"Well, that's not good," Jon says. "I think that's a bad omen."
"Yeah?" I ask, finding my voice. "You do?"
"I'm superstitious." Jon shrugs. "I believe in bad luck."
"When did this happen?" I ask Jason. "When did Kelly make the call for her?"
"A couple days before he disappeared," Jason says.
Rain calls me after I text her Kelly Montrose?
"Where did you go last night?" I ask. "Why did you leave? Were you with Julian?"
"If this is going to work the way you want it to," she says, "I have to take care of some things first."
"What things?" I'm walking out of the complex, holding the phone tightly against my ear.
"You can't ask me that."
"I talked to them about you." I realize I'm unable to move while I'm on the phone with her. "They're going to see you again."
"Thanks," she says. "But listen, I have to go."
"There's a party tonight," I say. "Here in Culver City."
"I don't think I can make that, Clay."
"Rain - "
"Just give me a day or two and then we can be together, okay?"
"Why didn't you tell me you knew Kelly Montrose?"
"I'll explain everything when I see you," she says. "I have to go."
"Why didn't you tell me Kelly Montrose got you the audition?" I'm whispering this.
"You never asked," she says, and then hangs up.
There's nothing to do but wait for the party and since I have nowhere else to go I stick around Culver City, skipping the afternoon auditions, the fear returning as I walk to a liquor store to buy aspirin, the alcoholic dreaminess of everything, the ghosts swarming everywhere whispering You need to be careful who you let into your life, and I'm pacing the courtyard while I return a couple of calls - leaving messages for the agent, the manager, the movie about the monkeys, Dr. Woolf - and smoking cigarettes by the swimming pool and watching the decorating crew string up lights along the length of a curving beige wall that borders one end of the pool and then I'm introduced to the actor who got the main role of Grant, Kevin Spacey's son, in The Listeners and the boy is unusually handsome even with the beard he has because of the pirate movie he's shooting and screens have been set up and headshots of various young actors are flashing on them and then from somewhere complaints are made and the screens are repositioned and I meet another girl who won another modeling competition and the afternoon becomes grayer, the sky shrouded with clouds, and someone asks me, "What's the matter, dude?"
The party surrounds the pool and paper lanterns are strung along the courtyard and songs from the eighties are playing and everyone's familiar-looking even though they're all eighteen and I'm hoping that Rain will surprise me by showing up but also knowing that she won't. Cade, the trainer from Equinox, is here - I forgot that I had made the call - and now that I understand what his connection to Julian really is I'm embarrassed Cade thinks I'm clueless enough not to know, and I'm standing next to one of Jason's assistants and drinking vodka from a plastic cup and the boy playing Kevin Spacey's son keeps asking me questions about his character that I answer in a monotone and he responds by pointing out an owl that's nesting in the palm tree and then I see the actress - she's a girl, really - that I hit on in the first-class lounge at JFK before Christmas, maybe a month ago, and Amanda Flew is so much younger than I remember and whenever she glances over at me she smiles nervously at the boy she's talking to and sometimes the boy whispers in her ear and another boy lights her cigarettes and I'm now aware that I've drunk too much.
"Do you know that girl?" I ask the assistant. "Amanda Flew?"
"Yeah," the assistant says. "Do you know her?"
"Yeah," I say. "I f**ked her."
There's a beat but when I look over at him he says, "Cool." He shrugs but he's creeped out. "She's hot. She's slammin'." Another pause. "I guess she likes older guys, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess." I shrug too, and then ask, "Why do you say that?"
"I thought she was one of Rip Millar's girls."
I'm watching as Amanda gets a text, glances at it and then makes a call. She barely says anything, just listens, and then clicks off.
"His girls?" I'm asking.
"Yeah," the assistant says and then noting my reaction in just those two words, adds, "I mean, it's not like a secret or anything. She was part of his pu**y posse." He pauses. "But I've heard she's crazy. Really messed up."
