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Authors: Tom Piccirilli
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eggs thrown against a wall. He saw himself at the premiere to Killing Time , standing on a red carpet, wearing a tux and smiling and waving to screaming fans. Except they weren’t fans at all, they were just people in pain who couldn’t stop shrieking. And it wasn’t a red carpet at all, it was white and growing more and more stained with lapping blood. Grey kept grinning and waving.
21
With only six hours sleep in three days, having covered 2700 miles, Grey crawled through the mid-day traffic of the Holland Tunnel, crossed into Manhattan and made his way to the Village. He parked on the street half a block down from STARMAKERS INC.
The New York office looked very much like the L.A. one, stationed between a liquor store and a vintage clothing shop. The same kind of “For Lease” sticker was glued to the glass. Grey stuck his nose up to the window and saw a figure go by and a light snap off.
The door was locked. Grey knocked and the figure in the shadows ignored him. He banged harder and the figure gestured for him to leave.
Grey took the shammy-wrapped hammer out of his jacket pocket and smashed the glass in.
Turned out not to be John Raymond but a girl of about twenty-two who was cleaning out a desk. She looked so much like Ellie that his stomach dropped and he took two quick steps toward her, arms wide as if going in for a hug. He realized his mistake just in time and stopped short, his heels squeaking on the dirty tile floor.
She backed off into a corner and spoke quietly, calmly, like she was talking to an escaped mental patient. “Okay, okay, I suppose I should have opened the door. But now you’re here, so, right...how may I help you?”
He hit the light switch on the wall. Now that he could see her clearly she didn’t look much like Ellie at all. Her face was rounder, eyes bright with a swirl of fear and maybe even droll mischief in them. There was a small space between her front teeth that gave her a little girl appearance. Her hair was a dirtier blonde, longer and more curly. How could he have mistaken her for Ellie?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you were someone else. I’m looking for John Raymond.”
“You thought I looked like that fat bastard?”
“No, I—”
“Let me guess, you’re another satisfied client, yeah?”
“No, not exactly, I just—”
“Well, everyone’s looking for him. The landlord, the folks he reps, his grandmother in Poughkeepsie. She’s eighty-five and calls every...fuckin’...day. These old ladies, they get something set in their heads and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing that can get it out again. He took a powder almost three months ago and he hasn’t paid his bills or his employees, of which I am the last, since. I’m Lace.” She squared her shoulders and put her fists on her hips. “And no, I don’t have any residual checks for you. And I don’t know where your head shots are. And I can’t send you out for auditions. And I haven’t heard back from any casting agents about your screen test. And you can’t have anything in the office because I’m taking it all to sell before I get kicked out of my apartment. Are we square on all that?”
“Yeah,” Grey said.
“Good. This is good, I’m glad you’re being reasonable.”
If Raymond had been gone all this time, with no one in L.A. or New York knowing where he was, then there could only be one of two explanations. He was either dead or in hiding. And that meant Ellie was dead or in hiding with him.
Grey shook his head, his breathing hitching in his chest. A cold sweat broke on his forehead.
He put a hand out to the desk and held himself up.
“Are you all right?” Lace asked.
“Yeah.”
What would Pax do? Pax would have a plan. Pax wouldn’t be chasing his own tail. Pax would do something more than smash windows. Grey imagined him here now, beside him, tall and powerful and in command,
21
With only six hours sleep in three days, having covered 2700 miles, Grey crawled through the mid-day traffic of the Holland Tunnel, crossed into Manhattan and made his way to the Village. He parked on the street half a block down from STARMAKERS INC.
The New York office looked very much like the L.A. one, stationed between a liquor store and a vintage clothing shop. The same kind of “For Lease” sticker was glued to the glass. Grey stuck his nose up to the window and saw a figure go by and a light snap off.
The door was locked. Grey knocked and the figure in the shadows ignored him. He banged harder and the figure gestured for him to leave.
Grey took the shammy-wrapped hammer out of his jacket pocket and smashed the glass in.
Turned out not to be John Raymond but a girl of about twenty-two who was cleaning out a desk. She looked so much like Ellie that his stomach dropped and he took two quick steps toward her, arms wide as if going in for a hug. He realized his mistake just in time and stopped short, his heels squeaking on the dirty tile floor.
She backed off into a corner and spoke quietly, calmly, like she was talking to an escaped mental patient. “Okay, okay, I suppose I should have opened the door. But now you’re here, so, right...how may I help you?”
He hit the light switch on the wall. Now that he could see her clearly she didn’t look much like Ellie at all. Her face was rounder, eyes bright with a swirl of fear and maybe even droll mischief in them. There was a small space between her front teeth that gave her a little girl appearance. Her hair was a dirtier blonde, longer and more curly. How could he have mistaken her for Ellie?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you were someone else. I’m looking for John Raymond.”
“You thought I looked like that fat bastard?”
“No, I—”
“Let me guess, you’re another satisfied client, yeah?”
“No, not exactly, I just—”
“Well, everyone’s looking for him. The landlord, the folks he reps, his grandmother in Poughkeepsie. She’s eighty-five and calls every...fuckin’...day. These old ladies, they get something set in their heads and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing that can get it out again. He took a powder almost three months ago and he hasn’t paid his bills or his employees, of which I am the last, since. I’m Lace.” She squared her shoulders and put her fists on her hips. “And no, I don’t have any residual checks for you. And I don’t know where your head shots are. And I can’t send you out for auditions. And I haven’t heard back from any casting agents about your screen test. And you can’t have anything in the office because I’m taking it all to sell before I get kicked out of my apartment. Are we square on all that?”
“Yeah,” Grey said.
“Good. This is good, I’m glad you’re being reasonable.”
If Raymond had been gone all this time, with no one in L.A. or New York knowing where he was, then there could only be one of two explanations. He was either dead or in hiding. And that meant Ellie was dead or in hiding with him.
Grey shook his head, his breathing hitching in his chest. A cold sweat broke on his forehead.
He put a hand out to the desk and held himself up.
“Are you all right?” Lace asked.
“Yeah.”
What would Pax do? Pax would have a plan. Pax wouldn’t be chasing his own tail. Pax would do something more than smash windows. Grey imagined him here now, beside him, tall and powerful and in command,
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