Siobhán and Gabhain at 241 Harper's Cove Page 2

  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “A bundle of Black Velvet? You mean the whiskey?”

  “No! Fabric! Black velvet fabric! And I asked her what she planned to do with it, and she said she works with the theater group over in Hastings. But I know for a fact there is no theater group in Hastings.” You know, if he paid attention to what goes on around him, he would know that, now wouldn’t he? “That really looked suspicious to me, and then for her to lie like that? I know they’re up to something. She also told me they’re photographers, but I don’t know about that.”

  “Gloria,” he starts, and I think to myself, Here it comes. “We’ve discussed this before. You’ve got to leave the neighbors alone. Haven’t you ever noticed that any time you step out the front door, anyone who’s outside runs inside and slams the door behind them?”

  “They do not!” I shriek back.

  “Oh yes they do. They all do.” Now he’s standing over me just a little. I think he’s trying to intimidate me, but it won’t work. “You’ve snooped and poked and they’re all done with it. I think you might actually make some friends in the neighborhood if you weren’t always spying on them.”

  “Someone’s got to keep an eye on things around here!” I cry out. “No one else cares!”

  “There’s a difference between keeping an eye on things,” he says, “and putting your eye up against someone’s window to peer in between the curtain and the window facing. A big difference. And every person in this neighborhood knows that. Do you think any of them are saying you’re doing horrible things? Do you think any of them are spying on you?”

  “That’s because I’m not doing horrible things!” I tell him loudly.

  “But they don’t know that! And you don’t know that they do horrible things! It’s all in your head, Gloria―all in your head. I swear, I don’t know why I even come home.” With that, he stomps out of the room and heads straight for the den. He’ll go in there, watch the news, eat whatever I fix, and then read until bedtime, at which time he’ll totally ignore me.

  That’s okay. I think Mr. Cuervo will be keeping me company tonight.

  2

  Siobhán

  “Hey, babe, come down and help us, wouldja?” Gabhain calls out from downstairs.

  I just slip on my flats and yell, “Coming!” When I get down there, they’ve almost got all the draping done. “Looks nice!”

  He points to an edge. “Yeah, but every time we cut it, it ravels something horrible.”

  “That’s easy enough. Just get some masking tape, run it down where you want to cut it, and cut right down the middle of the masking tape. Then leave it on there. It’ll keep it from raveling,” I tell him. “Did you get everything else we need?”

  “Oh, yeah. All kinds of stuff. The crate came from California this morning,” he says. We moved here from California. There was too much competition there.

  Not competition for productions―competition for actors. The industry is big out there and there aren’t enough actors to go around. We started looking for our own talent and when we found someone, some jackass in the industry would woo them away. That got pretty tiresome. Moving away seemed the best thing to do. Gabhain’s got video editing experience, and we can cut the masters ourselves as our own production company. Since he started letting Kelso do the editing, things go much faster. Then we send them to a company that distributes and they manufacture and market. It works out pretty well.

  So Friday all of our talent will be here. We spent some time fixing up the bedrooms upstairs so they’ll have places to stay. Tiny as it is, this house has four bedrooms, and we’ve managed to get two queens into every one of them. It was work, but we did it. Can’t promise they can actually walk in the rooms, but the beds are there!

  Jeremiah, Jason, Bennett, Clay, and Rogue. They’re coming with Jessi, Katrina, Felicia, Kitty, and Gwen. We can get two more people in here, so we’re going to look for some local talent. I went to some of the local gyms to see if I could find some potential talent. When I approach the guys, they’re usually like, “Yeah! Porn! I’d love to!” The women, however, say things like, “What? Do you think I look slutty or something?” And about half of them wind up signing on anyway. I did recruitment for Bangin’ Films out in California, and I was good at what I did. That’s how I knew we could pull this off. If Gabhain can take care of the technical aspects, I can manage the talent with my eyes closed. I’ve been interviewing people all week, people who wouldn’t have to move here because they already live in town. That would be the ideal situation. Of course, once we get up and running again, all of our talent can get their own places, no big deal.

  Those crates―in them are our lighting system, cameras, tripods, sound boards and miking system, and a lot of props. There’s another large crate that’s nothing but props―columns, furniture fabricated at specific heights and depths to allow better use, and a lot of other things. We also have some BDSM equipment that we’ve used in a few shoots, and we’ll buy some big pieces now that we’re here. We thought about renting a warehouse, but we decided we’d just use the basement until we start making money. We’ve been out of business for the move and it’s time to get some work done.

  It takes us most of the afternoon to get everything uncrated and let Gabhain and Kelso take care of it. Kelso’s been with us from the very start, and I don’t know what we’d do without him. He writes most of our scripts, and he’s very good at what he does. He told us last week that he’s got a couple of ideas he wants to talk to us about, niche markets that no one else is filling. I can’t wait to hear about them, but we’ve got to get everything up and working first.

  And later that evening, they call me downstairs. “What’s up?”

  “Look!” Gabhain flips a switch on the control panel and all of our lights come on. “They’re all working! They made the trip!”

  Instead of cheering with him and Kelso, I let loose a huge sigh. Our lighting rigs and the sound and miking system cost us a fortune. They’re investments in the company. If we can just get everything pulled together and get started with our filming next week, our losses won’t take long to recoup and we’ll be on the road to profit.

  I can barely wait.

  I’m in the kitchen trying to put something together for dinner when the back door opens and closes and Kelso stomps in. “Who the hell is that old bag?” he asks.

  I close my eyes and shake my head because I know exactly who he’s talking about. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Gloria?”

  “Yeah. She came over here, quizzing me about the crates and asking me what was in them and what I was doing.” There’s this malevolent grin on his face and I can’t wait to find out what the hell he’s done.

  “What did you tell her?”

  He laughs. “I told her you guys are undertakers and those were crates full of embalming supplies. And a couple of big embalming tables. Plus I’m the makeup and hair artist.”

  Now I start to laugh. “And what did she say?”

  “She sputtered and choked and looked like she was going to faint! It was priceless!” he howls, laughing the whole time.

  Well, there ya go. I’m a mortician. Who would’ve thought?

  I hear Gabhain clomping up the basement stairs. He steps into the kitchen and when I catch a glimpse of his face, I know something’s wrong. “Oh, god, please, don’t tell me …”

  He kind of drags to the table and sits down, then props his elbows on its surface and drops his face into his hands. That’s all I need to see to know it’s something bad, very bad. I glance at Kelso, and he’s cut his eyes toward me. When he shakes his head slightly, I know he’s thinking the same thing. Finally, Gabhain lifts his head, runs his hands down his face, and says the worst possible thing I can think of in that moment. “Our talent just signed with Night Light Films.”

  “No! Why would they do that?” I shriek. I can hear myself coming apart, and I feel it too, but there’s nothing I can do. Tears are already running down my face. “All
ten of them?” He nods. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?”

  “I don’t know, but if there’s a chance you can round up some local talent, you’d better get on it,” he tells me. “Otherwise, we’re out of business.”

  Gloria

  “Isn’t that illegal or something?”

  Russell barely looks up from the newspaper. “What?”

  “Having a mortuary service in a house in this neighborhood?”

  Russell gives a little snort. “Well, it’s not like they’re going to have a lot of walk-in business,” he says, his voice edged with sarcasm.

  “Oh, hahaha. Very funny. But seriously, Russell, dead bodies in their house? What in the world?”

  “That’s a very lucrative business, Gloria. Everybody dies eventually. And people make money taking care of the dead. Besides, I thought you said they were photographers.”

  “I thought they were! But then that guy told me that. I don’t know what to think anymore. Maybe they photograph dead bodies.”

  He puts the newspaper down and glares at me. “I hope you’re not going to cause them any kind of trouble.”

  “Me?” He snorts again. “I would never cause them trouble! I just don’t know if they have the right licenses and permits for that sort of thing.”

  “And why would you know that? You’re not in city government. You don’t work in any of the offices where those things are issued, so you couldn’t know. But you’re just nosy enough to ask,” he says.

  I’m deeply offended. I don’t bother anyone. I just mind my own business, but I am interested in the welfare of the neighborhood. If that makes me a bad person, so be it.

  Then I think of something, so I grab the phone and head into the bathroom. Once the door is closed, I look through my contacts and when she answers, I just ask, “Francine? Who are those people next door to you? Do you know what they’re up to over there?”

  “Gloria? Is that you?”

  “Yes! I just wondered if you know anything about them.”

  There’s a long pause before she says, “Not really. I haven’t bothered them.”

  “Well, I went over there and introduced myself. They seemed nice enough. But there’s this other guy living over there, and today he was out in the back yard demolishing a big wooden shipping crate. And he told me they’re morticians!”

  There’s a little choking sound before she says, “Oh, no, I’m pretty sure they aren’t morticians. I think he was pulling your leg, Gloria.”

  Now I’m stunned. Why would he do that? “So you haven’t seen any dead bodies being wheeled in there?”

  “Lord, no! I’m telling you, he was messing with you! I don’t know what they’re doing, but it was probably furniture or something,” Francine says.

  “You’re sure you haven’t seen any dead bodies?” I ask, wondering if she’s lying to me.

  “Gloria, trust me: If they’d been wheeling dead bodies in there, I’d know. And no. They haven’t.”

  “Well, okay then. Now you know what he told me. I think his name was Kelso. Anyway, talk to you later.” I hang up and sit there on the toilet lid for a few minutes. Is she lying to me?

  I’m feeling a little panicked about all of this, so I think I need something for my nerves. Seems to me vodka just might do that for me. I pull the bottle out of the trash—I put it in the can, then put a liner in, and that keeps it safe if anyone breaks in—and I pour myself a nice vodka Collins. Just the thing for jangled nerves.

  When I wander through the living room to the front window, Russell says, “Already? Seriously?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve already got a drink in your hand?”

  I snort just like he did earlier. “It’s lemonade. Good lord. Can’t a woman have a glass of lemonade?”

  “Then let me have a taste,” he says, a wicked look in his eyes.

  “Go get your own! You’ll drink all of mine!” I tell him.

  He thinks he’s so damn smart. We’ll see about that! As I’m standing there watching, I see a car pull up and two guys get out and walk up to the door. That woman, Siobhán, lets them in. “See? Two guys just went in over there!”

  “So? They just moved. Maybe they’re having some kind of work done to the house,” he tells me.

  Of course they are. Silly me. Probably knocking out a wall to make room for more bodies. How lovely.

  3

  Siobhán

  Everything’s riding on these interviews. I’ve got to find us some talent or we’re screwed and not kissed. I got the phone call from these two and it was hard to get excited about it because I’m so damn disappointed. I thought those people were our friends, but they just bailed for the highest dollar. Oh, well, all’s fair in love and porn.

  They’re good-looking enough, these guys. Michael and Walden. One’s about six feet even, and the other is a little less. But they’re nice and muscled up, very well built. “So, have either of you done any acting before?”

  “I took drama in high school and college, and did some community theater in the summers,” Michael tells me.

  “Walden, what about you?”

  He grins. “Acting? All I’ve gotta do is fuck a girl, right?”

  Okay, dim bulb over here. “Actually, we have scripts. We also have staging. You have to know how to position yourself for the camera in order for us to get the best camera angles of your body and the action. There’s actually some skill required,” I tell him and watch his face fall.

  “I don’t have any experience. I just like to fuck.”

  I shake my head. “That describes about ninety-three percent of the population.” That makes me decide to turn my attentions back to Michael. “So do you have any difficulty getting hard?” He shakes his head. “Staying hard?” Another head shake. “Straight or bi?”

  “Straight.”

  I nod and make a note of that on his application. “There are certain health considerations for people in the adult industry. Are you willing to undergo testing and then to continue testing on a regular basis for as long as you work for us?”

  “Absolutely, for myself and those I’m working with,” he says. I like this guy. He seems to have it together, and I wonder how he and Walden came to be friends. They’re as different as night and day.

  “Good. And do you take any kind of drugs, legal or otherwise?”

  “I take vitamins and supplements, but no illegal drugs and no steroids,” Michael says. I can tell he’s telling the truth. The muscle he has is all built the hard way, not obscenely ropy and disgusting. He’s well built but not hard.

  And then I ask the ten-million-dollar question. “Are you fairly well-endowed?”

  He shrugs. “Compared to what I see in movies, I think I am.”

  “Mind showing me?”

  He stands, unzips his jeans, and slips them down. Then he slips down his briefs. Even flaccid, it’s got a nice size to it. “I mean, I dunno,” he says. “I guess you’ve seen enough of them to know better than I do.”

  “It’ll do nicely. Walden? What about you?”

  He stands and does the same thing Michael did, and I’m a little surprised. It’s average at best, maybe even a little less than average. “Well?” he asks, grinning.

  I don’t answer, just motion for them to zip up while I make notes. “So I’ve got contact information for both of you. Here’s the information on the pay, benefits, and what you’d be expected to do. I’ll call both of you as soon as we have a casting call for parts I think one or both of you would fit well in, and you can decide then. Any questions?”

  “How soon will you be starting?” Michael asks.

  “We’d like to get started with something next week. Are you working somewhere?”

  Michael nods. “Yeah. I work for my brother, but he said he’d work something out with me if I wanted to do this.”

  “I see. Walden?”

  He fumbles for a second. “Uh, no. I don’t have a job right now.”

  “Okay then. I’ll b
e in touch. Thank you for coming by,” I say, standing. Michael stands immediately, and it takes Walden a few seconds to figure out that he’s leaving.

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. McAllister. Hope to hear from you soon,” Michael says.

  “Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Walden throws in.

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for coming by. Have a nice evening.” I watch until they’re in their car and heading out, hoping and praying crazy Gloria doesn’t accost them before they can get out of the neighborhood. When they’re out of sight, I drop onto the sofa and Chester, our little Cairn terrier, hops up and sits on my lap. “Some guard dog you are. You didn’t make a peep while they were here,” I say and stroke his head.

  Michael is a possibility. Walden? I think that one goes in the circular file.

  “So what are you thinking?” I ask over dinner.

  “I’m thinking next Tuesday. Think you can have some talent rounded up by then?” Gabhain asks in return.

  “I’m having some difficulty with the women. I’ve got plenty of men in the pool. Of course, I don’t know how much experience they have, but at least I’ve got names and phone numbers. I only managed to harvest info for two women,” I tell him, “and I’m not sure if they’ll work out or not.”

  “Only one way to find out,” he tells me with a grin.

  “And I suppose you’ll want to do the screen test?” I ask and then laugh.

  He winks at me. “But of course! That’s my job, right?”

  I force my face into a serious expression. “Do I get to screen test the guys?”

  “Sure! That’s what we do. It’s business, right?”

  I’m thinking about that Michael guy and how cute he is, not to mention hung. That should be a pleasure I don’t miss. “Yeah. Business. And I think I’ve got a live one right now. I should call him and see if he’s available next Tuesday. Are we doing them independently or together?”