Harlow wrinkled her nose. “It’s not very exciting without the set in place.”
“I bet it is.” Birdie hung her jacket on the hook and kicked her shoes off.
“I’m with Aunt Birdie. I would love to hear a line or two.”
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Harlow picked up the script, re-reading a part, the scene where her character had missed the train, misplaced her bus pass and was forced to walk to work.
Her boss, the guy her character was in love with, lectured her about being late. Harlow, in actor mode while her klutzy character stumbled through the scene, had a major meltdown and escaped to the women’s bathroom where she curled up in a ball, lamenting about how much of a disaster her life was.
“Bravo!” Lottie sprang to her feet, clapping loudly.
Aunt Birdie hooted. “You almost had me in tears.”
Harlow placed her hand behind her back and took a bow. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” she joked.
“What’s all the commotion?” David stepped into the house. Mort scrambled past him and ran into the living room to greet their guests.
“Harlow was playing out a scene and almost had me in tears,” Birdie said. “No wonder she gets paid the big bucks.”
“Stop.” Harlow playfully covered her ears. “You’re making my head swell.”
With the table already set, the others filled their plates and settled in.
Harlow waited until they were almost finished eating before telling them Janice had forwarded a copy of Cheyenne’s commercial.
“Ooh.” Lottie clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Making quick work of storing the leftovers and cleaning up, the group gathered in the living room. Harlow tracked down the email attachment and cast the recording to the television.
The room grew quiet, all eyes on the screen while the credits played. One…two…three seconds. Finally, Cheyenne appeared and background music began to play.
David made a choking sound. “What in the world?”
Chapter 11
Harlow turned the volume up, staring at the television and Cheyenne Clifton riding a bike along a tree-lined street while humming a strange tune, see-sawing between childish and somewhat creepy.
While the set evoked images of a small town, Cheyenne’s outfit, in direct contrast, seemed out of place. Harlow wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“What is that woman wearing?” Lottie coughed loudly.
“She looks like she’s on her way to a heavy metal concert,” David said.
“Or some kinky costume party,” Aunt Birdie muttered.
“The outfit does seem a little…outlandish,” Harlow said.
Cheyenne pedaled along, a serene smile on her face which, to Harlow, was a welcome change from the typical snide and snarky look she bore as she peered down her nose at others with disdain.
Gripping the handlebars, she swerved around a shiny red VW van parked at the curb. A woman and her dog strolled along the sidewalk, giving Cheyenne a friendly wave as they passed by.
Her serene smile disappeared. The bike’s handlebars wobbled. She struggled to keep it upright while her expression, which now appeared to be akin to agonizing pain, gripped her.
The bike tumbled sideways. Cheyenne caught herself and hopped off, watching as it hit the ground. Leaving the bike where it landed, she hobbled to the sidewalk, wincing in pain.
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“An advertisement for issues of a delicate nature.” Lottie dissolved into a fit of laughter, clutching her gut. “So many…so many things could be said.”
