Page 25 of A Spy is Born
I'm surprised by the question and take another sip of beer to gather my thoughts. I've answered this one a million times, but Sing lowered my defenses with his spicy stew and cold beer. "I felt sad for his family," I answer.
Sing nods. "You must have been worried about the future of the film."
"No movie is as important as a man's life."
"Meaning you knew it would go on."
"Oh, no." I shake my head. "But it wasn't my first concern. I felt bad that such a brilliant artist was dead.”
The way I said “ dead” sounded funny in my ears. Should I have used the euphemistic “passed”?
Sing just nods though. I glance down at the table and discover his phone is out, recording us again. That's fine; I knew this was an interview. I take a breath, and another sip of beer, and smile at him. "This was my first major role, and it's any actor’s dream to work with a director like Jack. I was heartbroken on a lot of levels."
"What about the rumors that have come out since his passing? That he took advantage of some of his stars."
I shake my head. "I don't know anything about that."
Sing leans even closer, lowering his voice. “You had dinner with him that night. It must have been shocking to hear of his passing.”
“Yes, very.” I nod my head and hold his gaze.I have nothing to hide. Everything is in the public record. These are not the droids you're searching for...
“And you were in a car accident that evening. Were you on your way home from his house when it happened?"
“Yes, close to my home, in Eagle Rock. Jack lived in the hills."
"I'm not familiar with Los Angeles."
"Well, if you ever come, you must allow me to introduce you to our street foods. The tacos are to die for."I should not have said die. Crap on toast.
"I would like that very much."
My phone chirps, and I glance down at it. It’s Sandra. I put up a finger to Sing, saying I’ll be just a minute, then answer it. "We're here to pick you up, where are you?" she asks, a note of panic in her voice.
"I'm not totally sure," I say with a laugh, looking around, not finding any street signs. "Where are we?" I ask Sing.
He holds his hand out for the phone, and I pass it over. He speaks with the driver, giving him directions, then hands the phone back. "They will be here in a few minutes."
As I slip the phone back into my purse, an old, hunched woman, weighted down by bags of merchandise, approaches our table. She holds out an arm draped with jewelry. I shake my head without glancing at it. But Sing pulls a strand off the woman's arm. "For you," he says, passing the woman some cash.
"Oh, I couldn't," I say.
He meets my eyes, and there is something there. Something new and different. "A gift from Temperance," he says.
My heart races, and I take a quick inhale as the woman moves onto the next table. My eyes fall onto the necklace Sing is holding out to me. It glitters in the light—it actually looks like real gold. I take it from him with a trembling hand. The chain holds a round locket with a dragon image inscribed onto it.
"Ah, and here is your car," Sing says, standing.
I swallow, take a breath, and put my face back on as I slip the chain over my neck. It falls against my chest, the weight of it so light compared to the reality of it.
Inside is something dangerous. A pill, a powder? I don't know. But something I must slip into a man's drink. As I stand, I notice my hands are still shaking. I grip my purse with both of them and smile at Sandra, who is standing next to the car.
"Enjoy the party this evening," Sing says, walking toward the car to see me off.
I smile at him. "Thank you, will you be attending?"
"No, but if you need anything while in the city, don't hesitate to call." Sing pulls out a card from his pocket and passes it to me.
We are standing at the car now, the door open before me. I glance down at the card. It has his name on it, “Vogue Reporter At Large” printed under it, followed by a number. "Thank you."
