Someone Else's Fairytale (7 page)

“It looks
Mediterranean
,” said Lori as she pulled in behind the other cars parked in the driveway. There were a couple of Mercedes, but the car we were behind was a minivan with two children's carseats in the back. It had
California
plates and a rental company sticker on the back.

“Okay.” Lori turned to me. “How do I look?”

“Fine.”

“You look good.”

“Thanks.” I opened my door and stepped out.

“Ohmigosh!” Lori got out of the car. “We're about-”

“Lor, please.” This was a mistake, I just knew it.

But rather than bounce around or skip, Lori straightened her posture and squared her shoulders. “Okay, okay. I'll be you. Don't worry.”

I wasn't sure what she meant by that, but since it seemed to involve no more screeching, I didn't pry. The house door stood open and Lori and I approached it.

I wasn't sure if we should just walk in or what, but once we got close to the door, Jason stepped out and waved us in. He was wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts and sandals. “Hey!” he called out. “How was your drive?”

“Good,” I said. “This is my roommate, Lori.”

“Yeah, hi. Come on in.”

The entryway to his house did not have a giant, marble staircase. In fact, it was pretty normal looking, even a little narrow. There was a staircase that led up to an expansive kitchen and living area, where several other people were milling around. The smell of grilled meat and vegetables was in the air. One wall was open and beyond it was a pool deck. The pool was built like ones I'd seen in
Las Vegas
, with water spilling over the far end so that it looked like it went on forever, and the view was spectacular. Tree covered hills as far as the eye could see, dotted with mansions and not too much grungy haze in the air.

Lori seized my arm and clamped down tight. “It's Donovan Reilly,” she whispered. “Ohmi
gosh.
Okay, sorry, sorry.” She took a deep breath.

Jason, who'd followed us on the stairs, slipped past and said, “Okay, so let's see. Don, this is Chloe and Lori.”

Donovan Reilly stood over by the counter, all bleached blond hair and surfer tan. He turned and looked me up and down. I knew who he was, of course. He'd been in the
New Light
movies with Jason. I'd seen plenty of promo posters of the two of them in gladiator gear. He was at least ten years older than Jason.

“And I am the younger, better looking brother,” said a guy approaching from the pool.

“That's Steve,” said Jason.

Steve was much stockier than his brother, but he had a nice smile and a hand extended, which I shook. His eyes were blue, but not as blue, and his skin was pale. I suspected Jason's was the same color under that spray on tan.

His other hand, which grasped a glass of lemonade, sported a wedding ring.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“So you're from the Q?” he said.

“The Q?” said Donovan.

“
Albuquerque
,” said Jason. I could tell from the angle of his voice that he was going outside.

I nodded.

“You're at
UNM
?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. The law school. It's the family trade to sell our souls for money.”

“He's always been so supportive of my career,” hollered Jason.

“And I didn't want to come to
Hollywood
and overshadow my big bro. You know, he's so enthusiastic about his acting, and that's great and all.”

A few more people had filed in from the pool deck and one was a woman who patted Steve's shoulder on the way past. She had a baby balanced on her hip.

“Did you see that? My own wife patronizing me. What?” He held out his hands and followed her.

Someone tugged at my shorts and I looked down to see a little girl, wearing a sun dress, who stared up at me with wide, blue, Vanderholt eyes.

“That's Maddy,” said Steve. “Honey, come over here.”

Jason strolled back in. “Shan,” he said to Steve's wife. “We can cover the pool if you want.”

“Actually, I was thinking of putting their swimsuits back on and letting them play some more. Is that all right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jason went into the kitchen and came to lean on the counter.
“You thirsty?” he asked me. “We've got lemonade, soda.”

“Lemonade would be great.”

“Howabout you, Lori?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He poured two glasses and set them out on the counter for us.

“Sooo,” I heard Donovan Reilly say, “you're from
Albuquerque
?”

Lori giggled in reply. “Yeah.”

“First time in LA?”

“Uh-huh.”

“First time in a house like this?”

“Yeah.”

“Jason's keeping it real tonight. No caterer. No chef.”

“You have a chef?”

A couple more people wandered out from the back and Jason introduced me to them. None of them were famous enough for me to recognize, and from the look of them, I wondered if they were all even actors. What surprised me was that they were all male. I'd expected Corey Cassidy to be around somewhere, but maybe she had another movie to make or something.

“How's it look?” Jason said. He was back out on the pool deck. “Rice is almost done.”

“I think it's okay,” came Steve's voice. There was a puff of smoke and the scent of roast vegetables and meat came even stronger. I realized they were grilling out there. “I dunno if Jen would approve.”

“You tell her you cooked it, she would. You mention I touched it, no way.”

Steve cracked up at that. “It's true.”

“Seriously, she thinks you're her twin and I'm the dorky little brother.”

“It's because you're not married. No kids to make you respectable.”

Jason wandered back in, a resigned smile on his face.

“Jen your sister?” I asked.

“My mean sister, yes.”

“Older?”

“By three minutes. Not that she'll ever let me forget it.”

“Hey.” Steve followed him in. “Don't complain. You took off in high school and left me alone with her.”

“She mean to you too?” I asked.

“Worse.” He patted his stomach. “She's a chef. Ruined me. It's the real reason I'm not an actor.” He gave a dramatic sigh.

“Right, that's the reason,” said Jason.

“Now who's being mean?” Steve grinned. “I think we're ready.”

“'Kay.” Jason went outside and around the corner. His kitchen, now that I got a good look at it, was something else. All industrial grade appliances in stainless steel. It was like the Flying Star kitchen, almost. The countertops were granite and the cabinets were a trendy, medium tone wood with abstract artsy handles.

“Here we go!” Jason announced. He and his brother put platters piled high with veggies and meat on the counter. Steve dumped a handful of kebab skewers into the sink. Jason put out plates and dished brown rice from a rice cooker into a bowl, and the buffet was ready. “Here,” he said to me. He spooned me up some rice and asked, “You eat meat?”

I nodded.

He put both veggies and meat on my rice and handed me the plate.

“Thanks,” I said.

He handed me a fork and grabbed my lemonade glass. I watched him refill it while everyone else helped themselves to the food.

“Thanks,” I repeated, as I received my glass back.

“We just eating out on the deck?” Donovan Reilly asked.

“Can if you want. Or there's a table in the other room,” said Jason.

“Nah, the weather's nice,” said Bill, one of the other guests I'd met. He went out to sit in one of the metal pool chairs and everyone else followed suit.

I found a spot on a chaise lounge and put my glass down on the ground. The view from the deck really was spectacular. Steve's wife emerged from a doorway across the deck, wearing a swimsuit and sarong. Their two kids were in suits and floaties and made straight for the pool, despite her protests that they not run.

I realized the part of the house she'd come from wasn't attached to the rest of the building. It wasn't part of the house. It was a guesthouse, and it was bigger than my house. Unreal.

The lounge chair creaked under me and a shadow fell across my plate. I looked up. Donovan Reilly had sat down, rather close to me. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi.”

Jason wandered over with his plate and glass and took a seat nearby.

“Soooo, nice view, huh?” Donovan stretched out an arm.

“Mmm-hmm.” I ate a forkful of food.

“This your first time in LA?”

“No. I was here last fall for a symposium.”

“A sym-po-si-um.” He sing-songed the word. “What was the symposium on?”

I sipped my lemonade and put the glass down again. “Diplomatic considerations in antiquities preservation.”

“Diplo-what?”

There was no point repeating myself. I just ate more food.

He leaned over and put his arm behind me. Not exactly around me, but enough to give me the general idea.

I turned and stared at him.

His smile faded. He sat back and gave me some more personal space. “You do... what was it? Antiquities preservation?” So he had heard me when I told him the symposium title.

“No, but I co-wrote a paper on digging artifacts in an active warzone.”

“Have you done that?” Jason asked.

“I screened some dirt in
Chiapas
, during a big teacher's strike that led to some deaths,” I said.

“Screened dirt?” said Donovan.

“Yeah, like sifting it,” said Jason. He mimed shaking a screen back and forth. “I got to do that one afternoon. Went to a Roman dig while we were shooting. It was really interesting.”

“I did it for a whole summer,” I said.

“Really? You were on a dig in
Chiapas
as an undergrad?” said Jason. “And you authored a
paper?”

“Co-wrote. Yeah.”

“So we got ourselves a smart one here,” said Donovan.

I just ignored him then. My food was way more interesting than his condescension.

He was silent for a long time. When I looked up, he and Jason were looking at each other, levelly. Jason had a slight smirk on his face.

“I'm Don, by the way,” Donovan said to me.

“Right, Donovan Rielly. I recognize you.”

“Yeah... that's my stage name. It's just Don. Short for Donald. Smithers.”

“Oh, okay.” I looked at Jason.

“I use my real name,” he said.

A few minutes later, Don got up for seconds and Jason pulled his chair closer. “So how've you been since I saw you last?” he asked.

“Been good. Getting ready for school to start.”

“Yeah, I'll bet.” He looked down at my leg.

I followed his gaze. My scar was easy to see in this light. My hand tightened on my fork. He went to a Roman dig when he did
New Light
. What other research had he done for his roles? I moved my leg and, stupidly, revealed the scar on the other side of my calf.

He blinked.

I froze.

“You taking all classes for your major senior year?” he asked. “Or, I should say majors?”

“I have to do a ton of biology credits, since I only just added that major.”

“A lot of people just take an extra year for two majors.”

“I'm ready to be done.”