all this shit coming down. Depend? No. Sorry. I have my own life, thank you.”
Sheela stared into the distance, and Christal saw the brittleness, the cracks that were running through her psyche.
This was a glimpse of what Sheela Marks would look like when she was old and worn through by life.
This was a glimpse of what Sheela Marks would look like when she was old and worn through by life.
Christal asked, “Doesn't Rex see what's happening to you? Doesn't anyone care if they push you into the abyss?”
A chilling smile lay on Sheela's lips. “I'm property. A trademark. Like Rex says, I may only have ten years left.”
“You'll be charred carrion if you don't do something for yourself.”
“I can't let everyone down. I did that once. Never again.”
The resignation in her voice set Christal off. She leapt to her feet. “Maybe I ought to go down, lift Rex up by his tie, and have a little talk with him. Shit, he's treating you like you're his own private little hunting dog! So what if runs you to death, he's Rex fucking Gerber, he can always get another dog, huh?”
Sheela laughed out loud, the sound of insanity barely hidden in the peals. And then, to Christal's amazement, Sheela's swollen eyes began to leak tears.
“Hey, it's okay.” Christal knelt in front of her and took her hands. Mother trucker, what did she do now? Sheela's tears left her oddly uncomfortable, embarrassed. She'd never been a good one for hand patting and consolation. “Sheela?”
The woman sniffed, pulled her hands away, and wiped at the tears. Christal watched as Sheela Marks pulled herself together with Herculean effort.
Sheela took a deep breath, then whispered, “Sorry. I don't know where that came from.”
“It's okay.”
Sheela shook her head. “Isn't it funny? Surrounded by all these people, and I have to call you to fall apart in front of.” A grin. “I could have a therapist, like all the rest. You can't throw an apple core into the bushes here without hitting one.” A pause. “Somehow that just doesn't suit my practical Saskatchewan upbringing.”
“My New Mexican one either.”
“Well, thanks for listening.” A pause. “Would you do something for me, Christal? Something personal?”
“It would depend. Don't forget that I come from a law enforcement background.”
Sheela looked up, desperation in her eyes. “I need to get away for a couple of days. I need to go someplace where no one can find me. I just need time to myself. Can you help me with that?”
“Sure. I mean, maybe. I'd have to know where you were going. My first concern would be for your safety.”
“I'll be very safe. I'll have protection close at hand.”
“I'd have to tell Lymon.”
“Yes, but only him.”
“Okay, so, just where is this safe place?”
She sounded like a little girl when she asked, “Could I come and stay with you for a couple of days?”
“What?
Why me?”
Why me?”
Sheela took a deep breath. “Because, Christal, I just want to be a real person for a while. They're slowly draining me away. If I don't get out, find something to grab ahold of, I'm going to lose myself.”
Christal shook her head as if to throw the idea off. “You want to come stay with me ⦠in a hotel?”
Sheela nodded, her eyes down. “What if I told you that there was no one else I could depend on?”
“What about Lymon?”
“I'm asking this as one woman to another. I
need
to get away for a couple of days. Away from Rex, away from Tony, someplace where I can just sleep, watch TV, read a book, and be anybody but Sheela Marks.” She looked up, eyes glittering with desperation.
need
to get away for a couple of days. Away from Rex, away from Tony, someplace where I can just sleep, watch TV, read a book, and be anybody but Sheela Marks.” She looked up, eyes glittering with desperation.
“Yeah, I'm in. Let's do it,” Christal declared hotly. “And if Rex or Tony show up blustering, I'll eighty-six their asses right out of the place.”
Sheela seemed to melt in relief. “Thank you. You don't know what this means to me.”
Christal nodded, feeling the pieces of something falling into place deep in her mind. “One condition.”
“What's that?”
Christal pointed. “You toss those pills into that toilet back thereâand my place is yours.”
Sheela stood, walked back to the dressing room toilet, and upended the bottle. Pills cascaded into the bowl before she
ceremonially pressed the lever to flush them. When she reentered she looked more alive, a faint sparkle in her eyes. Artfully, she tossed the empty plastic bottle to Christal. “It's a deal.”
ceremonially pressed the lever to flush them. When she reentered she looked more alive, a faint sparkle in her eyes. Artfully, she tossed the empty plastic bottle to Christal. “It's a deal.”
Christal frowned. “Just one little problem: How are we going to do this? Sneaking you out of here is going to be like breaking you out of the federal pen.”
Sheela hesitated before she said, “I've got a plan.”
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