Read Online Aurora 07 - Last Scene Alive by Charlaine Harris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlaine Harris
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alpha in our small group. After a few moments’ observation, I decided the determining factor wasn’t looks; it was attitude.
I acted like no one.
Celia and Meredith were playing the parts of dazzling celebrities who were being just folks, just like everyone else, no special treatment please! Will Weir, who, Robin had whispered, was actually one of the best known and most reliable cameramen in Hollywood, had a definite air of authority that put him firmly in the club, and Robin had a well-known face since he’d promoted his book on so many talk shows. Barrett was handsome, and he looked like an Actor.
Mark Chesney and I were the nonentities.
I wish I could say that this was just fine with me, that I hardly noticed it. At least, after five minutes of being mildly chagrined, I worked around to laughing at myself. After that I felt much better. Mark Chesney and I exchanged a smile that let me know he was on my wavelength. Barrett was glowing. I’d never seen him look happier. This evening was apparently a significant one for him, and as I watched him speak to Celia, I wondered if Barrett was attempting a conquest. Robin’s claim that he and Celia were no longer a couple seemed to be true; he didn’t seem at all concerned that Barrett and Celia were flirting openly and outrageously.
Barrett mentioned his previous visit to Lawrenceton when he was talking about the difficulty some of the cast was having in communicating with the locals. Our accent might be a little heavy to a Midwesterner’s ear, I guess.
“You’ve been to Georgia before?” Meredith asked, as if our state was remote and inaccessible.
“I thought everyone knew,” Barrett said. He certainly looked genuinely surprised. “My father lived here.”
“He doesn’t any longer?” Celia sounded interested and quite innocent.
There was a moment’s silence. Barrett and I looked at each other. “No,” Barrett said.
“Unfortunately, we lost him last year.”
Though that made Martin sound like a misaddressed package, I appreciated Barrett’s restraint, and I gave him a tiny nod. The subject was dropped, to my relief and, I’ll bet, to Barrett’s.
Robin and I were discussing the latest book by Robert Crais, whom Robin knew slightly—
now, to me that was thrilling—when I became aware that I was being observed. It was like noticing that a mosquito is hovering around your face, a sensation you can’t quite pin down and eliminate.
“But the Joe Pike character, how do you think he measures up compared to Hawk in the Parker books?” Robin asked. I was trying to formulate my reply when I glanced across the table and saw that Celia was silent and intent. She was observing me, and even as I looked at her I saw her hand move in a little hand twist that ended with the palm up. I hadn’t realized it was a gesture I made often until I saw Celia imitate it.
In a flash, I understood the whole purpose of my being invited along this evening. I could only wonder, in that horrible moment, if Robin had known.
I wanted to get up and walk out of the room and never see any of these people again, because I felt that Celia Shaw had been stealing from me. But in a contrary way, I also wanted to minimize the situation, because I was raised to avoid direct confrontations. Besides, what could I say? “You were copying me?” I hadn’t accused anyone of that since the third grade.
What could she reply? “Was not!”
“Just trying to get your flavor,” Celia explained, looking Sheepish with a capital S. She was playing someone feeling sheepish, rather than actually feeling that way.
“I don’t know how you’ve stood it,” I said to Robin, with more frankness than tact. Shoving back my chair and scooping up my purse, I excused myself to go to the Ladies‘.
The ladies’ room was supposed to look like a barn, God knows why. There were hay bales and corrals, and each “stall” was only shoulder high. Talk about carrying a theme too far. There was no
I acted like no one.
Celia and Meredith were playing the parts of dazzling celebrities who were being just folks, just like everyone else, no special treatment please! Will Weir, who, Robin had whispered, was actually one of the best known and most reliable cameramen in Hollywood, had a definite air of authority that put him firmly in the club, and Robin had a well-known face since he’d promoted his book on so many talk shows. Barrett was handsome, and he looked like an Actor.
Mark Chesney and I were the nonentities.
I wish I could say that this was just fine with me, that I hardly noticed it. At least, after five minutes of being mildly chagrined, I worked around to laughing at myself. After that I felt much better. Mark Chesney and I exchanged a smile that let me know he was on my wavelength. Barrett was glowing. I’d never seen him look happier. This evening was apparently a significant one for him, and as I watched him speak to Celia, I wondered if Barrett was attempting a conquest. Robin’s claim that he and Celia were no longer a couple seemed to be true; he didn’t seem at all concerned that Barrett and Celia were flirting openly and outrageously.
Barrett mentioned his previous visit to Lawrenceton when he was talking about the difficulty some of the cast was having in communicating with the locals. Our accent might be a little heavy to a Midwesterner’s ear, I guess.
“You’ve been to Georgia before?” Meredith asked, as if our state was remote and inaccessible.
“I thought everyone knew,” Barrett said. He certainly looked genuinely surprised. “My father lived here.”
“He doesn’t any longer?” Celia sounded interested and quite innocent.
There was a moment’s silence. Barrett and I looked at each other. “No,” Barrett said.
“Unfortunately, we lost him last year.”
Though that made Martin sound like a misaddressed package, I appreciated Barrett’s restraint, and I gave him a tiny nod. The subject was dropped, to my relief and, I’ll bet, to Barrett’s.
Robin and I were discussing the latest book by Robert Crais, whom Robin knew slightly—
now, to me that was thrilling—when I became aware that I was being observed. It was like noticing that a mosquito is hovering around your face, a sensation you can’t quite pin down and eliminate.
“But the Joe Pike character, how do you think he measures up compared to Hawk in the Parker books?” Robin asked. I was trying to formulate my reply when I glanced across the table and saw that Celia was silent and intent. She was observing me, and even as I looked at her I saw her hand move in a little hand twist that ended with the palm up. I hadn’t realized it was a gesture I made often until I saw Celia imitate it.
In a flash, I understood the whole purpose of my being invited along this evening. I could only wonder, in that horrible moment, if Robin had known.
I wanted to get up and walk out of the room and never see any of these people again, because I felt that Celia Shaw had been stealing from me. But in a contrary way, I also wanted to minimize the situation, because I was raised to avoid direct confrontations. Besides, what could I say? “You were copying me?” I hadn’t accused anyone of that since the third grade.
What could she reply? “Was not!”
“Just trying to get your flavor,” Celia explained, looking Sheepish with a capital S. She was playing someone feeling sheepish, rather than actually feeling that way.
“I don’t know how you’ve stood it,” I said to Robin, with more frankness than tact. Shoving back my chair and scooping up my purse, I excused myself to go to the Ladies‘.
The ladies’ room was supposed to look like a barn, God knows why. There were hay bales and corrals, and each “stall” was only shoulder high. Talk about carrying a theme too far. There was no
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