“You dropped off everyone’s radar some years ago. No one knew where you were or what you were doing,” she said in a rush of words. “So dish, and tell me everything you’ve got going on.”
“Not much to tell, really.”
She blew a raspberry. “Oh pooh. You vanish for, like, eight years and you say there’s nothing to tell? You didn’t find God or anything? Wait a minute, you said you wanted to talk to Donna. Did you join that group of hers, the Reactionaries?”
“Responsivists,” Kevin corrected.
“Whatever,” Gwen shot back, using her best Valley Girl accent. “Are you part of that?”
“No, but I need to talk to her about it.”
They reached the makeup trailer. Gwen swung open the door and glided up the retractable stairs. The waxy smell of cosmetics and potpourri was overwhelming. There were six chairs lined up under a long mirror in front of a counter littered with bottles and jars of every size and shape, as well as eyeliner pencils and enough makeup brushes to sweep a football stadium. Gwen pulled two bottled waters from a small fridge, tossed one to Kevin, and dropped into one of the chairs. The intense lights made her hair glow like cotton candy.
“So, come on, it was just after the Oscars—which you should have won, by the way—and, poof, you’re gone. What gives?”
“I had to get away from Hollywood. I couldn’t stand it anymore.” Obviously, Kevin wasn’t going tell her what he’d been doing since turning his back on the movie business, but she had been a good friend and deserved to know the truth.
“You knew me,” he started. “I was a lefty, like everyone else. I voted Democrat across the board, hated everything to do with the Republican Party, donated to environmental groups, and drove a hybrid car. I was as much of the Hollywood establishment as anyone.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve become a conservative,” Gwen said in mock horror. She’d never shown the slightest interest in politics.
“No. It’s not like that,” he said. “I’m just putting what happened into context. Everything changed on 9/11.” Just the mention of the date caused Gwen to blanch, as if she knew where the story was headed. “My sister was coming to see me from Boston.”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Hers was the plane that struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center.”
She reached across to where he was sitting to grab his hand “Oh, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”
“I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone.”
“So that’s why you left. Because of your sister’s death.”
“Not directly,” Kevin said. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I went back to work three weeks after her memorial service, trying to get my life back to normal, you know? I was doing makeup for this period drama. I won’t tell you who the star was because she’s even bigger today than she was then. She was sitting in the chair, talking to her agent about the attacks. She said something like, ‘You know, I think what happened to those people was terrible, but this country deserves it. I mean, look at the way we treat the rest of the world. It’s no wonder they hate us.’
“That wasn’t an uncommon thought,” Nixon added, “then or now. But then she said the people who died—my sister—were as much at fault for the attacks as the hijackers.
“I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My little sister was twenty-six years old and about to start her medical residency, and this overpaid bimbo says the attacks were my sister’s fault. It was the disconnect, Gwen. People in Hollywood are so disengaged from reality that I just couldn’t take it. This actress made millions parading around on screen in her underwear in an offense to Muslim sensibilities and she lays the blame for hatred on my sister.
“I listened to what people in the industry were saying for another couple of months and knew everyone felt pr
etty much the same. I could take the ‘it’s America’s fault’ stuff. What I couldn’t stomach is that no one there believed they were also part of that America.”
Kevin didn’t add that he had gone straight to the CIA to offer his unique abilities or that he’d been presented a much more challenging and lucrative job with the Corporation, most likely because Langston Overholt had passed his name on to Juan before the CIA even knew he was interested.
Adjusting to the gung ho paramilitary nature of Cabrillo’s band of pirates had been remarkably easy, and, for the first time, Nixon had come to understand the lure of the military. It wasn’t the action and adventure, because most days were filled with tedium. It was the camaraderie, the sense of loyalty that the men and women shared for each other. They gave each other the ultimate responsibility, of keeping the other person from harm, which formed bonds far deeper than Kevin thought were possible.
But his time with the Oregon hadn’t really changed him much. He still gave money to liberal causes, voted the Democratic ticket whenever he remembered to get an absentee ballot, and the hybrid car was garaged in a storage unit in L.A. He just valued the freedom to do those things all the more.
“Wow, I am so sorry,” Gwen said into the lengthening silence. “I don’t really pay attention to that stuff much.”
“I didn’t use to either, but now . . .” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged. He could sense that he made her uncomfortable. Maybe he had changed more than he’d thought.
The trailer door was suddenly thrown open. On the interview circuit of morning talk shows or on the red carpet of a movie premiere, Donna Sky was a luminous presence that could fill any room. She was the epitome of style, poise, and elegance. Storming into the makeup trailer with her hair hidden by a baseball cap and no cosmetics to hide the fact she had acne, she looked like any harried twenty-something with a chip on her shoulder and a sense of entitlement. Her eyes were bloodshot and ringed by dark circles, and, from across the room, Kevin could smell last night’s alcohol binge.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” she demanded harshly of Nixon. Her trademark voice was frayed because of an apparent hangover. Then she paused, studied him, and finally recognized him. “You’re Kevin Nixon, aren’t you? You did my makeup on Family Jewels.”
“That was your big break, as I recall,” Kevin said, standing.