My experience with Hollywood studio sets extended to about half a day of snooping around, but I knew chaos when I saw it.

It made sense, given what I knew. The director knew he was on a sinking ship, and what little passion he had was spent snorting down cadillacs in the bathroom. The star hated her management, the budget was in the toilet, and nobody was going to bother trying to patch the ship when it was steaming straight for an iceberg in a few months no matter how the films did.

Two of the extras were sharing a cigarette on set, flagrantly ignoring posted signage about smoking outside. The smell of a dirty diaper wafted from one of the other youthlocks, though I couldn’t pin down which one, and whoever it might have been they didn’t much seem to care. Everyone was in a holding pattern, waiting around, killing time until they got cut for the day.

Shelly paced at the front of the room, and I had to give her credit as the one professional on set. For all her anger, she had a job to do, and she did it–her steps moved through choreography, and I could see her lips move as she whispered lines to herself, walking through the next dance number in quiet rehearsal.

“Crackerjacks and candy stripes, gummy bears and sweet delights,” she whispered, then stomped a pretty white shoe on the floor and spun, sending her costume dress twirling. Raising an arm and beaming at an invisible partner, she added, “Then he’ll take my hand…”

Shuffling up to her, I got Shelly’s attention, waiting for her to stop her music-free dance before I asked, “Where’s Waters?”

She caught the embers of anger in my frown, and her precocious smile vanished, replaced with hard rage. “It’s him?”

“It’s him,” I confirmed. “You were right.”

A spark caught behind her eyes, and in a matter of moments, righteous vindication turned to a blaze. Beneath her rosy makeup her face turned red, and she whirled and bellowed, voice half incoherent with rage, “WILLIAM!”

Scurrying footsteps scrambled, and the beleaguered talent manager got onto set a moment later, his expression more frayed and weary than ever. “What?”

“You bastard,” Shelly began, but I raised a hand, and she fell silent before her anger could turn to a tirade.

“Three films,” I said simply, and the realization in his eyes was almost enough confirmation all on its own.

He made a few leaps in logic and stammered out his reply. “Who is this?”

“Nick Juliet,” Shelly explained. “Private eye.”

Waters shook his head, stumbling over his words. “Shelly–I–I’m sorry. I couldn’t…I wasn’t allowed to say anything, it’s in my contract.”

Anger derailing, Shelly shot a glance back my way. “What?”

“You knew,” I continued, refusing to slow down. “You had three films left, then Shelly’s time as America’s Golden Girl would be gone. That’s not much time to cash in on a legacy, is it?”

William Waters’ shoulders slumped, deflating like a blimp.

Around us, a crowd was forming. Shelly’s screaming had attracted attention, and the confrontation was more dramatic than anything they’d filmed in years–we had all eyes on us. The cast, the crew, even Candace came out from the green room to see what was happening.

“Here’s how I see it,” I continued, staring up at the tall, gangly manager. “You know Shelly hates those posters, she hates the marketing and the sponsorships you try and get her, but you’re hungry, and you know the butter and eggs are going to be off the table before much longer. You have to make your quick cash, now, because if you lose any time, your starlet’s going to be out of the public eye and nobody will pay the big bucks for her face.”

William wouldn’t meet my eyes, though his downcast gaze still fell near me. Pathetically, he nodded. “Can you blame me?” he asked, weakly. “You have to make hay while the sun shines.”

“That’s not all,” I continued, driving my verbal assault forward. “You’re getting a consistent cut right now, but if Shelly goes to dramas, your prospects are up in the air. Who knows if you’ll still be in the picture if she starts working for Candor Taurus? And, besides–if Shelly gets cast in a drama, if people start seeing her as the woman she is, it’ll make her appeal as an ad darling considerably weaker.”

All eyes were on us, all watchers were hushed. Shelly contained her abject rage, but I knew the screaming would come soon, once I was finished.

I let Waters speak, though I kept my glare burning through him, cutting past his defenses. “You’ve got it all wrong,” he said, head trembling and shaking.

“Do I?” I demanded. “You’ve got all the incentive in the world–if Shelly starts playing in dramas, your career is in jeopardy and you lose out on sponsorship revenue. If she stays here until the ship sinks, you’ve got one last paycheck before the golden goose dies.”

“I’m not going to risk a sure thing on some half-cocked pipe dream!” Waters snapped, shocking me with his sudden energy. Looking me in the eye, he spoke bitterly. “I don’t know what Shelly told you, but there’s no manager in the country that could get her a job working for a dramatic production. This is it. I haven’t failed to get her new roles because I’m bad at management, it’s because it’s impossible. Shelly has a few months left, a few films, and I’m using that time to make sure she gets as much bread to retire on as possible, because I’ll be damned if I burn it trying to find some crock of gold that doesn’t exist!”

My confidence wavered.

“Impossible?” Shelly demanded, stepping in. “How can you say that? I had the role!”

Waters stared at her, eyes wide, baffled. “What?”

My understanding of the situation fractured. (He doesn’t know.)

“I got the job,” Shelly snarled. “Candor Taurus wanted me, and then you threw out the casting letter.”

“What?” Candor shot back. “Shelly, I–”

“He doesn’t know,” I repeated out loud. “Shelly, he doesn’t know.”

Eyes fell on me once more, and I took a breath, collecting my thoughts.

“Your manager didn’t sabotage your career,” I said. “He just thinks you’re incompetent.”

Waters shook his head. It was his turn to get angry, and he threw that frustration at me. “No I don’t! Shelly is a fabulous actress, but it doesn’t matter how good she is, nobody’s ever going to take her seriously as a leading lady when she looks like that.”

“You son of a bitch.” I expected as much to come from Shelly, but the statement instead came from the side set. Candace stepped forward, looking almost as angry as her youthlocked co-star.

William Waters whirled, eyes widening. “What? Did you come here to blow your wig at me too?”

“The studio’s shutting down?” Candace demanded. “You knew that?”

“Well–” he began, shaking his head. “Sure, muffin, but…it’s complicated. I signed an NDA before they told me. You can’t blame me for keeping quiet, we’d be out on our backsides if I’d let it slip, and–”

“I don’t care that you didn’t tell me, you worthless crumb,” Candace interrupted, stepping up into his face. “You’re my agent.”

“So?”

“So where’s the fucking poster parade for me?” Candace roared.

The studio fell silent for a moment, all eyes on the second-billing star. Beneath the rage I could feel her frustration, her sadness and grief, barely contained.

“You’re going out and doing all this shit to keep Shelly afloat,” Candace continued, her eyes burning hot and wet. “Practically dragging her through marketing meetings and getting mockups you know she’s going to hate and running all across town to earn her a buck–and what the hell am I? Yesterday’s news?”

Waters put his hands up in a weak defense, stepping back. “I’m only one guy, you dig? I can’t be everywhere at once, and I’ve gotta put my eggs in the right baskets!”

“You just dropped me!” Candace screamed. “You and everyone else! I fought tooth and nail for this studio, I busted my ass for you and Shelly, and you’re both just willing to kick me out to the curb the moment it’s convenient for you!”

“Candace,” Shelly said, her eyes sparkling with sadness. “I didn’t know either, I swear.”

“Yeah?” Candace snarled. “And that’s why everyone’s talking about you flaunting off to go work with Candor Taurus? You think if you go dance off to Washington with your new friends, things would just be smooth sailing down here? Fat chance–you’d be abandoning us to sink, and none of you care.”

She burst into tears, grief and anger finally overwhelming the actress. I could tell her upset was real–she’d taken it on the chin a few too many times, she’d grown up in an industry built on backstabbing and rumors, and despite playing roles for a living, she wasn’t faking this.

That only gave me a flicker of guilt as I stepped up, raising my voice. I asked my question to Shelly, but pitched it at Candace. “What’s the film you got offered?”

Candace’s confused grief turned on me, an expression so twisted up that it was hard to read. “What?”

“It was supposed to be called, Mister Brown Goes to D.C.,” Shelly said, almost as confused as her co-star.

“Okay,” I said. “Did you tell anyone that?”

Shelly shot me a perplexed frown. “No, I–”

She got it, and her emotions melted away into horror.

In case anyone else in the gathered crowd of extras and stage hands hadn’t put it together, I shot my next question at Candace. “How’d you know that Shelly was going to Washington?”

“I–” Candace began, spluttering. “Someone–I heard someone talking about it.”

“Nobody on set knew,” I insisted, my voice flat and face expressionless as I spelled it out. “Nobody except Shelly, and whoever it was that took her job offer and tossed it in the trash.”

Candace stared at me, tears marking rivers into her makeup. “I…”

“You spent your whole career protecting Shelly,” I said. “You saw her as your actual sister, didn’t you? It must’ve come as a sucker punch when you found out she’d be leaving you behind, so you threw away the message and made sure to bury it.”

“I–” Candace repeated, shaking her head. “She…she didn’t even tell me!”

The room was perfectly silent, save for the near-inaudible buzz of the bright tungsten stage lights, until a choked whimper cut through the tension.

I’d half expected Shelly to be the one to break into sobs, but it was Candace who lost control, crying incoherently in front of all of us.

“Mr. Juliet,” Shelly whispered, her voice straining as she contained her feelings of betrayal. “I’ll send your check in the mail. I think we’re done here.” She spun on her heels, storming out of the studio. The slam of the side door echoed through the set as she left us, furious.

I watched her go. She probably needed a friend–or, at least, a shoulder to cry on.

Instead, I waddled to the clothing rack, retrieving my trench coat. Slinging it on my back, I slid my arms through and retrieved a candy cigarette from the pocket. The sugar melted over my tongue as I popped it between my lips, suckling as I shuffled to the front exit of the studio. Margaret wouldn’t be there to pick me up for a couple more hours, but I could catch the bus and make my way downtown.

It was time for me to leave.

The case was closed, and I needed a dame bringing me her troubles like I needed diaper rash.

The End

…

Shelly Chapel Sues Former Co-Star

In a stunning turn of events, famed youthlock actress, Shelly Chapel, has launched a legal battle against her former co-star, Candace Wick. According to her filing, Candace is being sued for intentional damage to Shelly’s career after concealing an offer to work on a new film with Candor Taurus.

Evidence discovered by Private Investigator, Nick Juliet, played a crucial role in this suit. Testimony will be provided–

Interesting.

It seems our little detective has been doing quite well for himself.

Maybe it’s time for me to let him know I’m in town.

...

Written as a commission - and I had a lot of fun playing with the private eye gumshoe tropes in an ABDL context!

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