Heaven Bent (11 page)

*****

 

Chapter
8

The cameraman bolted out of the way just in time. The car plowed through his camera, sending it flying, and would have plowed through him, too, if he'd been a second slower.

I could see Byzantine wouldn't be so lucky. The car was almost upon him as he boosted himself down from his director's chair.

I was already moving before I'd consciously considered what to do. Before I'd had a chance to think about whether to let him die, which after all was what the rebels had sent me there to do.

Action hero mode took hold, and I charged straight at Byzantine. Running as fast as I could, I swept him off his feet and propelled him backward, not sure if we'd get clear in time.

I felt the breeze from the car as it shot past, barely missing us. It came so close, I'm sure we'd have been clipped by a mirror if I hadn't tackled Byzantine to the pavement.

I heard the car crash into something with a shuddering boom, but I didn't look right away. I was too busy staring at Byzantine's face, which I expected to look stunned.

Instead, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"You saved me, bro!" His sharp-edged blue eyes were twinkling. "I
knew
you had it in you."

Scrambling to my knees, I turned to see what the car had hit. It had run smack into a trailer--one of the stars' dressing rooms--and crumpled like stepped-on origami. On the driver's side, M.B. was pinned by the deployed air bag, head lolling back. I couldn't tell if he was dead or alive...or whatever state he might be in after a car crash in Heaven.

As far as I could see, there was no trace of the misty wraiths that had been wrapped around him when he'd stomped on the accelerator.

"Stag!" Lillian sprinted over and helped me to my feet. "Are you okay?"

"I have
got
to stop doing my own
stunts
." I brushed off my clothes, then leaned down to help up Byzantine.

If the rebels could see me now.
Not only had I just saved the life of the man I was supposed to kill, but I was helping him get back on his feet. Looking around, I hoped E.P. and the gang didn't have agents on the set at that particular moment.

"Thanks for the assist, dude," said Byzantine.

"Yeah, yeah." As soon as he was standing upright, I rushed over to the car.

White-uniformed baldies from the film crew had deflated the air bag when I wasn't looking. Now they were having trouble hauling M.B.'s massive bulk out of the vehicle. There were three of them, and still they were struggling.

Against my better judgment, I gave them a hand. Together, we managed to free M.B. from the car and lay him on the pavement a few yards away, draped in his red-and-gold kimono.

As soon as we put him down, I felt for a pulse in his neck. There was nothing--at least at first. Pushing my fingers deeper into the fatty folds of his throat, I found it, fluttering away.

"Is there a hospital?" I looked up at Byzantine, who stood over us. "Some kind of metaphorical medical center?"

"Got it covered." Byzantine whistled, and two more baldies hurried over. He gestured, and the five men closed in, pushing me out. They found their grips, counted to three, and hoisted up the body with grunts all around.

As the baldies marched off with M.B., I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning, I saw E.T., our co-star, gazing after him with a look of deep distress on her glamorous face.

"I don't understand." Her voice was shaking. "What happened? Why did the car take off like that?"

I knew the answer, but I didn't think it would be smart to tell the truth. Better to keep my mouth shut about the wraiths, especially with Byzantine listening. "Must've been some kind of mechanical malfunction."

"It'll all come out in the wash, dudes." Suddenly, Byzantine was there between us, his arms around both our shoulders. "Meanwhile, we've got a movie to make!"

We both looked at him like he was insane.

Byzantine laughed. "Not
this
movie. Not until M.B. gets back to work. I'm talking about the
new
project. The one about a star saving the life of a noble director from the attack of a crazed actor, then teaming up with the director to bring order to a city under siege."

"Sounds great." I didn't say it with much enthusiasm.

"Glad you dig it, bro." Byzantine smacked me on the back. "You'll be playing the lifesaving star, of course!"

"Awesome." I looked at E.T., who was looking a little sad and worried. "Can she be in it, too?"

"Of course," said Byzantine. "She was part of the scene, wasn't she?"

"Thank you." E.T. said it graciously and bowed her head in my direction. "I'm looking forward to working with you both."

"Glad to hear it, 'cause we're starting
now
!" With that, Byzantine broke away from us and ran over to retrieve his megaphone where he'd dropped it on the ground. Then, he started bellowing at the remaining crew. "Somebody get me a handheld camera and make it snappy! I want everything on film from here on out." As the baldies scrambled, he lowered the megaphone and grinned at us. "Now who wants a
day
named after them?"

*****

Glittering confetti showered down as we rode through Heaven on a huge float--one that actually
floated
, gliding weightlessly through the air.

It looked like a mobile movie theater cast in solid gold. Gold-skinned Oscar statuettes sat in the golden seats, eating popcorn from golden cartons. Gold curtains framed the gold-trimmed screen, on which film of my rescue of Byzantine played in an endless loop. Along the base of the float, in big gold letters that looked like the famous "HOLLYWOOD" sign, was the word "HEAVENWOOD."

As for me, I stood beside Lillian on a round dais that looked like a gold-plated reel of film. It hovered high above the Oscars in the seats, turning in slow circles. Byzantine stood on an identical hovering dais that orbited the float from end to end. A cameraman with a handheld camera zipped around on a third dais, filming the festivities from various angles.

All around us, angels in golden armor soared and spun among flocks of doves and colorful tropical birds, clapping and cheering as they flapped past. On the ground below, vast crowds watched and applauded and chanted my name.

A dazzling lightshow of rainbow colors danced over the dome. Rock 'n' roll anthems boomed through the vast space, arranged and performed in my honor by the king of queenly glam rockers, the one and only F.M.

All of it was part of official Stag Lincoln Day, which Byzantine had declared a mere two hours ago.

"I gotta say..." As yet another grinning angel flew up close, I gave him my patented Hollywood smile-and-wave. "They sure know how to throw together a party
fast
in this place."

"Celebration's an important part of life here." For all the excitement surrounding us, Lillian didn't sound too thrilled. "We're big on worship."

I made sure the camera was nowhere nearby before I said the next thing on my mind. "So all these people are overjoyed that I saved Byzantine's life?" I said it through my smile. "They're all
this
happy?"

Lillian didn't answer.

Maybe I should've stopped there, but I had a feeling we might be on a similar wavelength. Though Future Me had me thinking she might not be my daughter--in which case she'd been lying from the start--I thought maybe she was still worth reaching out to.

So what the hell. "Are
you
happy?" I went and said it.

"Of
course
I'm happy you saved him," she said.

"That's not what I meant." Another angel swooped up to us. I gave him a high five before he barrel-rolled away. "I meant are you
happy
? In
general
." I shot Lillian a look.

I could see my answer in her eyes before she slid her gaze away from me. "Everyone's happy in Heaven."

"Not everyone," I said, still smiling. "And not you."

She didn't say a word.

"Why is that?" I looked at her again. This time, I thought I could see strain in her stony expression. "Why aren't you happy, Lillian?"

She turned to me. "What do you care?"

Because you're my daughter.
I could have said that and played along with the charade...but I didn't. "Because I do. I care about you as a person." The world seemed to melt away as I focused all my attention on her, as I spoke to her from the heart. "I don't like seeing you unhappy."

Lillian frowned, and blinked, and then her stone wall fell away. For the first time, instead of phony congeniality or barely concealed displeasure, I caught a glimpse of vulnerability. She gaped at me, raw and searching and uncertain; actor that I am, I knew exactly whom I was looking at in that moment.

It was the real Lillian. I was finally seeing the real person inside the disguise, the real woman behind the black-and-white diagonal-striped lips.

And then, before either of us could do anything about it, a familiar voice shattered our connection. "Hey, bro! Guess you'll have to save my life more often!"

Byzantine zoomed up on his dais and stopped beside us. Immediately, Lillian's mask slid back into place.

So did mine. "This is awesome, dude! I can't thank you enough!"

"This is
nothing
!" Byzantine swept his hands apart. "Wait till you see what
else
I've got cooked up for you."

"Bring it on!" I laughed and bumped fists with him. "Now
this
is the life!"

"
Afterlife
, dude!" Byzantine laughed, then pointed at the approaching cameraman. "Here comes the paparazzi!" Nimbly, he hopped from his dais to ours, making it sink a little before it adjusted to the added weight. Then he threw his arm around my shoulders, grinning for the camera. "Time for a front page shot, bro!"

Suddenly, the cameraman lowered his equipment and made a shooing gesture at Lillian. "Could you step off the disk, please? I just want to get the two of them."

Lillian's eyes met mine for an instant. Then, she stepped onto Byzantine's abandoned dais, which floated beside us.

"Now just scoot away, would you?" said the cameraman.

I wasn't sure how she controlled the other dais, but she moved it away from us. I watched her go, wondering when I'd get the chance to see through her façade again.

Then, I turned to the camera and smiled.

Byzantine couldn't resist putting two fingers behind my head like rabbit ears. "Say
cherubs
!"