Roderick Marshall and the crew were waiting. The director studied Rachel a moment and said, “Perfect. We’re going to do a two-part test, Rachel. You’re going to sit in this chair and I’ll ask you some questions off-camera. Just be yourself.”
“Right. And the second part?”
“The short test scene I mentioned.”
Rachel sat down and the cameraman set his focus. Roderick Marshall was standing off-camera. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Just relax. You’re going to be wonderful. Camera. Action. Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“I hear you’re a model.”
Rachel smiled. “Yes.”
“How did you get started?”
“I was fifteen. The owner of a model agency saw me in a restaurant with my mother, went up and talked to her, and a few days later I was a model.”
The interview went on for fifteen easy minutes, and Rachel’s intelligence and poise shone through.
“Cut! Wonderful!” Roderick Marshall handed her a short test scene. “We’re going to take a break. Read this. When you’re ready, tell me, and we’ll shoot it. You’re a cinch, Rachel.”
Rachel read the scene. It was about a wife asking her husband for a divorce. Rachel read it again.
“I’m ready.”
Rachel was introduced to Kevin Webster, who was going to play opposite her—a handsome young man in the Hollywood mold.
“All right,” Roderick Marshall said. “Let’s shoot it. Camera. Action.”
Rachel looked at Kevin Webster. “I talked to a divorce lawyer this morning, Cliff.”
“I heard about it. Shouldn’t you have talked to me first?”
“I did talk to you about it. I’ve talked to you about it for the last year. We don’t have a marriage anymore. You just weren’t listening, Jeff.”
“Cut,” Roderick said. “Rachel, his name is Cliff.”
Rachel said, embarrassed, “I’m so sorry.”
“Let’s go again. Take two.”
The scene really is about Jeff and me, Rachel thought. We don’t have a marriage anymore. How could we? We live separate lives. We hardly see each other. We both meet attractive people, but we can’t get involved because of a contract that no longer means anything.
“Rachel!”
“Sorry.”
The scene began again.
By the time Rachel finished the test, she had made two decisions: She did not belong in Hollywood.
And she wanted a divorce…
Now, lying in bed in Rio, feeling ill and exhausted, Rachel thought, I made a mistake. I never should have divorced Jeff.
Tuesday when Kemal finished school, Dana took him to the therapist who was working with Kemal and his new arm. The artificial arm looked real and functioned well, but it was difficult for Kemal to get used to it, both physically and psychologically.
“It will feel like he’s attached to a foreign object,” the therapist had explained to Dana. “Our job is to get him to accept it as a part of his own body. He has to get used to being ambidextrous again. There’s usually a two- to three-month learning period. I must warn you that it can be a very difficult time.”
“We can handle it,” Dana assured him.
It was not that easy. The following morning Kemal walked out of the study without his prosthesis. “I’m ready.”
Dana looked at him in surprise. “Where’s your arm, Kemal?”
Kemal raised his left hand defiantly. “Here it is.”
“You know what I mean. Where’s your prosthesis?”
“It’s freak. I won’t wear it anymore.”
“You’ll get used to it, darling. I promise. You have to give it a chance. I’ll help you to—”
“No one can help me. I’m a fukati cripple…”
Dana went to see Detective Marcus Abrams again. When Dana walked in, Abrams was at his desk busily filling out reports. He looked up, scowling.
“You know what I hate about this damned job?” He indicated the pile of papers. “This. I could be out on the street having fun shooting perps. Oh, I forgot. You’re a reporter, aren’t you? Don’t quote me.”
“Too late.”
“And what can I do for you today, Miss Evans?”
“I came to ask about the Sinisi case. Has there been an autopsy?”
“Pro forma.” He took out some papers from his desk drawer.
“Was there anything suspicious in the report?”
She watched Detective Abrams scan the paper. “No alcohol…no drugs…No.” He looked up. “It looks like the lady was depressed and just decided to end it all. That it?”