Chapter 28 Lee
Lee
Lee wore her Gucci sunglasses to the press conference, hoping to shield her eyes and her psyche against the glare of the bright camera lights.
Regan’s heels—a size too small for Lee—were very uncomfortable.
Lee angled her head downward as Markos spoke in Greek to the massive crowd of reporters and lookie-loos.
What was Markos saying? He wore a different rumpled outfit, his hair styled with even more pomade.
Atop his cigarette fragrance, he’d layered a citrusy cologne (or maybe he’d eaten an orange).
As he spoke, he flailed his hands around passionately.
The crowd was utterly silent, hanging on his every word.
Lee watched Markos, reassured. It was nice to feel she wasn’t alone in this search. As they had entered the press conference, Markos had said, “Reporters will ask about your show. About your own…history.”
“I see,” said Lee.
Markos stood at a podium adorned with the official Hellenic Police emblem—a light blue shield over a cross, with an olive branch and the scales of justice.
The conference had been moved from the cramped press room to the front steps of the police station, and someone had thoughtfully set up a side table with coffee and water.
After his fevered speech, Markos gestured to her, as if she were a contestant on The Price Is Right. “Are you ready?” he asked, switching easily to English. “I will try to keep the questions to a minimum.”
“I’m ready,” Lee said. She felt the familiar shift happening—that click in her brain when Lee Perkins, the nervous mess, transformed into a star.
Her spine straightened. The trembling in her hands stilled.
This was what she knew how to do: Perform.
Be someone else. Be someone better, no matter what it did to her to pull it off.
She stepped up to the podium. The crowd in front of her was massive, spilling across city streets and causing a traffic jam. Lee was repulsed, resigned, and also…thrilled.
“My sister, Regan…” Lee paused and took a deep breath, beginning her show.
She knew exactly how to pitch her voice—not too high (hysterical), not too low (unfeeling).
She’d played this role before, hadn’t she?
The grieving relative on Law & Order SVU, the worried sibling on the Lifetime movie Slain Sister.
Lee fluttered her eyes closed, a gesture she’d perfected in her acting classes—vulnerability without ugliness—then started again, fully in “performance mode” now.
This was much easier than being herself.
“My sister, Regan, is a strong mother who came to Greece to make a new life for her daughters in your beautiful, historic city.” There was a murmur of appreciation.
“Something has happened to my sister, and we need to get her home. Regan, if you can hear me, I want you to know that I’m going to find you.
And your girls are safe with me. I’ll stay until you’re with them again.
The girls love you. And I love you.” She nodded, somber.
As soon as she was silent, reporters began shouting in English and Greek:
Are there any leads?
Το τελευτα?ο που ε?δατε την αδελφ? σα??
Is it true that your television show was canceled?
Is this related to your mental breakdown?
Lee froze behind the podium, alarmed. Even in her shock, Lee noticed she moved her hand toward her throat, a gesture she’d used in at least three different TV episodes to indicate I’m distressed…but very sexy.
Of course, the press knew about her hospitalization, and that she’d been hiding in her mother’s gated community in Savannah to allow herself to believe she’d gotten through her recovery unrecognized.
The careful character she’d constructed cracked—underneath was just Lee: mentally ill, washed-up, desperate for attention.
Markos stepped in front of the microphone, holding up a palm in a gesture to stop the barrage of questions.
“Regan Willingham’s disappearance is unrelated to her sister’s job.
Lee Perkins is here in Athens to assist the search.
No questions at this time,” he said. Lee moved back to the microphone.
“You do not have to say anything,” said Markos, furrowing his brow as if he wanted to add, Please don’t.
But Lee needed one more second in the spotlight. “Please help me find my little sister!” she said. She burst into tears, allowing the cameras to flash. “Help us, please,” she breathed, a perfect last whisper.
Markos put an arm across her shoulders and steered her away from the podium. Lee wanted to fight him and stay in front of the crowd, but his grip was tight. She inhaled, showily, even that calculated for the cameras, and turned away from her rapt audience.
The press conference, and Lee’s calculated breakdown, would reach everywhere, including Hollywood.