“The hell?” I said in outrage I didn’t have to fake. “You’re not Val Kilmer! How dare you pretend to be him!”
Sergei coughed. “Wait, what?”
I planted my hands on my hips. “You’re not Val Kilmer, asshole, which means it’s my turn with Justine.”
His face darkened. “Get out of my way, you crazy bitch. I—”
“No,” Justine said with seething force. “You’re finished. Move along before I have you arrested.”
I clapped my hands like a manic pixie. “Run along now, you big faker!”
“Bullshit.” He leveled a haughty sneer over my head at Justine. “My father invested heavily in this movie. I’ll make sure you never work—”
He stopped as a throbbing growl built in my throat. Teeth bared, I met his eyes steadily, watched his ego war with the overworked survival instinct that told him not to tangle with the scary trashy chick.
“Screw this,” he muttered and managed a pathetic glare before slinking off.
“Oh god,” Justine said, voice quavering. I whirled, dismayed at the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks. “Val Kilmer,” she gasped. “Oh Jesus, Val Kilmer.”
Those were tears of laughter. I grinned, relieved. “It was the first thing that popped into my head. Sorry. I didn’t see any security, and you didn’t look real happy.”
She flicked the tears away without smudging her makeup then gave me a brilliant smile. “You’re right, I wasn’t happy at all. Since no one was in line, I asked my security guard if he’d help Mandy and Chad carry the crates to the van. I’m sure that’s what Sergei was waiting for. I was about to do something violent and no doubt bad for my career when you stepped in.”
“He’s a douche-nozzle,” I said. “Who’s his daddy? I’ll go beat him up next.”
Justine sighed. “His father passed away a few months ago—Pietro Ivanov, who seemed like a nice man when I met him last year. But his son is nothing like—”
I snapped my hand up. “Hang on. That asstard told you Pietro was his dad?”
Her eyes slitted at the edge in my voice. “That’s what he told me the first time he came through the line.” Her mouth tightened. “And I believed him. I’m an idiot.”
“Nah, he’s just an ass who figured he could get away with it since Pietro isn’t around to say otherwise.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You knew Pietro?”
Still do, I thought, hiding a smile. “I used to date his nephew,” I said with a shrug.
Her security guard jogged up, consternation on his face. Justine filled him in on what happened, managing to make the part where I jumped on “Sergei” sound way more heroic than it actually was. The guard summoned the deputies, the camera girl showed them the boob-grab pics, and Justine and I watched in delight as the asshole—a.k.a. Boswell Carlton—was arrested and carted off. Ha! I knew he wasn’t a Sergei!
“Oh, crap.” Justine grimaced. “You never got your picture. I have to go introduce the Zombies Are Among Us!! trailer, then I have a gig right after. Are you going to be around tomorrow?”
“Probably not,” I said, “but I don’t need the pic anymore. Jumping the guy was a lot more fun.”
She chuckled. “Well, stop by tomorrow if you decide to come. And skip the line!” With that she hurried off toward a harried studio-type who didn’t seem pleased that so much time had been wasted with Boswell’s shenanigans.
I snagged a bottle of sparkling guava juice then found a spot not far from the stage where short little me could see. Andrew and Justine stepped onto the stage to a wave of mild applause, both smiling as if they were having the absolute best time EVER. Andrew gave a mercifully short and sweet speech about how excited he was for the movie release and how much it benefited the area, blah blah. He turned the microphone over to Justine who enthused about how terrific all the locals were and how she was the luckiest actress ever to have such a great role. Yeah, this lady was one hell of an actress to say all that with a straight face. Of course, everyone applauded.
Justine lifted a hand. The “moon” that lit the tent dimmed. “And now,” she intoned, deep and dramatic, “a few scenes to whet your appetite for Infamous Vision Studio’s latest short film release, premiering tomorrow at two p.m. here in the Fifth Annual Deep South Zombie Fest VIP Graveyard. It’s the documentary they don’t want you to see. You’ve been warned: Zombies Are Among Us!!”
Applause swelled again as Justine leaped nimbly off the stage. The moon went black, leaving only the stars above. Ominous music swelled, and the clapping died away.
The trailer began with a dark screen and narration in a James-Earl-Jones-deep voice.
“The Shocking Truth of monsters living Right Next Door.”
I rolled my eyes at the “B-movie meets documentary” style, but I had to give props to the studio. The production quality was even better than High School Zombie Apocalypse!!, which did a lot to reduce the cheese-factor.
Subtitles flashed up, echoed by the narrator.