Chapter 2
Annabelle guided Sonya across the large lot, past the facades that served as a New York deli or Paris café or an old warehouse.
“It’s so impressive,” Sonya said. “I never realized that movies were made like this.”
“It’s a Hollywood secret,” Annabelle said.
Sonya couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s like this all the time,” Annabelle said. “You’ll get used to it.”
Stopping in front of a cute little bungalow, she stopped and turned, holding a keyring up. “And this is your temporary home.”
Sonya looked at the row of similar bungalows. “Is this for real or just a Potemkin village.”
Annabelle frowned. “I’m not sure I know what that means, but... yeah. It’s real. There’s a real bedroom, bathroom, a small kitchen and living area. You’re lucky. You also have a garage.”
Sonya took the keys. “Thank you.”
“Rest up. You’ll need it.” Annabelle said. “The next few days are going to be hectic. Heck, the next few weeks are going to be hectic.”
“I’m ready.”
“Good. And congratulations again. I wish you much success.”
“Does that mean that I won’t be seeing you around?” Sonya said. She’d already grown fond of the woman.
“I was called in to help with the casting. I’m already off to my next project. But don’t worry, Brian will take good care of you.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Sonya to explore her little bungalow on her own.
The space was small and smelled of a place that had been closed off to fresh air for far too long. Sonya immediately opened all the windows, despite the stifling heat.
As air flowed through the space, she looked around.
The bedroom was tiny with a single bed pushed up against the wall.
A simple knitted bedcover adorned the bed while two paintings of sad clowns hung on the wall.
On the floor beside the bed was a pale pink woven rug and a pretty figurine of a little girl and her dog sat on the dresser.
A narrow door led to a narrow closet. Fortunately, she had not brought much with her. No doubt the space would be more than enough to accommodate the few articles of clothing she had.
The living space consisted of a two-place couch and a small dining table with two chairs.
The kitchen was essentially a counter with a hot plate, a small stainless-steel sink and a mini fridge.
The bathroom was barely worth mentioning; a tight fit of a shower, a toilette and a sink so small, she wondered why they bothered.
After barely fifteen minutes to get her things stored away, she headed out to explore her new neighborhood.
A few houses down, she recognized the house that was used in the comedy, The Sorcerer’s Brew.
A little farther still she saw the grand family home to the Peterson’s, the family featured in Better Days.
It was all so surreal.
*****
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Sonya headed to the studio for the very first rehearsal.
The moment she walked in the door, she heard a familiar voice call out, “Hey, big sister.”
She turned to see Yolanda running up to her. With more strength than her tiny size could predict, she gave Sonya a tight hug.
“You’re...?”
“Yolanda! You didn’t forget your little sister, did you?”
Sonya forced a smile but felt uneasy around the girl’s familiarity. “Yes. Yolanda. What are you...?”
“I got a part.”
“Oh?”
“Queen,” she said, holding her arms out in a grand manner.
“You were cast as the queen?” Sonya said, finding Yolanda a little young for the part.”
“Well, the queen’s lady-in-waiting, actually. I was hoping for the queen... you know, all the fancy gowns.”
“Right. Well, I’m very happy for you.”
“Oh!” Yolanda called out. “Connie! Connie! Over here.” She leaned closer to Sonya and whispered. “This is the one who got my coveted part.”
Connie came up to them, regal in her stance. She immediately reminded Sonya of her own time in such a noble position.
“You’re the Songbird, aren’t you?” Connie said.
Sonya nodded.
“And that guy over there,” Yolanda continued to shout. “Eddie! Eddie!”
A young man in jeans a tattered tank top glanced over, uninterested. With a sneer he turned away.
“Well, anyway,” Yolanda said. “He’s the king.”
Sonya wanted to laugh. The young king was too much like the young royal who had sold her out. This was going to be an interesting adventure.
*****
AFTER THREE HOURS OF rehearsing, Sonya headed home, songs still playing in her head.
The first day of rehearsals had been rough.
Eddie had his head in the clouds, and Connie seemed to think a little too highly of herself.
It was hard to tell if she was simply taking the role of queen to heart, or if her haughtiness was really a part of who she was.
Humming one of the songs she’d learned, Sonya daydreamed, taking in all the sights and smells around her.
In her periphery, a movement caught her attention, and she turned in time to see Mr. Zwick sneaking out of one of the cottages.
He fumbled to zip up his pants, then struggled to stuff his shirt back in the waistband.
Satisfied with his state of dress, he hurried to his car parked by the curb.
Before he could drive off, a young buxom blonde emerged from the same little house.
Her dress was only partially buttoned and askew while her hair was half up and half bedraggled.
Little of her bright red lipstick remained on her lips. The rest smeared across her cheek.
Hmm, Sonya thought, keeping her head down. She would have never thought such a thing of Mr. Zwick. He seemed so serious and businesslike. He seemed like the type of man who had a lovely wife waiting at home for him.
She shrugged. Perhaps he did have a lovely wife waiting at home for him, and this was just his honey on the side.
Hollywood, she thought, rolling her eyes to the clear blue sky. The sun was edging its way down, but the air still retained all the warmth of the day.
Just as she neared her new home, her stomach reminded her of how little she’d eaten that day. A grapefruit for breakfast, a few bites of a sandwich for lunch and a nibble of an energy bar Yolanda insisted she try.
Famished, she turned away from her little bungalow and headed off the studio lot. Just across the street was a bar that also served peanuts, pickled eggs and pretzels.
“What’ll you have?” the young man behind the bar said.
“Um. I don’t know. What ladies drink out here in California?”
He smiled. “If you like it sweet, I could make a grasshopper for you.”
“Sounds intriguing. I’ll try it.”
As he prepared her drink she glanced around. The place was quiet despite the good number of patrons. People chatted as they sipped their drinks and nibbled on peanuts.
“Don’t worry about it,” a nearby woman told her male friend at the dark corner table. “I have everything under control.”
Sonya strained her ear to better eavesdrop.
“And when will this thing wind up?”
“I don’t want to rush it. I’m taking it slow. Safe and slow. I already made it into this production. Now that I’m in, the rest will be easy. I’ll slowly set the trap, then...” She clapped her hands loudly.
“Here you go,” the bartender said as he set the drink down in front of her.
“And could I have a pretzel with that?”
“Sure thing.”
Sonya brought her attention back to the nearby couple.
“Nothing is ever as easy as it seems.”
“Ha!” the woman let out, clearly amused by his skepticism. “Look at me, buddy. Take a good look at me. I always get my man. He’ll take one look at me, get a load of these melons and he’ll be putty in my hands. I guarantee it.”
“Okay. Yeah. You’re right,” the man said with a laugh. “I know this man likes them ripe and young.”
“And easy,” the woman added with a laugh.
“You said it. I didn’t.” With that, he stood and walked out.
Sonya nibbled on her pretzel while the woman stared into her nearly empty drink.
“Thanks, Tom,” she said as she gulped down the remains, then swung around on her stool and headed out.
Curious about this woman’s plan, Sonya left her drink behind and followed her out. Her face still hidden by a hat and wearing a trench coat, the woman’s pace was brisk, with purpose, as if she had a rendezvous with someone.
Sonya kept a safe distance, but when the woman turned a corner, she quickened the pace to find the woman in a man’s arms. Tall and cloaked in dark wool, he enveloped her in a way that wasn’t quite human.
His head was bowed low over her and other than a few quiet yelps, the woman was silent. The more Sonya focused on him the less human he seemed. A car passed by lighting him temporarily. Now it was clear. It wasn’t a cloak at all. The beast enveloped the young woman with large black leathery wings.
Sensing her presence, he looked up, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. He opened his mouth, letting out an odd growl while blood dripped off his fangs.
Sonya froze for a second, then the beast smiled, a strange and menacing smile. The smile snapped her out of her stupor, and she ran toward him. Just as she reached him, he flew straight up, cackling as he disappeared into the night.
The woman, limp and drained of blood, crumpled to the ground.
“Miss,” Sonya called as she cradled the woman in her arms. “Miss.”
No response came. The woman was lifeless, her glazed eyes staring into nothing.
As Sonya pushed her hair out of the woman’s face, she gasped. It was the same woman who’d walked out of that little bungalow earlier. The woman who’d been with Zwick.
“Why? What were you doing with him? And what were you planning to do?”
Patting the woman’s body, she found a small wallet tucked into the pocket of the woman’s skirt. Eager to know the woman’s identity, she pulled it out and gasped once again.
“Holy cow,” she let out. “Detective Rhonda Baker.”
The large breasted woman with bleached blond hair wasn’t some dimwit bimbo. She was a detective. But what was she working on. What could possibly bring a detective to a Hollywood studio? Particularly, the WUS Studio?
She looked at the unfortunate woman.
“And why have you been killed?” She looked up to the black sky. “And by what? A bat?”