Remains to Be Scene (19 page)

A
dam and Judith simultaneously stood to greet Polly when she made her long-overdue entrance down the Scarlet O’Hara Memorial Staircase and into the cavernous living room.

“La, what a day!” Polly lamented as she wafted to their sides and presented a cheek for the obligatory Hollywood-style air kiss greeting. “Adam, you’re a dream,” she said as his beard-stubbled face grazed her skin. “That you tolerate legends who can’t be on time is a miracle,” she added and accepted his dismissal of any appearance that she might be tardy for her own dinner party. “And Judith, you seductive thing. Looking as bright as always,” she raved without paying attention to what her guest was wearing.

“So sweet of you both to clear your calendars to join us for a quiet family evening at Pepper Plantation,” Polly insisted.

“Now, about my being a bit off the clock!” Polly lied an unnecessary apology. “As you know from first-hand experience, I’m never late. This is practically the first time in the history of the universe! It’s mostly the fault of that pesky reporter from
The Peeper
who would not stop asking inane questions! Honestly, how many ways are there to explain that I’m new to the young circle of talent in
Detention
and that as far as I know Dana Pointer and Sedra Stone were just dear girlfriends? That so-called journalist had all these crazy notions—which I won’t bore you with. Then there was a meeting for a new play—which of course I turned down flat. But nicely. Honey,” she said, looking at Adam, “those hacks over at The Majestic need your clever take on contemporary theatre if they’re ever going to succeed in turning that depressing-as-hell Sylvia Plath collection into another
Vagina Monologues
!

“After that I was shackled to a booth at the Polo Lounge—I swear it was almost white slavery—for a meeting with Whatshisname, that director. You know the one, tallish, sort of cute, but not really. Well maybe a decade or two ago. Ego the size of the
Titanic
. Thinks he’s king of the world just because he made a movie about a big ol’ jagged chunk of the arctic floating around in the middle of the ocean sinking perfectly lovely boats. From the way he heaped praise on himself and his one movie, you’d think that practically everyone on the planet had turned out to see it. Jerry Bruckheimer he’s not! My lack of familiarity with his little opus didn’t go over too well, I’m afraid. But frankly, I’m fine with that because all of his ex-wives are dear friends of mine and I wouldn’t jeopardize the friendships I’ve established by working with their mutual
bete noir
. I’m as loyal as Lassie. Ask anyone.”

Polly finally came up for a breath of air.

Tim and Placenta pretended to be as intrigued by Polly’s eventful day as Adam and Judith were. It was a testament to her talent as an actress, or as a liar, that nobody ever questioned the veracity of her tall stories.

“But enough about me and my tales of a wasted day,” Polly continued, practically trembling with a need for champagne. “I see that Tim and Placenta have you set up with drinkies and nibbles. Excellent. I’ll join you for a wee nip. Timmy?”

Tim was handing her a chilled flute even before she completed her request. Polly took a long pull of what was for her a rejuvenating tonic. “Ah, yes!” she sighed, almost smacking her lips, while simultaneously taking a seat on the Le Corbusier chair that Placenta had guarded in the center of the seating area. “When I go to my final reward, it won’t be any better than this,” she said, looking around the room. “Cheers, everyone!” Polly raised her glass. “Now, whose jugulars did you rip into before I arrived? Arnold and Maria? Warren and Annette?”

Tim recapped highlights of the small-talk that had been ricocheting among the gathered while Polly was upstairs putting final touches to her make-up and eavesdropping over the intercom, stalling for the precise moment to make her entrance. “We jabbered about Dana, of course. Did you know that she was an orphan? Yeah, Adam says…”

“…Abandoned the day she was born, poor thing,” Judith interrupted. “Her mother was apparently too busy with a career and made arrangements with an Amish charities home in Pennsylvania.”

“I’m surprised we never read about that in
The Peeper
—or heard it on Anderson Cooper,” Placenta said.

Polly looked astonished. “Poor baby. No wonder Dana’s such an angry and sullen little thing. Curious though. This is the second time today I’ve heard that rumor,” she lied.

“Adam does his homework when it comes to knowing as much as possible about the stars with whom he works,” Tim said. “Ammunition to keep ’em in line, I suppose. Right Adam? Oh, and then we talked about the rumor of Sedra’s secret screenplay,” Tim continued. “Wouldn’t you know it, Adam and Judith were shocked that such a rumor was running rampant. They don’t believe that such a thing exists.”

“I’ll bet you’ve got a hot book on the burner,” Adam smiled at Polly trying to redirect the subject.

“
Moi
?” Polly said. “Hardly! I’m too busy
living
my life! I don’t have time to write about it! Anyway I don’t dwell on the past.” She looked at Placenta and gave her a nonverbal warning to not contradict her statement. “But if and when I eventually do sit down and put pen to paper, I’ll have only lovely things to say about you and what a divine time I had being in
Detention
—however brief. Alas.”

Adam waved away Polly’s suggestion that their time working together was over. “We’ll soon be back on location,” he said. “So much depends on the D.A. Thank God we’re in Los Angeles, where
stars in stripes
are as common as girls who’ve serviced Charlie Sheen.”

“Bail’s been denied for Dana so she can’t finish the film,” Judith said. “We only had six more pages of script to shoot, for cryin’ out loud! Hell, even Robert Downey, Jr., gets to work between trials!”

Judith patted Adam’s leg soothingly then said to Polly, “Of course, you’ll have to include a flock of naughty nuggets in
your
tell-all. Something shocking that nobody would ever have guessed about you and your amazing life. Quote a lot of dead stars saying things that can’t be corroborated. The way that Sedra did. The dead can’t sue for libel,” she chuckled.

Tim contributed his own analysis. “I’ve known Sedra for as far back as I can remember,” he said. “Yeah, she was a mediocre actress all right. But
she
didn’t think so. Sedra Stone believed that Hollywood was damn lucky to have her working in the industry. I’ll bet her story would have been huge fun, as well as a box office hit, simply because it probably would have been filled with her own revisionist history on all the gossip we’ve heard about her over the years.”

“God, I hope so,” Adam replied. Tim and Placenta shot each other a quick, pointed glance.

“But we may never know,” Polly said, holding out her flute expecting it to be refilled by whoever was nearest the bottle.

“Because it doesn’t exist except in myth, is that it?” Adam said.

Polly sat up straight and squared her shoulders. “Not at all. The screenplay definitely does exist,” she said. “That darling security guard Duane says that he actually saw it. But the computer on which the script was being written has gone missing. Can you imagine? No one can find it. He said that studio security teams have searched high and low.”

Judith interrupted. “Duane? He can’t be trusted with anything more important than checking off names on a set visitor’s list. And he gets that wrong. You believe him? I wouldn’t,” she said. “He’s a star struck wimp who bawled his head off the day that Sedra jumped down his throat for not knowing who she was, and for trying to make her wait for a silly security clearance pass.”

Polly reached for a puff pastry ball hors d’euvre and played devil’s advocate. “Duane’s a sympathetic and harmless young man,” she said. “He’s been blinded by pixie dust. He only has eyes for one star—me. I know how he feels. I still have the hots for Tom Selleck. Never missed an episode of ‘Magnum, P.I.’ Duane is a by-the-book guy who didn’t know to allow Sedra Stone on the location set because she registers in his mind with about as much clarity as John Vivyan does for all of you.”

“Who?” everyone in the room asked at once.

“My point, precisely,” Polly said. “John Vivyan. Look him up in IMDb. You can’t expect anyone to know every celebrity who ever had their picture plastered on the cover of a fan magazine. Duane’s no different. Stars come and go so quickly in this town. And if he says that he saw a script in which I’m featured, I trust him.”

Adam spoke up. “Actually, just between us, I heard that he’s being let go from the studio. They have a three strikes policy and he just racked up his third demerit. I don’t know all the details,” Adam said in a solemn tone. “Something about bothering too many stars for autographs, and not punching his time card at the end of his shift. Stupid stuff, I’m sure. But I’m told he’s getting the boot on Friday. Tomorrow.”

Tim was dumbfounded. “That’s really too bad. Sure he was a fan, but he wasn’t a nuisance or anything.”

“Duane swears that he saw Sedra’s script in a desktop folder on a computer that she borrowed from the studio,” Placenta said, defending the guard. “If Sterling’s security force, an entity that picked up where the Gestapo left off when it comes to spying on their employees, can’t keep track of a laptop, then maybe it was taken by someone who didn’t like what Sedra was writing. Any idea who else knew that Sedra was cooking up a pot boiler?” Placenta thought for a moment then turned and said, “Judith?”

Judith was slightly startled. “Yeah, sure,” Judith responded dryly. “Inside job. Betcha ten to one that as the studio’s security representative on location, Duane snooped around, found Sedra’s screenplay, then sold the story to
The Peeper
. And that’s why he’s being fired.”

Polly made a sound that indicated she found the theory intriguing. “If one is writing a tell-all, they certainly wouldn’t leave the material out for wandering eyes. Wouldn’t want anyone getting wind that they may be in for the full Kitty Kelley treatment. Especially if, as you say, she had to throw in a lot of stuff about her friends—the dead ones as well as the living. No doubt I made the soiled pages.”

“I wonder if she mentioned the affair with Lawrence Welk?” Tim asked. “That was while she was still married to Dad! And we all love Nancy Sinatra, but you know how nasty Sedra was to her over the years. Hated everything but her boots. D’ya think she opened up about Kaye Ballard and their special relationship?”

“She certainly had a ‘special relationship’ with enough of my husbands!” Polly grumped.

“Join the club,” Judith said, then immediately regretted her declaration. All eyes turned to her.

“You’re not going to bring that up again, are you?” Adam asked petulantly.

“Oh, do!” Placenta said.

“Forget it,” Judith said. “I’m starved. When do we eat?”

It was nearly midnight by the time Adam and Judith practically stumbled out of the house and down the steps to their Jaguar. Giggling and fumbling for the car door lock with his key, Adam called back, “You guys are amazing! Thanks again for a swell evening. I’ll replace the tureen first thing tomorrow.”

“Don’t be silly,” Polly said. “It wasn’t Ming! Are sure you’re able to drive?”

“And if Placenta can’t get the bisque out of the table cloth, please let me know,” Adam said, ignoring the query about his suitability for driving. “Love you all. Bye.” Then they slipped into their respective car seats, and swiftly drove down the lane and out through the open gates.

Polly, Tim and Placenta stepped back into the house and closed the door. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” Polly snapped. “Thank God that’s over with.”

Tim set the gate alarm and Polly kicked off her shoes as she unclasped her earrings. She went to the antique hutch and dropped them into the pewter bowl. “Oh, by the way,” she called, “has anyone seen my Joan Crawford Oscar? I swear I put it here a couple of weeks ago.”

Both Tim and Placenta responded nonverbally with as much apathy as if Polly had asked, “Whatever happened to Peggy Lipton?”

Tim began helping Placenta in the dining room, carrying coffee cups and desert plates into the kitchen. He bundled up the hand-crocheted lace tablecloth.

Polly looked at the once-ecru colored heirloom and sighed. “It really is your fault,” she said to Tim.

Tim shrugged his shoulders and gave in to Polly’s accusation. “I thought we were all having fun and getting along so well. I didn’t think that bringing up Dana’s jailhouse suggestion that Adam had had an affair with Sedra would cause such a reaction,” he said.

Polly said, “Oh, sweetie, it’s nothing. I probably would have done the same thing. But the next time you decided to regurgitate scuttlebutt don’t do it in front of the cuckolded girlfriend, especially while she’s passing a tureen of tomato bisque. Oh, this is simply a mess!” she added and walked into the kitchen.

“Placenta, dear,” Polly said. “What did you think of Judith’s cryptic comment about Sedra’s script? Remember she said that I should write a book, but to put in a lot of dirt ‘like Sedra.’” How would she know what Sedra had written about?”

Placenta continued stacking the dishwasher as she contemplated the question. As she carefully placed the silverware in the utensils basket, and with her back to Polly, she said, “Maybe the folks at our table this evening know more about Sedra’s life—and death and a missing screenplay—than the police do.”