Finn jerked a thumb at Tanya. “And Annie Oakley here just offers to shoot you?”
“No, she’s offered me nothing which inclines me to help her over all the others,” Stan said.
“I don’t want your help. I just want a chance,” Tanya spat out the words.
“And taking out Grace Kelly is going to help you how?” Finn asked.
“When the sun’s up you can’t see the stars. Why look for anything new when she’s there?”
“Tanya, it’s over. You’ve got to let him go,” Finn said.
“No, sooner or later the press will get a look at her, and then it’ll be over.”
“What are you going to do with me?” Finn asked.
“Keep you too. And I think when I tell your dad what went on between us he’ll want to keep me happy and quiet.”
There was a massive throbbing behind Finn’s eyes. A headache made up of equal parts rage and hurt. He fists clenched, but before he could react Stan tsked. “No, no, my dear. Crude threats are not the way to go. Now it’s time for you to ask for something. Let Bradley call his father, and negotiate a speaking role for you.”
Finn watched the calculation in her pale eyes. She then tucked the pistol back into her purse and gave a nod. Finn released the pent-up breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
There was a reason Stan had survived in Hollywood for fifty years, Finn thought.
Finn didn’t bother to take Stan home. He just drove the make-up man straight to Kelley’s house.
“Is there a reason you’ve brought me here?”
“It’s your home, isn’t it?” Finn countered.
“Home is where the heart is,” Stan said lightly, but there was a shadow in the back of his eyes.
“Then that would be here. I figured out about Mexico. You married her, didn’t you?”
The net of wrinkles around Stan’s blue eyes deepened as he smiled. “You’re a danger, young Bradley. Well, let’s go in to her.” Stan climbed out of the van.
They went around to the back where Stan unlocked the kitchen door. “Grace, my dear,” he called.
They heard her steps overhead. Stan led them into the foyer. Kelly came running down the grand curved staircase and into Stan’s arms. Finn sidestepped his way through an archway and into the living room. A few minutes passed and then they joined him. They were holding hands. It was really sweet.
“Would you like something to drink, Bradley?” Stan asked. “Would you get him something, dear, while I get my kit?”
Stan took a step only to be caught by Kelly. “Stan, wait. I’ve been thinking a lot during the past two days.”
Stan started shaking his head. “No, Grace. This is a beautiful movie, don’t. . . .”
She put a hand over his mouth. “I’m tired, Stan. My back hurts. I’m hungry all the time, and I have to exercise twice as long now to stay the same size. I’m not twenty-three. You just let the mirror give me back that picture.” Stan stood silent, just staring at his wife. A wave of insecurity passed across her face. “You can’t love me like this?” She touched a wrinkled cheek.
Stan grabbed her into a tight embrace. His voice was thick as he murmured against her hair. “No, my love. I just want you to be sure before you give it all up.”
Kelly wasn’t trying to hide her tears. She kissed him hard. “But I’ll finally have you. For whatever time remains to us.”
The emotions—love, regret, joy—were like electric currents in the room. It was overwhelming, and Finn had to get out of that room. He placed each hoof with elaborate care. They still rang hollowly on the wood floor of the foyer, but neither Stan nor Grace noticed.
Amazingly, the movie continued. Kelly offered to split the cost of the reshoot with the studio. Benton recast, and the production moved to England. The tabloids made much of Kelly and Stan’s love story. SHE GAVE UP BEAUTY FOR TRUE LOVE! Stan hired bodyguards. And Finn started back to school.
One evening the phone rang.
“Hello,” Finn said around a mouthful of Chef Boyardi ravioli.
“Hi, Bradley.” It was Tanya.
Finn swallowed, and felt the inadequately chewed food hit his stomach like a lead ball. “Hi.”
“I was wondering if I could take up the offer of a native guide to Santa Monica?”
“Last time we met you aimed a gun at me, and the time before that you tried to trick me into a porno movie.”
“So? It’s not like it was personal.”
“And that’s why I think Santa Monica is a bad idea.”
“Coward.” He could hear the laughter in her voice.
“Tanya, would you fuck a pony?”
“No. But a centaur might tempt me.”