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Sarah stands and claps her hands together in what I immediately interpret as false enthusiasm. “It is not right to stay cooped up inside on a day like this, even if it is to study the art of acting. I say we all take a trip to the land of the mouse.”
Chapter 16
I have never seen Lizzie so alive and Cory so defeated.
He hides it when his daughter is around, not that she knows him as anything more than my Hollywood friend who made this all possible. And not that Lizzie is paying attention to any of us. She’s too busy interacting with every character in costume she comes across and eating more snacks than she usually enjoys in a month.
We’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, and now we’re finally here. But the air isn’t as light as a trip to the greatest place on Earth should be. And the more the adults talk, the heavier I feel.
It starts with me revealing what I saw last night.
After Lizzie asks for some money to buy a cinnamon churro and then runs off to wait in line, I level my gaze at Cory. “I saw the message from Jeb Eli. He said that he owned you. Why would he say that? And don’t even think about lying to me, Cory.”
Sarah’s eyes go wide at this. She looks between me and Cory, stopping on him like she’s just seen him pull the skin off his own head, revealing that he was a space lizard this whole time. I’m expecting her to sidle up next to me and cling to my arm as we recoil from him in unison. Instead, she asks, “He texted you again? What an absolute trou de cul.”
Both the voice in my head and my real mouth produce the single word: “What?”
“The man is an asshole,” Sarah says, but all her optimistic rigidity has fallen away in an instant. The magical veneer disintegrates, revealing the bags under her perfect eyes. “You see that over there?” Sarah asks, pointing in the distance. “That’s New Orleans Square. There’s a hidden bar, oh, how do you call it? A speakeasy, hidden away. You two need to have the kind of talk that cannot happen without drinks in your hands. Trust me, I know these things. I am French.” She waves her hand, gesturing for us to go. “I will stay with Lizzie and meet you back here in an hour.”
“A bar in Disneyland? Are you sure?”
Sarah fishes around in her handbag. “It is a very exclusive place. Here. My membership card.” The gold card contains the number 33 written in big swirling letters on the front. “Meet back here in an hour, yes?”
With a glance at Lizzie and then back at Sarah, I say, “You watch her with your life.”
“Without any doubt.” Then she turns to Cory. “You tell her everything.”
“Even your side of the story?”
“Every detail,” she answers with the sort of heaviness I’ve never seen her portray on camera or off.
Fifteen minutes later, Cory and I are sitting in the ritziest little restaurant I’ve ever seen. There’s tons of memorabilia on the wall, the seating is plush, and I have a gin and tonic fizzing in my hand.
After a long swig at his neat whiskey, Cory lets out an exhausted sigh. “So you saw that message and thought I was all buddy-buddy with Jeb Eli? And your next logical leap was that I must be some sexual monster like him?”
He’s speaking in a low voice so that the others around us can’t hear, but even quiet, his words hit with the force of bullets. All functions in my brain come to a halt. All except my heart, which thrums along at a breakneck pace. I can’t make sense of any of this.
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
Another sigh.
“This started a long time ago, but the gist of it is that I’m not one of Jeb’s cronies. In fact, I’m the opposite. Thanks to Jeb, I’m blacklisted from Hollywood and pouring all my money into this movie myself. Those producers that walked out yesterday were my last hope. So if I’ve seemed stressed it’s because if this movie flops, that’s it. I’m broke.”
If I choose to believe what he’s saying, that means he absolutely needs this movie to succeed. Like an absolute madman, he’s placing all his eggs in my basket.
He then interrupts my wild desperation at this realization with a completely off-topic question. “Have you ever heard of an elevator pitch?”
“A what?”
“An elevator pitch is like a ten-second explanation of a movie to get the idea across to producers and studios. Aliens had the shortest, possibly strongest, elevator pitch ever: It’s like Jaws in space. Well, if my life as a director were an elevator pitch, it would be, It’s like Jaws in Hollywood. Only in this story, the shark is Jeb. Remember when I said that I had to leave school because my family went into witness protection?”
“Your dad was an accountant for some criminal ring, right?”
“Yeah. You can think of them like the mafia. Only these guys aren’t your stereotypical Italians dumping bodies in the ocean and dealing drugs. Actually, I’m not sure. They may be doing that too, but that would actually be the lesser of their crimes.” He leans in real close. His voice that was a whisper before is now barely more than moving lips. “It’s why my father finally grew a conscience big enough to see over the mountains of money he was making.” He pauses again, but this one is pained, not cautious. “Jeb doesn’t stop at women, Augusta,” he says, using my full name to really lay on the seriousness of what he’s revealing. “They sell kids. Sell them and use them, and god knows what they do to them once they get older.”
Unbidden, Lizzie’s face pops up in my head. I imagine her being stolen away from me, and it’s enough for me to practically leap out of the seat and find her this instant. Cory notices my distress.
“She’s safe with Sarah. No one would try anything in this park anyway. Do you know how many cameras they have here?”
