“Dad, phone for you.”
“Who is it?” Indifferent shrug of teenaged shoulders.
“Hello. Ron speaking.”
“Ron, Allan here. Listen man, you have to meet me Friday night. Seven p.m. sharp.”
“Sorry, Allan. Rita and I are taking the kids to the Lakers’ game.”
“Can’t take no for an answer. Get Gram to go in your place. You have to be there. Trust me on this one. It will be the most important night of your life.”
“Can’t do it Allan, and don’t exaggerate. It doesn’t become you.”
“I’m deadly serious, Ron. Be there. Here’s the address. Write it down. Gotta go buddy. More calls to make. And Ron, dress for this one.” The line went dead.
Great! The kids would be disappointed and Rita would be pissed. “This had better be good, Allan,” Ron muttered to the phone as he hung up. Gram, at least, would be pleased.
Ron arrived that Friday night cursing Allan under his breath. The restaurant had been hard to find, a small family-run business in an obscure part of town and he was mystified as to its choice. It certainly wasn’t one of the finer dining establishments that Allan insisted on or that he himself was used to.
Men and women chattered in Spanish while young children played hide-and-seek between the tables or followed the waitresses, imitating their moves. A group of young people at a corner table were having a heated but cheerful debate and helped to hide the youngsters when parents came looking for them.
The garish pink walls were plastered with old photographs, battered sombreros, faded posters, a few woven wall hangings, and one large vividly colored picture that caught his attention even though it was much too rustic for his tastes. The place had a certain cozy charm, he thought wryly, and the smells from the kitchen were mouth-watering. They would eat well, at least.
A youth directed him to the lonely table in the back corner next to the kitchen. Allan, Vicky Warren, and Ian Martin were already there as well as Jamie, who shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes in Allan’s direction, eloquently communicating that she too was in the dark. Shane Roberton came in right behind him.
Vicky, Ian, and Shane were fellow actors. He and Jamie had done a pilot with them for Allan—a quality television drama that proved to be short lived. They weren’t stars in the Hollywood sense of the word, but they were all steadily employed, with decent investments, no longer starving or doing commercials, and waiting tables a mere bad memory.
They greeted each other with the casual warmth of good friends. “Okay, Allan, give. What’s this all about?” Ron asked.
“Yeah, why’d you insist I delay my flight to London?” Ian asked. “This had better be good, Allan.”
“And why did I have to ditch my date?” Ron knew Jamie was annoyed although she kept her tone level.
*
Em took a deep breath. It's now or never. “I can answer that.”
They turned en masse at the sound, mouths gaping when they saw her. It was always like that and she still hadn’t become used to it. She didn’t think she ever would. The startled oh of their mouths, the widening of their eyes, the hands raised to … do what? Hit her? Hide from her? Embrace her?
“Miracle Madame!” Vicky slapped her hand over her mouth as if she had committed some crime simply by saying her name. Just as she had seen so many do.
“I’ve heard that’s what I’m called. Miracle Madame, Humph. Sounds like I should be running a brothel in the Old West.” She laughed lightly hoping her little joke would ease the tension. Not even a hint of a smile on any of their faces. They just stared. Damn.
She heard Ron suck in air. He had a sort of sickly look about him. Christ, is he that scared of me? No, that wasn’t it. She watched closely, felt a tingly ache in her heart. They had a connection, a link to each other, so strong that she thought she should be able to see it and wondered if he did. She berated herself for playing the fool, but the feelings were too powerful to be dismissed.
He must have sensed something because he looked at her quizzically; an eyebrow rose, and then, coward that she was, she turned back to the others.
“My God, you really are you and you’re here.” Ian, like so many others when they first met her, hardly daring to speak, and then blurting out the first inane thing that came into his head. No doubt she’d have done the same in his shoes.
“You are so beautiful and your dress is… It’s really….” Jamie blushed and fumbled for more words.
Em laughed. “The Spinda were impressed too, just not so favorably.” With those words they seemed to relax a little. “Let’s do this properly, shall we?” She shook hands with each, thanking them for coming on such short notice.
They sat and Raûl came to take drink orders. He had a Sol with a wedge of lime for her, well chilled, just the way she liked it. He bent for a hug and they chatted a moment in Spanish.
Drinks came, orders were given and conversation began. She asked about their families and careers. She knew about their spouses, about Gram, the names and ages of their children, what projects they were working on. But she asked anyway. It was another attempt to put them at ease, and to unlock the confining bonds of being Miracle Madame.
There was a pause in the conversation when Raûl came with a second round of drinks. Ian broke the ensuing silence. “May we ask about your work?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“But, there is so much you could tell us,” Shane said.
“How do you know where to go and what to do?” Jamie asked.
“Where did you learn to speak so many languages?” Vicky asked. “And how do you travel?”
Brittleness settled over her and she was far away, in a world she didn’t want to see, in a world she wanted to escape. She forgot where she was just then. All she could see was horror and fear and hunger and devastation. All she could hear was crying and sobbing and yelling and sighing.
“Stop.” Ron spoke quietly, but she heard and the others must have too, for silence settled around the table. She tried to smile at Ron, but didn’t quite succeed. He looked grim and happy at the same time. Happy that he’d done her a favor? Little did he know.
Allan jumped in with a quip about his current movie and, thankfully, the easy flow of conversation resumed.
When their plates were cleared away, they turned to her, upright in their chairs like good students, eager expressions on their faces, ready to pay rapt attention. Of course they were dying with curiosity. Em was surprised they lasted as well as they had through the meal.
“I would like you to consider making a movie for me. I have already discussed some of the details with Allan.”
Oh God! She’d done it. It was too late now. She couldn’t take the words back. Why? Why did she have this insane urge to make a movie? And, why with this group? They were good people, down to earth, not famous enough to have been warped by media attention. If they agreed to make her movie, they’d be forever hounded by paparazzi; everything in their lives would change.
More to the point, she’d control them. They’d be hers.
“Why a movie?” Ian asked and she had to scramble to find a reasonable answer.
“Movies are a powerful communication tool.”
“They can be. But why don’t you just do some interviews, make some speeches, tell people what you want them to know?” Vicky asked. “Wouldn’t that be a lot simpler?”
“Easier? Likely. More effective? Not necessarily. Besides, I’m not allowed to work that way.” Not allowed! Not allowed? That's what the message in the ring had said. Why the hell am I not allowed? You're allowed to put me in all sorts of danger, to scare the bejesus out of me, but I'm not allowed to talk to people. Man, if I ever get a chance to talk to you....
“Madame,” someone called softly and she was back with them, shaky and mad, but back.
“From what you said earlier, you don’t seem impressed with what Hollywood produces so why make the movie here?” Shane was not so overawed by her that he wouldn’t speak out. Refreshing.
“I’m a realist. I know the power of Hollywood, and how far-reaching something made here can be. I’m not unaware of my clout. Because of my involvement everyone will want to see this movie. It’s a way to spread my influence more widely than I do now.”
“But you do influence people,” Ian said. “My God, you’re changing the world.”
She shook her head, dismissing his protest. She would never believe that what she said and did carried that much weight. In spite of everything she had done, she still didn’t believe it was real.
“I don’t expect you to answer right away. And I will understand if you say no.”
“Of course we’ll do it.” They all spoke at once.
She fumed. How could they agree so readily? Didn’t they know what her movie would do to them? How could they just say yes like that without due consideration? Don’t be stupid, she wanted to yell. Think, damn it. Think. She wanted them to say no. She wanted a way out and now it was too late.
Fuck! I’m the one who needs to think. I’m the one who wants the control. Because someone controls me. I‘m the one who wants the fame. Because I’ve fallen into the trap. I want some of that Hollywood mystique. And Ron? How does he fit in all of this? Do I want him? Is it too late to get out of this mess? Maybe I can make them see reason, make them say no.
“You need to think about this. You must weigh the pros and cons.” Oh, yes, there will be cons. “Working with me will change your lives. Think of that. Consider carefully. Carefully! You will need to be prepared for a barrage of world-wide media attention.” Not to mention that I will have taken over your lives. Just as mine was taken over. Revenge! Oh, God! I’m wreaking revenge on these poor innocents.
“We’ll do it.” Ian spoke firmly.
She sighed inwardly. If that was the way they wanted to play it…. Well, they were adults. “Thank you.” Oh God, this was good. She’d get to see Ron again. As often as she wanted. “The media attention will start as soon as we leave.”
“We can handle it,” Jamie said.
And maybe she could do something for them, something to atone for her sins. “You’re agreeing to do me a huge favor. Is there something I can do for you?”
*
I watched as sparks flew between Em and Ron. I felt a heaviness in my chest, a hollow empty feeling in my stomach, such as I had never before experienced. I reached out to snatch her back, but I knew it was too late. I didn’t understand then what it was too late for. I didn’t understand then why I felt so … so bereft.
As for Ron. What I felt coming from him was beyond understanding. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He clenched his fists holding them rigidly at his sides, forcing himself to be still, feeling at once the light and sublime ecstasy of possibilities and the harsh dark reality of what could never be.
What possibilities? What could never be?
I’d seen him watching her on TV enthralled. I’d seen him moon over her like a lovelorn teen. He fantasized so many things, and laughed heartily at himself to hide his flashes of embarrassment but he hadn’t stopped.
At first he thought meeting her would be enough. “Madame, such an honor to meet you.” Courtly bow, light kiss to the back of her hand. Only it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.
His fantasies carried me with them, allowed me to see and feel things heretofore unknown. They always ended in the bedroom and I was there with them in those fantasies of his.
I guessed that is what love was; the way they thought about it on Earth. We had no words for love up here. It was an emotion beyond us. Even Drones, like my family, didn’t talk about love although I believe it existed. I think my parents loved each other and loved Elspeth and me.
Ron was last to shake her hand. Her grip was firm, her hand cool and dry. Her smile warmed him. He locked eyes with her in an agony of desire. He wanted to bury his hands in her mass of unruly curls, make wild passionate love to her. His response would have frightened him if he had had the capacity to examine it wholly and rationally.
Hell, it frightened me. And sucked me in. Sparks flew wildly about them—bright, colorful, happy sparks. I held my breath, clenched my fists, and lunged toward them. Mentor’s iron grip on my arm stopped me. I forced myself to relax. She let go then but didn’t take her eyes off me. I tried to look away.
“Watch!” Mentor ordered.
Em was falling for Ron and didn’t yet realize it. She was falling for him and I was falling….
“Watch!” Mentor said again.
Ron would have given anything, anything to know what my Little Soldier was thinking of him. Then he mentally kicked himself for being a complete ass. This was la madame des miracles, la señora de los milagros, the world’s savior, for Christ’s sake, and he was being a fucking idiot to think she might have any interest in him, any feelings for him. But, oh God, the dream was so sublime.
Dream on, you stupid ass. Mentor’s grip on my arm tightened.
Ron’s ability to read people was non- existent with Em and he missed his skill, afraid of what it might mean. He dodged away from the recurring voice nagging at him unmercifully that it meant she wasn’t human. Lord knew that question had been raised often enough in the last eight months.
Suddenly, he panicked. His lack of sense of her had to mean she wasn’t human. He watched closely, eyes narrowed, looking for clues, looking in vain for anything to help read her.
You idiot. As if I’d let you “read” her. As if I’d let you get that close.
He was puzzled by her hands. Unlike everything else about her, they were not perfect. Most of her fingernails were broken badly enough to have caused bleeding and those that weren’t broken, were filed unreasonably short. He searched for an explanation but the only thing he could come up with was manual labor and that hardly seemed to fit. He had no understanding of why such a seemingly trivial detail had taken on such significance.
I didn’t understand either. What was he on about?
I didn’t want Em to be a player in the media circus and lose her mystery. Let them talk about her, not to her. That’s why I agreed to let her do the movie. Actually, with me, the movie thing went way back to a school party. In my studies of Earth and humans I’d happened on Hollywood and was showing my friends some flicks. We laughed ourselves silly watching the action films. Futuristic stuff like The Terminator series especially tickled our funny bones. But, I explained to my friends, the power of Hollywood was astounding. Remember War of the Worlds? So, when Em broached the possibility of a movie her idea seemed like a good thing.
Wait a minute. Offering to do something for them? Now, what was she up to? I hadn’t sanctioned this. Wanted more time with Ron, that was clear. Damn her.
“Tsk, tsk,” Mentor said. She was actually grinning—devilishly.