Tall Shadows

Chapter 1

The tuxedoed man on stage made a show of struggling to open the gold envelope in his hands. It probably looked cute to the TV viewers but the professionals in the audience knew he was playing for a little more camera time. When the envelope opened, he smiled easily because it wasn’t his life about to change. And the award goes to…

I held my breath. Please say it. This time. Just this once, for the love of God, please say it.

Anthony DeMetri!

I exhaled. Shit.

I looked to my right. Adam’s smile was perfect for the cameras as he sat there applauding. My brother might be an asshole sometimes but he was also a talented actor, and thank God he held on to that when I needed it most. At times it threw me off because I couldn’t always tell if he were telling me the truth or not, and at the moment I was glad not to know because one way or the other, the truth was going to come out on its own anyway.

To Adam’s right, Mom scowled at the presenter like it was his fault her son was denied his third attempt in five years at a Best Actor award. Her reaction might’ve been comical if I didn’t know I’d have to deal with her wrath too.

I laid my hand on Adam’s shoulder. You okay?

He turned that same plastic smiling face on me and shrugged. Next time. I’d have breathed easier if his eyes didn’t look as vacant as a mannequin’s.

Across the way, Mom’s knuckles were white around her clutch purse. The designer wasn’t going to be happy about the missing hand-sewn beads being slowly ripped out by my mother’s manicured fingernails. As I mentally ticked off the cost of repairs, I tapped Adam’s arm and pointed to Mom. I heard him chuckle and lean forward, kissing her on the cheek.

The initial look she gave him scared me. Her expression said at that moment she could easily murder someone. But then she realized who’d distracted her, and her smile went as bright as spring sunshine. Stealing a peek at the monitors, I saw that the camera caught it when they panned to the losers. Thank God for small favors with good timing.

I wanted to be relieved but I couldn’t. Her short term memory was going to shit but her grudges had staying power. No doubt I’d be hearing about how she’d never watch another one of that asshole’s movies again as long as she lived. Never mind that DeMetri was eighteen and this was his first feature film. How dare he win the award over her precious boy?

The awards show morphed to a commercial. I’d missed the whole acceptance speech in favor of damage control assessment. Story of my life.

* * *

To attend an awards show after-party as a non-actor was quite an experience. Lucky for me I enjoyed people-watching--or at least, I’d learned to enjoy it--and over the last fifteen years I’d also learned how not to fangirl in public. Hell, I didn’t even whip out my camera for celebri-selfies anymore. I’d met just about everyone who was anyone already. Some were nice, some were less than nice, just like in the rest of the world.

I was there to keep an eye on Adam but by extension I had to watch over Mom too. Sometimes she forgot she was talking to a producer who could break Adam’s career like a dry twig, and she’d yell about why he didn’t come up with better roles for her baby boy. I was paid to be Adam’s manager but I somehow ended up being our mother’s manager too. There were days I wasn’t sure which of us was better at playing their roles.

A man in a tux walked by, carrying a tray of something that looked like diced strawberries on a tiny white cake. I raised my hand, eager for some sugar, but he blew past me as if I were nobody. I flipped the bird at his departing back and turned to the bar. If I couldn’t eat my sweetness, I’d drink it instead.

Holly Wallace, as I live and breathe. Tommy Rollins floated up to me. I knew without looking that it was him because his cologne got to me first. His arm snaked around my back which, thanks to the designer dress, was bare to just above the crack of my ass. I was probably lucky he didn’t slide his hand down the back of my dress instead. Either that or the producer, up-and-coming in multiple ways, had had enough to drink that he tried and missed. Sorry about Adam, he said, his words sloshing in my ear. Fourth time’ll be the charm.

I gritted my teeth. Maybe.

I haven’t worked with him in a while. What’s he doing next?

He’s got a great part coming up. I wish I could’ve asked the bartender for a magic button that would make Tommy disappear. Instead I asked for a dirty martini, since Tommy’s presence had caused my mood and my tastes to sour.

Yeah? With who?

I faced Tommy, smile bright, mask in place. I’m sworn to secrecy. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.

Tommy inched closer. I was practically swimming in his Polo. If I’m going to die, at least give me one more chance with you. Then I can die a happy man.

My smile never wavered, even as I cursed the fact that some mistakes never died. Sorry. It’s privileged information, and you don’t have those privileges. I took the martini and turned in the other direction. The other good thing about being Adam’s manager was that for the last five years, while his star was rising, I could stop worrying about who I was rude to. Ever since that one hit movie and a mega magazine cover, studios wanted him, and to get to him they had to go through me. On the other hand, if this dry streak in the awards game kept up, I might end up back in Tommy’s bed before the year was out.

I found Mom in the gazebo a stone’s throw from the hotel pool. Even in the dark I could see her scowl. I’d have handed her the martini but dammit, I wanted this one. Hell, I needed it. She raised narrow eyes to me, then to the martini. Is that mine?

I pulled the glass away from her. You can’t have this with your meds, Ma. What’re you doing in here? Everybody’s over by the pool, having fun.

She sniffed. I don’t want to be out there. I’m angry. He lost again.

He didn’t lose. Someone else won.

And that means he lost. He should’ve won. He was good enough. He worked hard for that role. They should’ve given him that statue. She turned her laser stare on the crowd outside the pool or sitting at tables in the picnic area. Look at them. They got statues and they’re not half as good as my Adam. Then her stare turned on me. How come you’re not mad? He’s your brother. You’re his manager. You should be mad for him.

Mom, I said, then realized I had a martini in my hand. Tranquilizer, ahoy. I took a good sip, feeling relief fill me with the vapor of the top-shelf vermouth. Tony did a good job too. They don’t give participation awards for movies like they did in Little League.

Her fist pounded on the bench beside her. I startled, remembering how that fist could feel. I was glad I was three steps away. "He shouldn’t get a participation award, dammit! He was the best actor. He should have one of those gold statues over there. She got up from the bench. I’m going to get him one."

You’re what? I put the martini down to get her sitting again. It brought me back in close proximity to her tight little fists and far from my drink. Sit down. You can’t do that. That’s not his award.

Well, it should be, she said before sneering, that little shit. He’s not--

Ma, let it go. Next year. He’ll get it next year. ‘Cold Fusion’ releases in November and you know how good that was. Next year. I backed away, sitting on the bench opposite her but closer to the exit. Not that when she got up a good head of steam, she wouldn’t hurdle the railings. If I let her have the martini, there was no telling what she was capable of. It could either calm her down or add fuel to the fire.

I don’t want to wait ‘til next year, she snarled at her shoes. Better them than me. He shouldn’t--

Her rant was broken up by excited shouts from the crowd. I got up and scanned the group, not seeing what everyone else was seeing. I held a hand out to Mom. Stay here.

What is it?

I stepped into the crowd, still not sure--

Up on the fourth floor, a figure stood on the wrong side of the balcony, holding onto the railing with one hand, waving the other in circles in the air. Yee haa! Yippee kay-yay, motherfuckers!

Oh shit.

I stepped out of my heels and ran through the crowd, pushing people aside to get closer to my brother, the latter-day cowboy. Adam! I yelled, though given the roar of the crowd around me, not to mention he was more than forty feet above me, I doubted he could hear anything but the voices in his head. Adam, get back in that room this instant! I’ll be right up.

He laughed a wicked cackle that sent chills up my spine. Holly? Is that you? C’mon up here! The view’s great!

I’m on my way! Just get in the room first and then we’ll talk. I heard the voices behind me. A few words filtered in like nuts and drugs. I also heard a shitload of cell phone cameras clicking. No doubt at least half were taking video. A TMZ nightmare in the making. There was no damage control to something like this, but first things first because the building was set back thirty feet from the pool. The only way for my dumbass little brother to not end up a bloody pancake was if he could fly like Superman. He’d tried that once before off the garage roof and it didn’t go so well. At least then he was eight and he had something of an excuse: he was young and stupid. Sadly, at thirty-six he still had his stupid moments.

Climb up here, Hol! Seriously, I can see the Hollywood sign from here. He let go of the railing with his right hand to point to the Hills. He spun and grabbed the railing with his left, swinging like a chimp and laughing maniacally.

Oh fuck me, I muttered, my stomach buckling as I turned to look around. If I ran into the hotel to get him from the room, he could jump and I wouldn’t be here to catch him. Not that I could, though God knew I’d caught his bullshit more than enough times in the past. I grabbed the nearest waiter. Tell the manager to call 911.

I think he already did, the kid said. Sure enough, a moment later I heard sirens.

Tommy walked up behind me, his hand on my shoulder. You need anything?

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go the hell away. Or to tell him to go get me my martini. I’d have to consider it a reward for later. Can you get up to the room? Four-fifteen. Maybe grab him and get him back in? Break the door down if you have to.

On it, Tommy said and took off at a run. I watched him go. Well, shit. I might end up having to sleep with him again after all, when this was said and done.

I looked back up at Adam. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. I had to wonder what he’d done to get to this. Booze? Drugs? I’d seen him do his share of both but he’d been clean for a full year. He had his coin and everything. I knew losing the award could create a risky situation, but I didn’t see this coming.

Right; who was I lying to? Of course I saw this coming. Just maybe not to this degree. My fault. I should’ve kept an eye on him. I should’ve stayed close. I shouldn’t have let the sonofabitch out of my sight. Dammit, this was all my fault. I looked back to the gazebo, to mom. I could practically hear her disapproval over the din of the crowd.

Half a dozen cops flushed into the party, pushing people aside. Ma’am, if you could step back--

That’s my brother, I said, pointing to Party Boy on the balcony.

We’ll get him, the cop said, still pushing me. Just--

I pushed back. That got his attention. His hand went to his sidearm like it was a reflex akin to slapping away a mosquito. No, you don’t understand. He’s not okay. He needs me. And I hated him for it.

The cop met my eyes. I could feel him assessing me, checking to see if I might be impaired too. I must’ve come out clean because he said, Do you think anything you say can help us get him down?

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him, Let him jump, dammit. I’ve had enough of this crap. Let him fall. I’ll clean it up later, like I always do. Instead I said, I can try. Because like it or not, that was my reflex reaction.

The cop steered me a few steps back as the fire department brought in an oversized inflatable mattress. I could’ve laughed. That was the one thing this party didn’t have: a bounce castle. I’d have made a mental note to remember for next time if I wasn’t sure there were hundreds of cell phone cameras behind me, more than ready to help me record every angle of the memory.

Adam laughed. Cackled was more like it. Whee! Check it out, Holly! I’m gonna bounce! C’mon up here and bounce with me! It’s like when we were kids! You remember that? That time they threw the pool party and you got caught with--

"Shut up!" I screamed over the rest of his story. He laughed and swung out from the railing again, waving to the crowd.

The cop put his hand on my arm. He’ll be fine.

I know he will, I said. The cop looked at me. I pointed to the balcony. He’s only on the fourth floor. You’re not guaranteed to die from a fall if it’s below the seventh floor.

The cop looked at me like he wasn’t sure how I knew that. He must’ve decided he didn’t need to know because he pushed me behind him as the oversized air mattress grew to look like a big, dirty marshmallow. Stay back.

Someone on a bullhorn called out, Mr. Wallace, give us a minute. The cushion isn’t ready yet. Or you could save us the trouble and just go back into the--

A chant started among the crowd behind me. Jump! Jump! Jump! It built in volume. My hands fisted at my sides. No doubt somewhere back there, my mother came out of the gazebo swinging.

Whee! With one last whoop, Adam belly-flopped into the half-filled inflatable.

Chapter 2

Meet us at the hospital, I yelled out the back of the ambulance before the doors shut between us. The last I saw of Mom, she was standing on the sidewalk next to Tommy, looking as scared as I’d ever seen her. As bad as I felt for leaving her behind, there wasn’t room for her in the ambulance. I was certainly going to owe him for this but I could only deal with one crisis at a time.

Hol? Adam’s hand landed on my arm. His face was kind of a mess, with blood smeared across his mouth and cheek and red blotches here and there, but his eyes were smiling, maybe a little on the manic side. How do I look?

I exhaled. Same old Adam. Like the Joker.

Did he get an Oscar from that role? I can’t remember.

Shut up. It’s just a statue.

He shook his head, eyes closed. This is the third time. Five years, three nominations, and nothing to show for it.

So you’ll try again next year.

His eyes flashed open, that deep brown looking into me. You saw what I went through for this role. What more do I have to do? Die? He turned away, facing the wall of equipment in the moving ambulance.

Is that what you were trying to do? My gut chilled. I couldn’t even say it wasn’t what I’d do in his shoes. I’d been passed over for nearly everything in my life but I hadn’t jumped off any balconies. Throw myself under buses once or twice, yes, but that was mostly Mom’s doing. Even suicide would have been redundant.

What else do I have?

Are you kidding me? You have an amazing career. You have hundreds of thousands of fans. You have agents who’d give their left arm to work with you. You have Kelsie.

He shook his head. That’s over. I was going to have you put out the press release after the awards. We don’t want the same things.

Thank God. I patted his shoulder. It’ll be fine. He glared at me. Okay, fine, it’s not a match made in Heaven. Whatever. You said she was great in bed. So what if it’s not love. Find someone else. You can have anyone you want. And meanwhile you have Mom and me to support you.

Isn’t it the other way around?

Injured or not, that evil glint in his eye kicked my blood pressure into second gear. That’s not fair, I said, pointing at him. You chose this.

And you didn’t?

I rolled my eyes. Fine. Whatever. My life sucks sometimes too, and you don’t see me jumping off the hotel roof. You did that. So what do you want to do about it now?

His eyes welled. I need help, Holly. This time I think I really need some help. I don’t know how to handle this anymore. I can’t do it. He laid his hand on mine and squeezed.

I squeezed back. Okay. We’ll get help.

* * *

I pulled the curtain around Adam’s bed in the Emergency Department. He was sleeping like a stone thanks to a shitload of meds that I prayed wouldn’t interfere with whatever he’d already put into his system.

On the one hand, he was alive. There was something to be said for that. On the other hand, he had a broken nose and a chipped tooth. Please God, if You love me, let there be a cosmetic surgeon on call at this hour, or my little brother might never be the Hottest Man Alive again. Sure those magazines sounded silly to everyone else, but they were money in the bank for him once already. If he kept this crazy shit up, he was going to need all the good free press he could get.

Mom ran at me from down the hall. How is he? How is my baby?

He’s okay. He’s resting. Let him sleep. I tried to steer her away but she dug in her heels like a