Crown Jewel Read Free Page B

his bed. His sigh of relief when he saw that he was alone was so loud that Ellie, his housekeeper, probably heard it in the kitchen.
    He deserved the misery he was feeling. What in the name of God had possessed him to start drinking after fifteen years of sobriety? Philly was the answer. Thank the Lord he didn’t have to report to the studio. He’d never make it even if it was just a walkaway part for him. He scrunched his eyes to look at the clock: 6:30. He rolled over with the intention of sleeping all day so the headache banging inside his skull would go away.
    The phone rang. No one called him at six-thirty in the morning except Philly, who was also known to call him at five-thirty, four-thirty, midnight, and any damn time he felt like it. The studio also called whenever they felt like it. Should I answer it or shouldn’t I? The hell with it. The phone kept ringing. The sound was killing his head. He finally picked it up.
    â€œRicky,” Ted said urgently, “the studio called last night and left a message. The shoot’s on. Get your ass in gear, and I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
    â€œShit!”
    â€œYeah, shit! Be by the gates, and we’ll do a wheelie and get over there in nothing flat.”
    Ricky made it with a minute to spare. “You’re in no condition to drive that race car this morning, Ted. Are you crazy?”
    â€œProbably. However, I don’t have a hangover like you do. I ate my breakfast. I also slept four hours. I’m good to go. Did you check your messages?”
    â€œNo,” Ricky groaned. “Listen, Philly’s going to be on the lot. Let’s not say anything about last night, okay? I’ll go to AA and confess my relapse. I’ll go to Makeup before I see him.”
    Ted nodded. “I was thinking this morning in the shower. I will go with you to the islands if the invitation still stands. I decided to pass on that D.C. flick they’re planning.”
    â€œYeah, sure. Glad for the company.” At least he would have someone to talk to while he was there.
    Thirty minutes later, they showed their security passes to the guards and drove through the gates. Ted headed for the lot where they were scheduled to shoot the car chase scene. They both heard the sound of the siren at the same time. Ted pulled to the side as an ambulance careened past him. Another accident on the lot. Somebody probably broke a finger or sprained an ankle.
    When they saw the ambulance skid to a stop on Lot 9, they both hit the ground running.
    â€œWhat the hell happened?” Ricky shouted to be heard over the chaos.
    â€œWhere the hell were you, Lymen?” the director, Donald Sandusky, yelled. “I can tell where you were, Lam, by the looks of you. We waited a goddamn hour for you and had to go without you since time is money around here as you well know. This is the result, and you two can take the blame for it!” He waved his arms to indicate the bedlam.
    â€œWhat…happened?” Ricky croaked.
    The director dropped his head to his hands. “Jesus, Ricky, I’m sorry. We had it covered. I swear to God we did. That car was checked five times. Conway, Ted’s backup, was driving. I don’t know what the hell went wrong.”
    Ricky looked around at the milling cast, at the crumpled race car. Then he noticed that no one was looking at him. His stomach flip-flopped as the wind kicked up and ruffled his hair. “For God’s sake, what are you saying, Sandusky? Why are you apologizing to me? You just got done blaming me and Ted. Make up your mind already.” He started walking toward the wrecked car.
    Ted Lymen, his face whiter than the tee shirt he was wearing, grabbed at Ricky’s arm. “Don’t go there, Ricky.”
    Ricky shook Ted’s hand off as he raced to where they were lifting a still form onto a stretcher.
    â€œOh, Jesus, no!” he screamed. “Not Philly! Oh, God,