Matt paused the frame.
Lauren looked beautiful on camera, her dark eyes big and luminous. She had the type of bone structure that was slightly angular in person but flawless on film. She’d worn her hair back in a ponytail that afternoon and dressed in a plain black T-shirt and jeans. There was something steely and fragile about her at the same time. From a filmmaking perspective, he couldn’t have cast anyone better.
“Rory’s mom was a widow,” she said, a lock of hair falling free from her ponytail. She tucked it back behind her ear. “And he worried about taking care of her. Once the money became a reality, there was no question he would go into the NHL.”
Matt forwarded through his reel, moving to an interview with Rory’s former sports agent. Jason Cavendish, a slickly handsome LA native, looked barely older than his athlete clients. It had been an expensive shoot, flying to Hollywood and staying at the Standard. They couldn’t film at Jason’s high-profile office building, so Matt needed a sharp-looking hotel suite. The day of the scheduled shoot, Jason had an emergency meeting, and it was postponed to the tune of another six-hundred-dollar night. But it was worth it for this bombshell:
“The Kings didn’t make an offer once he was a free agent,” Jason said. “I don’t know where the press got that seven-figure rumor. But I sure as hell wasn’t about to correct them.”
Matt’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, was surprised to find Craig Mason.
He’d been wrestling with when and how to reach out to Craig, to send him the footage of Lauren. He’d decided to wait until he had more, but this call was an encouraging turn of events.
“Great to hear from you,” Matt said. “I’d been thinking of calling you myself. I interviewed Lauren Kincaid.”
That’s how these projects went sometimes. How many film-festival panels had he listened to where people talked about things falling apart, the film looking like it would never get made, and then all the pieces clicked into place. He could see the two of them sitting side by side at Sundance…
“Good for you,” Craig said. “But I just called to share some news.”
“News?”
“I heard something through the grapevine, and since I am rooting for you—you know that, right? Anyway, I want you to know there’s a feature film about Rory in the works.”
Matt felt a rushing whoosh as he lost his breath.
“Who’s making it? When’s it coming out?”
“I don’t know anything more about it.”
“Okay,” Matt said. “Well, I think this just shows I have a hot topic. It’s not a concern.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep an eye out for that. But in the meantime I’ll send you the Lauren Kincaid footage—”
“I’m afraid I have to pass,” said Craig. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, man,” Matt said calmly. He hung up.
And then he threw his phone against the wall.
Lauren pulled a photograph down from the wall of the restaurant and carried it to the front counter.
“Table three wants to buy this one,” she told Nora, glancing at the price sticker: $250. It was just a shot of a narrow house on the bay. Lauren knew the house; it was painted a pretty moss green but the photo was in black-and-white so it didn’t even have that going for it. She supposed summer visitors wanted to take any piece of Longport home with them.
“Great. I’ll wrap it up,” Nora said. “Hey, I wanted to ask you a few things. First, you’re coming to my Fourth of July party, right?”
“Of course.” Every Fourth, Nora hosted a huge barbecue at her own house on the bay. It usually started midafternoon and lasted until the sun began to set, at which time the guests would make their way over to the boardwalk to view the fireworks.
“Great. Bring your parents and your sister; the more the merrier. Also, would you be able to work nights in August?”
Lauren smiled. “You’re finally making the leap to dinner service?”
“I’m working on it. I realize I’ve been playing it too safe. The way these photographs are flying out of here—I should have thought of selling something higher ticket on the walls years ago. Makes me think I’ve been doing things the same way for too long. I just have to worry about staffing up midway through the season. Not the easiest task.”
“Well, I’m ready to take more shifts, so just let me know what you need.”
Nora, distracted, eyed the door. “Your friend is back.”
Lauren followed her gaze and turned to see Matt in the front of the crowded room, not standing in line but next to it.
“Henny told April that he interviewed you at her place yesterday.”
“Henny told April? What is this, whisper down the lane?” Lauren said.
“Well, Henny’s not speaking to me at the moment, so yes, I’m relying on secondhand information.”
“Oh no. Because of her signs?”
Nora nodded. “Yeah. A casualty of progress. I really didn’t think she’d take it so hard. It was barely any money in her pocket.”
“It’s probably not about the money. Have you tried talking to her? Do you want me to talk to her?”
Nora shook her head. “Go see what your visitor wants.”
Lauren threaded her way through a party of six leaving the restaurant. Matt spotted her and waved her over.
Yeah, I see you.
“I hope you’re only here to eat,” she said, “because I don’t have time to talk.”
“I’d love to eat,” he said, smiling. “But I don’t have time for that line. Can you bump me ahead of the crowd?”
“This isn’t Studio Fifty-Four. Seriously, I gotta work, Matt.”
He looked at the photographs on the wall. “She replaced Henny’s hand-painted signs with this crap?”
“You know about that?”
“Yeah. But I set her up on Etsy so she’s back in biz.”
Lauren looked at him in surprise. “That was nice of you.”
A woman stepped in front of Matt. “Miss, can you tell us how much longer? It’s been forty minutes. We’re on the list. Last name is Feld.”
Lauren looked around for the hostess, a college kid. She directed the woman to the side. “Please check with the hostess.” Turning back to Matt, she said. “I’m really busy.”
“Someone is making a feature film about Rory,” he said.
“I know. You are.”
“No, I’m making a documentary. The other project is a scripted movie. Someone is writing their version of the story.”
She felt the room tilt. “Who? Can they do that?”
“I don’t know who. It’s not listed on IMDb. A friend told me. And yes, they can do that. But Lauren, you know the real story. The truth. And I can help you get it out there. Don’t you want that?”
“I already did an interview. I gave you your hour! What do you want from me?”
“More,” he said.
The room, overcrowded, felt suddenly like it was closing in on her.
Beth hesitated outside of Stephanie’s bedroom door. She looked again at her watch, stalling. Eleven in the morning. Goddamn it, she hated being put in this position, having to treat her grown daughter—a mother herself—like a recalcitrant teenager.
She pushed open the door after one brisk knock.
“Rise and shine,” she said, walking in and drawing back the curtains. Stephanie groaned.
“What are you doing?”
“Your son is in the kitchen, waiting to go to the beach. And you’re going to take him.”
Stephanie buried her head deeper in her pile of pillows. Beth could smell the alcohol seeping from her pores. Furious, she grabbed the comforter and pulled it off the bed.
“Mom! Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me. But there is plenty wrong with you, and we’re going to deal with it, starting today. Right now. You’re drinking too much. You’re not spending enough time with your son. And you did a lousy thing to your sister the other night.”
Stephanie sat up. Beth had known that would get her attention.
“Oh, now I see what this is about. Once again, Lauren the angel has been wronged.”
“I invited Neil Hanes over to spend time with her. He was asking about her. And then you…”
“I what? She’s the one who freaked out and left.”
“And you didn’t waste any time moving in,” Beth said.
“Oh, please. As if it were ever going to happen with Lauren. She hasn’t dated in all of this time—that’s on her, not me. But you know what? If Neil Hanes is going to be the one, she can go for it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea now that you’ve slept with him.”
“I didn’t ‘sleep with him,’ Mother. We just hung out. The guy’s a talker. Frankly, he’s exhausting.”
Beth brightened. Was it true? Neil and Stephanie had just talked? She felt the universe was rewarding her for trying—and for pressing the issue with Stephanie. Emboldened, she said:
“I want you to take Ethan to dinner and a movie tonight. The only one you should be running around with is that little boy. I’ll give you the money for a night out, and I expect you to make yourself scarce.” She walked out of the room but turned around just long enough to add, “And get yourself dressed.”
Beth was already dialing Neil’s cell before she reached her own bedroom.