Free Fall of Light by Nina Kiriki Hoffman Page A

she was lying on half a squashy sandwich in the pocket of her coat. She hadn’t brushed her teeth or gone to the bathroom.
    â€œLet me go,” she murmured to his arm. At first it tightened. “Please let me go,” she whispered, with persuaders, and he sighed again and lifted his arm. She scooted out. “Rest well,” she told him, “and wake when you need to.” She slipped out of the room, got it to relock itself, and then left the house, locking it behind her.

    At the hotel ten miles away where the lesser cast and crew were staying, Lauren was waiting in the utilitarian, sterile lobby with her feet up on a coffee table, reading a novel. She put it down as soon as Opal entered. “Did it really take that long to take off his makeup?” she asked.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” said Opal. As a lead actor, Lauren had her own private room in someone’s house in Lapis. All the principal cast and crew had been quartered close to the locations and soundstage.
    â€œWaiting for you,” Lauren answered.
    â€œDid you get supper? We went to the restaurant and ate.”
    â€œMy host family left me a meal. I stopped at the restaurant to look for you, though, on my way here, and you weren’t there. Where’ve you been?”
    Opal checked her watch. Two A.M. She needed to get up in about six hours. “Is there something I can do for you?”
    â€œCan I come up to your room? I’d rather not discuss this in public.”
    There was no one behind the front desk, and no one else in the lobby. Opal supposed someone might come in at any moment. She looked across the parking lot to the restaurant where she and Corvus had had dinner, which was open twenty-four hours and had lots of glass. Travis and Bethany were still ensconced in the corner booth, arguing about something.
    â€œAll right,” Opal said at last, and headed for the elevator. Lauren followed.
    Opal switched on the light in her room and glanced around. She spent so little time here she had made no effort to soften it away from its budget motel one-size-almost-fits-people-with-no-expectations. The maid had made the bed. There was a chair at a rudimentary desk, and a television bolted to a wall shelf. She had to pay extra if she wanted the cable turned on. Her per diem would cover it, but she didn’t need TV after a day working on the film.
    Opal gestured toward the chair. “Please have a seat. I’m sorry. I don’t have anything to offer you. There’s a pop machine down the hall. . . .”
    â€œI don’t need anything,” Lauren said. She took the chair, though.
    Opal dropped onto the bed and fished the squashed half sandwich out of her pocket. “What’s on your mind?”
    â€œI was wondering if I could hire you for a side job.”
    â€œI think I’d get in trouble with the union if I did that.”
    Lauren considered. The corners of her generous mouth stretched into a small frown. “Cash under the table? It’s not complicated. Just a simple disguise. Here’s what’s happening. I got involved with one of my costars on my last film. His name’s Norman Davis. What I didn’t know going in was he’s a nutcase, kind of an obsessive stalker type, and right now he’s unemployed. Somebody said they saw him at the supermarket down the road. I’m kind of afraid of him. I wondered if there was something simple I could do to hide myself from his regard. What if he’s been savaging things for fun ever since I broke up with him? I don’t want to be one of them.”
    â€œOh,” said Opal.
    â€œSecurity’s tight enough on the shoot to keep him out. I’ll talk to the chief about this. But I’d also like to be able to go out and wander around, shop, whatever, without being paranoid all the time. Can you help me?”
    â€œI’m sure Rod—”
    Lauren leaned toward Opal, her large dark eyes intent.