Брайан Фриман - Alter Ego

Aimee collapsed. Tears leaked down her face.

She murmured again, louder now. “Save me.”

She shouted it. “Save me, Evan Grave.”

Evan Grave was the character name of the detective in the movie. It sounded strange to Serena’s ears to hear it that way. The movie was fiction, but she still expected to hear Aimee say it the way all the other women had.

Save me, Jonathan Stride.

Aimee emerged from the box, and the crew swarmed around the set like insects. They touched up her makeup. They fixed her hair and clothes. Someone handed her water, but she shook her head.

“Those women didn’t have water,” Aimee said.

Serena waved from the back of the set, and Aimee came over to her. The two of them stood in the shadows at the back of the warehouse, and frozen air from outside blew in from a crack under the metal door. Serena wore a coat, but Aimee wore only a dirty white T-shirt with a knot tied at the base and frayed red jeans. She could see the actress was bitterly cold, but Aimee didn’t seek any help.

“That was amazing,” Serena told her.

Aimee shrugged. “That was crap.”

“What? I thought you were great.”

“No, I was completely outside the character. I was me, not her. That’s the problem. As a human being, you just naturally block out that kind of torment. I don’t know how to let it all in. I can’t find my voice.”

Serena didn’t understand the actor’s craft or what Aimee was looking for in her performance. However, she could see the frustration in Aimee’s face, and she hesitated to intrude on her mind-set. “Look, I wanted to ask you a few more questions, but I can see it’s a bad time.”

“It won’t make any difference. I just don’t have it right now. What do you want to know?”

“I’m trying to find out more about a party at Dean Casperson’s house on Saturday night. Were you there?”

Aimee shook her head. “No, I wasn’t feeling well. I popped a couple vitamin C pills and spent the evening in a hot bath.”

“Did you hear any stories about the party?”

“What kind of stories?”

“Anything that people might not want to see in a newspaper.”

“Sorry, Serena. I wasn’t there.”

Serena noticed that Aimee had dodged her question. “I’m curious. How well do you know Dean Casperson?”

“Dean? We’re not in the same circles. Dean Casperson is an A-lister. He’s a household name. I don’t exactly jet off to Dean and Mo’s house for brunch.”

“You’ve worked with him before, though, right? I looked up your profile on IMDb. Your first role six years ago was in a Dean Casperson film.”

“Yes. That was a huge break for me. Dean picked me himself.”

“Did he help you get this part, too?” Serena asked.

“In fact, he did. Why are you asking about this?”

“Because you were right that Haley Adams was a spy,” Serena said. “She was spying on Dean. I was wondering if you had any idea what she might have been looking for.”

Aimee hesitated. “Honestly, these questions are making me uncomfortable.”

“Why is that?”

The actress looked over her shoulder to make sure that none of the crew was within earshot. She lowered her voice. “You have no idea how much power someone like Dean Casperson has. If he thought I was gossiping about him, he could ruin me.”

“This isn’t gossip. Haley Adams is missing.”

“I know, and I feel bad about that, but I’m sorry, Serena. I’m not saying anything about Dean.”

“Okay. What about Jungle Jack? I heard there was something going on between him and one of the interns.”

“Interns. Extras. Crew. Jack keeps plenty busy.”

“Did he get busy with Haley Adams?” Serena asked.

“He tried.”

“Did Haley tell you that?”

“She did. She also asked me how tight Jack was with Dean. I figured Jack was giving her a line. He was probably hinting that he could get her a role in the movie if she slept with him.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her to stay away from Jungle Jack,” Aimee said.

Before Serena could ask anything more, she heard a loud voice on the set. “Ms. Bowe, we’re ready for you.”

“I have to go,” Aimee told her. “Time for take two.”

Serena watched the actress walk away, and she noticed Aimee get in character as she neared the box. Her shoulders slumped. Her legs wobbled as if they would cave under her. Aimee crawled inside, and when she turned around to face the cameras, she was already a different person.

As the crew finalized the cameras and sound for the scene, Serena saw a triangle of light stream across the floor near her, and a blast of outside air roared through the rear of the warehouse. Someone slipped inside. A woman. Serena struggled to see through the shadows, but then she realized that the new visitor on the set was Lori Fulkerson. They’d never met, but Serena had seen her photo in the papers and seen her interviewed on television. Lori lingered near the door ten feet away as if leaving herself the option for a quick exit. They were nearly the same height, but Lori was heavier. Her curly hair crept from under a wool cap.

Before Serena could go over and introduce herself, take two began.

Serena watched Aimee in the box, but she also studied Lori Fulkerson out of the corner of her eye to see how the woman reacted. Lori’s expression never changed or showed any emotion. The woman’s eyes were lifeless. She kept her hands buried in her pockets. To Serena, Aimee’s performance was as gut-wrenching as it had been before, but it seemed to have no impact at all on Lori Fulkerson.

They did another take and then another before Aimee broke free again. She walked toward Serena, but as she did, she saw Lori Fulkerson hovering by the door. Aimee walked past Serena and up to Lori and hugged her. It was a mistake. Lori reacted stiffly, obviously uncomfortable. Serena also noticed the physical differences between them. Aimee was the small, slim, Hollywood version of the victim, whereas Lori was the reality.

“I’m very glad you came,” Aimee said.

“Well, my mother wouldn’t get off my back about it,” Lori replied.

“I really could use your help,” Aimee told her. “Did you see the last couple of takes? I’m not getting it.”

“No, you’re not,” Lori replied without any subtlety.

“What am I doing wrong? What am I missing?”

“Everything.”

Aimee didn’t react defensively, but she looked at a loss for words. She beckoned Serena over as if searching for another way to make a connection with Lori. “This is Serena Stride. She’s Lieutenant Stride’s wife.”

Lori’s eyes expressed no warmth or curiosity. “I suppose Stride told you about finding me last night?”

Serena nodded.

“He keeps rescuing me,” Lori said, but she didn’t make it sound like a good thing.

The silence that followed was awkward, and Serena thought that Lori looked ready to bolt. Aimee saw members of the crew eyeing them with sideways stares. The warehouse felt crowded. The actress took Lori’s hand and pulled her toward the exit door, and Serena followed behind them. They went out into the subzero cold beside the gray warehouse wall. They were no more than fifty yards from the water. The sky was crisp and blue, but the sun gave no warmth. No one else was outside. Aimee did a jittery frozen dance, and Serena slipped off her heavy coat and put it over her shoulders. Lori unwrapped a stick of gum and chewed it as she stared across the ice of the harbor.

“I know this is hard for you,” Aimee said, “and I appreciate your being here at all. Is there anything you can tell me?”

Lori shrugged. “Like what?”

“Anything about the emotional experience you went through. Or the physical experience. Something to help me understand. Something I can grab on to.”