Page 9 of One Life to Loathe

I WAS A PEOPLE PERSON IN GENERAL, BUToccasionally, I became introverted. If there were too many people around, then sometimes I needed to retreat to take a breath. That wasn’t an option tonight, and the bar was bursting at the seams with people I only recognized from various gossip tidbits and trade magazine write-ups.

The director was Miles Graham. He was thirty-two years old, with floppy brown hair, and a pair of the most adorable puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen. When he smiled, he lit up the entire room. His only downside as far as I could tell was that he brayed like a donkey when he laughed. He’d arranged for the dinner, and he made sure there were ten different entrees to choose from. Once everybody was done eating, the drinking started. He wanted us to engage in a genuine get-to-know-you extravaganza.

That’s how I ended up talking to Sylvia Day, the Susan Lucci of the group. Nobody else gave her that name mind you. That’show she introduced herself. She’d been a staple in daytime television for forty years—although nobody knew exactly how old she was because her age was a closely-guarded secret—and this was her first prime time role since the eighties. She was excited, but determined to pretend she wasn’t. Like this new role wasn’t out of the norm for her.

“Should I start calling you Mother?” I teased her as we waited for the bartender, a cute guy named Levi, to finish our drinks.

Sylvia looked taken aback. “Why would you possibly do that?”

“Because you’re playing my mother on the show,” I replied without hesitation. To me, that seemed obvious.

Sylvia made a scoffing noise. “Are you serious? I thought you were one of the other coven members. They can’t have cast you to play my daughter. I would’ve had to have been twelve when I had you.”

I did the math in my head. If what Sylvia was saying was correct, that would’ve put her at forty-two. Now, even with some of the best work I’d ever seen, she still looked as if she was in her sixties. My guess was she was actually in her seventies … or maybe even eighties. Despite that, I held it together.

“You know how it is,” I said. “They always cast younger women in older roles, but they don’t do the same with men. It’s so sexist.”

Sylvia sipped her drink, considered it a second, then nodded. “That’s exactly what happened.”

I caught Levi’s grin from behind her back and had to avert my eyes in case I burst out laughing. He was clearly amused. He wisely didn’t say anything, though.

“Oh, look, it’s the witches,” a bottle blonde announced as she joined us at the bar. I knew who she was without having to search my memory. Her name was Bethany Daniel. She was in her forties but had done so much Botox she looked thirty. Herface didn’t move a single smidge when she smiled … or frowned … or screamed. It was frozen in time. She was notorious because she’d been on one of the biggest nighttime soaps twenty years before, had married a rock band drummer, and seemingly spent more time taking over the gossip mags than television screens now. Some people whispered that she had a drug problem. Other than the inordinate amount of booze I’d seen her throwing back tonight, she seemed pretty clear on what was happening. I was never one to believe the gossip. I had to see it with my own eyes. Even then, since it was none of my business, I didn’t often get involved.

“And you’re the head vampire,” I said to her with a grin.

“Yes, I’m supposed to be ageless.” Bethany tossed her hair over her shoulder in aDynastysort of way. “I think it’s the perfect role.”

“You’re playing Leo’s mother, correct?”

Bethany’s smile slipped. “Yes, although personally I don’t think I look old enough to play his mother. I mean … come on. I would’ve had to have still been in diapers.”

I glanced at Levi again and found him grinning like a fool.

“Since vampires are ageless, though, it doesn’t matter,” she continued. “Although, I do have a question.” She leaned her elbows on the counter and stared directly into my eyes. Now, up close and personal, I could see why someone might believe she was on drugs. Her pupils were definitely bigger than I’d ever seen.

“What’s your question?” I asked, forcing myself not to take a step back despite her proximity. I wasn’t a big fan of close talkers. I liked my personal space.

“Well, it says Ed Porter is the ‘patriarch.’” She used air quotes. “What exactly is he the patriarch of? Is it the vampires or the witches?”

“I hope it’s the vampires,” Sylvia said, making a face. “I don’t relish constantly having to make sure he’s not about to put his hand on my butt for the next six weeks.”

I was taken aback. “What?”

“Ed,” Sylvia said, jerking her chin toward the corner, to where a debonair sixty-something man was talking to two of the production hands, both of whom happened to be comely twenty-somethings with big breasts and short skirts. I’d noticed him trying to look down the server’s shirt during dinner and then had forgotten about him.

“I didn’t realize he was an actor,” I admitted.

“You probably wouldn’t know him,” Sylvia replied. “He would’ve been before your time.”

Technically, Sylvia had been big before my time too. I still knew who she was.

“He was also on a ridiculous western,” Bethany added. She was busy studying the signature drink list in front of Levi. “It was billed as a throwback to a simpler time. It espoused family values and all that other crap.”

“It was likeLittle House on the Prairie,” Sylvia explained. “Do you even know what that is?”

Sure, Little House on the Prairiewas way before my time, but I was familiar with the concept. “I used to watch it on reruns when I was a kid,” I assured her. “I’m familiar with the show.”

“Well, it was like that. It would’ve been on when you were either a toddler or not even born yet. It was a big deal for three or four years, and then everybody lost interest and it was canceled.”

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