Heartland (31 page)

JayJay really looked at her for the first time. Saw the pain. The lonely hours. And something more. A new light. A calm that had not been there before. “You're a real friend.”

Claire tasted a smile. “I guess that will have to do.”

Miller was waiting when he turned around. “Thought maybe we should have us a time of prayer.”

JayJay did not recognize most of the people in the room. Peter was there. Derek had slipped in and was standing by the door leading to the stage. His two tame grips. Miller. Claire. The other four men and three women were strangers. Not that it mattered. “Sounds good.”

“Folks, I'd like you to meet John Junior. JayJay, these are friends.

Guess that's about all you need to know right now.” Miller said to the room, “Let's go to the Lord.

“Father, we're just so in awe of what You can do when we let You in.

Bringing us all here together, setting this man up for our message to get out, why, it's a miracle in action is what it is. And we're grateful. We're scared, we're worried about the future of our towns and our valley. But we're grateful too. Because like the Good Book says, we trust that You have given us the victory. So be with our brother here tonight. Arm him with Your wisdom and Your message. Make him the hero we need to have here. In Christ's holy name do we pray, amen.”

JayJay lifted his head to discover that Britt had slipped in and was standing beside Derek. Britt motioned to the makeup lady, who had never set foot in one of their morning sessions and now looked about as out of place as a cat in a cage of wolfhounds. Britt watched her retouch the work she'd done on JayJay's face before they left the hotel, and asked, “Claire speak with you?”

Claire said, “JayJay Parsons is going to do just fine tonight.”

Britt nodded and said to her, “Derek's got you a spot marked out.”

Claire patted JayJay's arm as she passed and said, “I'll tell you what I'm seeing here, JayJay. You have the whole world just waiting to be on your side.”

Britt thoughtfully watched her depart, then said, “Miller suggested this group of leaders should be onstage with you. I like the idea. But it means people seated behind you where you can't see them. If they're up there, you'll need at some point to turn and address them too. We haven't practiced that.”

Miller said, “Couple of the mayors from up and down the valley, a county commissioner, some pastors. Just your basic posse.”

Britt kept his gaze on JayJay. “It's your call.”

JayJay was glad to hear his voice remain steady. “Can't hardly tell prayer partners to go away, can I.”

“Derek, get them settled and check the background lighting.”

“Sure thing.”

Britt held back as the others filed out. The door was open now, which meant they could stare across the stage and through the open curtains and out over the massed audience. Britt said, “I've been in this business a long time. I thought I'd seen it all. A star backstage, with the camera ready and the pressure on, basically they get whatever they want. A director learns to ignore whatever it takes to get them turned on and shining bright. The drugs, the booze, the sex, it's all just part of the business. When I heard about this prayer group of yours, I figured, okay, it's just one more for the books. But now . . .”

For the first time since seeing Kelly, JayJay felt the clouds part.

Britt kept talking softly to the crowd and the stage and the waiting podium. “In all my years in this trade, I've never . . . The work we're getting in the can is solid. We're ahead of schedule and under budget.

All without a finished script. Shot by a DP who's never directed filming. And a star who's never seen the business end of a camera.” He shook his head. “I don't know. This is . . .”

JayJay supplied quietly, “A miracle.”

Britt just kept staring out over the crowd.

JayJay said, “You'd be welcome to join us some morning.”

Britt let the words rest there between them for a moment. Then he turned and looked at JayJay. “You ready?”

JayJay replied, “I am now.”

The bombshell came midway through the second take and caught them all unawares.

There had been minor surprises from the very beginning. JayJay walked out and did exactly as Britt had scripted, which was to approach the podium, blow on the mike, and say, “I'm JayJay Parsons and I'm not running for anything.”

And a woman's voice called out from somewhere far back, “Honey, you got my vote anyway.”

Which was not scripted anywhere JayJay had seen.

Afterward Britt assured them all he had not set that up.

The morning practice had been grueling. But it gave him the space to be two people. The man who worked through the scripted actions with a slow and steady ease. And the man who reached into the cauldron located between his gut and his wounded heart and pulled out the acid. And put it to good use.

He set his hat on the table beside the water pitcher and the glass. He adjusted the mike, and he started, “This is my home. My valley. Y'all are the only kin my sister and I have. We
care
for this place, and for these people.
Our
people.
All
of them. And that's the problem. We've let outsiders come in here and split us up.”

The audience was one massive wriggle. There were so many people the air felt compressed. Every kind of face stared back at him, every age. Mexicans, African-Americans, Asians, whites. Angry, eager, skeptical, squinting, smiling, frowning, yawning. Kids bounced on mothers' knees. Ropey-armed farmers prodded their neighbors and spoke behind leathery hands. Derek's lights pointed directly into his face, just as Britt had said they would, bathing his universe with a slightly yellowish tint.

“We've got developers who want our water and our land. And you know what's so awful about this? We're letting 'em do pretty much whatever they want. Why? Because we've forgotten what it's like to be a community. We've got the ranchers, and then there's the citrus growers, and the village shops, and the folks who've settled here over the past few years. All of us roped off and quarreling. Ready to go to war, only we don't know who with. One day it's the 'crats up in Sacramento. The next it's a rancher we reckon might be out to steal our water. The next, and, well, you know who comes next. Don't you?”

He turned around then. Doing what Britt said, which was to look at the semicircle behind him. But it just happened to come as two things occurred. A white-haired lady official started nodding. And not just with her head. With her entire upper body. Rocking back and forth, the motions causing her chair to squeak gently.

Two chairs over, Miller Whitley, the mayor of Salton City, glanced at the lady and then back at JayJay. And gave him a single tight nod.

JayJay held Miller's gaze for a longer time than he should have, gripped by the realization that for these people he wasn't just an actor and this wasn't just a stage.

When he turned back, he'd forgotten his place.

He stood there, frozen by the billion images and sensations, until Claire called from somewhere down to his right, “Say it, JayJay!”

It was all he needed. “Everybody who knows Clara knows I got to obey my older sister.” Which got a laugh, and the laugh gave him time to remember where he was in the script. “The developers haven't divided us. They didn't need to. Why? Because we did it for them! We're
comfortable
with our arguing. We
like
pretending we're better than some of our neighbors.”

JayJay stopped and took a sip. His hand trembled. But he wasn't scared. He just needed to stop his lips from sticking.

It was then he noticed the first change.

The audience had stopped moving.

The hall was wooden-framed and about seventy yards deep and forty wide. A big U of a balcony ran around the back, supported by wrought-iron pillars painted the same color as the walls. And the place was just packed. A thousand souls, fifteen hundred, the numbers meant nothing. What mattered was the stillness. Like they'd just stopped breathing. All of them. Even the kids.

They stayed that way right through to the end.

And beyond.

When JayJay finished, he stepped away from the microphone. The script said there was to be applause. But the folks out there apparently hadn't read the screenplay. They just stayed right where they were.

Tight and quiet.

So JayJay went over to the one empty chair in the semicircle and sat down.

The rustling started then. But not much. Folks talked quietly among themselves. Britt rose from his place between the monitor station and Derek's camera and walked down the central aisle. He climbed the stairs and moved behind the microphone. “Okay, that was great. We're going to need about ten minutes to get ready for the next take. Anybody who's had enough, now's the time.”

Nobody moved.

“Right. Fine.” Britt started to turn away, then went back to the mike and said, “We're going to release a little smoke for effect. We're using an inert gas. Not much. Don't anybody get alarmed. We're trying to filter the lights a little is all.” He inspected the audience a moment longer, then said, “Kelly, all the others, this next time I want to move straight into your responses. No stop between takes. You all ready?”

There was a chorus of assent from the audience. JayJay tried to locate Kelly, but could not with the lights in his face.

“Derek, do what we discussed with the second camera. And get your steadicam ready.”

His voice called from the back, “Got it!”

Britt moved to where JayJay was seated. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Ready to go again?”

“Say the word.”

“We can stop for a break.” Britt spoke leaning over, his hands planted on his thighs. “But I'd say let's try for one more.”

“Fine by me.”

Britt said to the mayor, “I'm having our electricians check the outside speakers. I'm not sure we'll want to try and shift this crowd and then gain this same feeling a second time.”

“You're the man with the whistle.” Miller cleared his throat. Said to JayJay, “Hoss, you gave me chills.”

JayJay asked Britt, “Any word on how you want me to change the next take?”

Britt inspected him a moment, then said, “Can you see the audience?”

“Some. The lights—”

“Forget the lights. Can you
feel
what's happening in here?”

“I guess maybe I can.”

“Good. That's what I want. For you to feel what you've done and do it again.”

They left him alone. Somebody came over and handed him a cup of coffee. JayJay took a sip and set it down between his boots. The pastor who had delivered Sunday's sermon was seated on JayJay's other side.

He opened his Bible and began reading. Just turning the pages and keeping his head down. The rustling paper had a calming effect. The makeup lady came over and did something to his face. JayJay let Derek draw him back to the mike and take a couple of light readings. Derek wore an earpiece attached to his walkie-talkie, so all JayJay heard was what Derek said, which was, “We're totally good to go at this end.”

Britt did not even return to the front. He just called from the back of the room, “Okay, JayJay. We're rolling. Just move offstage and walk forward. Whenever you're ready.”

But when JayJay was behind the curtain and about to make his entry, the pastor rose from his seat. The reverend approached the podium, bent the mike down a fraction, and said, “Brothers and sisters, I've felt the Spirit move this evening. And I want you to hear what the Spirit has said. Hear, now, the Word of our Lord.” He opened his Book and said, “First Samuel, chapter nine, verse six. ‘Look now, there is in this city a man of God, and he is an honorable man; all that he says surely comes to pass. So let us go there; perhaps he can show us the way that we should go.'”

JayJay walked out to another dose of silence. He dropped the opening comment. Instead, he adjusted the mike, took a breath, and launched straight in.

The speech read out at three minutes and eleven seconds. Which, according to Britt, came to something like nineteen years in film time. They were going to cut it down. A lot. Maybe transpose some of the words JayJay spoke here to other spots. Such as, show him in the barn working the horses, and feed in a voice-over. That was one idea. As though cowboys couldn't write unless it was on a feedbag with a worn pencil by lantern light with a horse looking on. Britt called it atmosphere. JayJay called it pretty silly. All these things came and went through his mind as he plowed through the talk a second time. He was concentrating, sure. But his mind was racing faster than a herd of spooked cattle. So he was thinking and he was wandering. Looking at how the sunset splashed through the side window. Noticing how Derek had gone to a paler light because of how the sunset was offering natural color. Looking back over his shoulder to see if the lady was still marking time with her upper body. She was.

Then it happened.

Somewhere out beyond the light's barrier, a voice called out, “Now you just hold on there a second.”

JayJay faltered, as he could not recall having read any such line in the script. Or having a pause in the middle like that. He wondered if this was one of Britt's little surprises.

Then a spot swiveled over, and JayJay realized he had never seen the guy before.

The man had a shark's smile and a suit to match. Little string tie with a turquoise clasp. Voice that said he was used to being the center of attention. “Name's Whip Mitchum, with Triad Developers. You ask any of the farming families we've turned into millionaires. We're the best friends the San Joaquin Valley's ever had. Now are you going to sit here and listen while this outsider twists things around and—”

Then it was Kelly's turn. “Bub, you remind me of a man desperate to stop the river after the flood's done come and gone.”