Free Bombshell by Phyllis DeMarco Page A

the light. Make sure you get these people to sign the release forms—and find out who those ragamuffins belong to, so we can get them on film, too.”
    “My children?” Molly asked. “Are you makin’ a picture or somethin’?”
    “Just a little something for Movietone News,” he said with a yawn. “They’re doing a story on all the good Annalee’s been doing around here. Personal interest stuff, that sort of thing.”
    Molly laughed nervously and gingerly smoothed the waves in her hair. “Oh, she’s done loads of good here. Got me and Earl back to work, and a whole bunch of other folks, besides.”
    “Yeah, save it for the cameras, sweetie.”
    “Sully!”
    “Annalee, can I go home and get my good dress?” Molly asked. “And maybe fix up my hair?”
    “No,” Sully insisted. “You look fine just the way you are. Perfectly downtrodden and impoverished.”
    “Oh.” The disappointment and embarrassment in her eyes broke Annalee’s heart.
    “Molly, go get your good dress,” she said. “And make yourself pretty for the camera.”
    Molly smiled and hurried out of the café, leaving Annalee alone to glare at her manager. “You can’t come here and talk to people like that,” she warned. “I won’t have it, Sully. These folks are good and decent—they weren’t put on this earth just so you could come and exploit them.”
    Sully sat back in his chair and gave a surprised laugh. “Calm down, Toots. You know this is all to save the career you screwed up. When you stopped calling, I got a little nervous, thinking you’d run off and eloped with some poor dope and just didn’t have the heart to tell me.”
    “I didn’t have time to call. I’ve been busy here.”
    “Yeah, remind me to make sure you get a good manicure when we get you back to Los Angeles,” he snipped. “You look like shit.”
    Annalee could hear no more of his abuse. “Look, you can film here as long as you treat these people with some respect,” she told him. “If they don’t want to talk to you, then you leave them alone.”
    Sully’s grin was terrible. “Got yourself a nice little set-up, huh? Half the town does your bidding, treats you like a goddess—like those jungle pictures where the savages worship the white queen. I warned you about this going-native bullshit, didn’t I?”
    “And you can’t talk to me like that anymore, either,” she insisted, though the quiver in her voice made him smile even more.
    “Are you going to tell me that the last ten years have been a waste of my time?” he asked. “All the work I put into making you a star was all for nothing?”
    “Oh, stop it. You made plenty of money off me.”
    “Yeah, and I can make even more if this goes right. Toots, we can make more. Don’t you want to see that kid of yours set up for life? Don’t you think it deserves more than scrounging around for scraps like those little brats outside?”
    The front door swung open, and John Calaway entered, looking around with some confusion. “What’s with all the movie cameras?”
    The burly cameraman poked his head in the door once more. “We’re all set up, Mr. Sullivan.”
    Sully rose to his feet and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “You think about what I said. Places like this go under in less than six months. You and that kid deserve better. Think about it.”
    Annalee looked away and did not see the derisive grin her manager sent the sheriff’s way, nor did she see the questioning look in John’s eyes until he sat down across from her.
    “Who was that?”
    “My manager,” she whispered. “Please don’t ask me any more questions for now. I just want to go home for a little while.”
    “Tell you what. I’ll take you home to my house,” he offered. “I’ll make us a little something to eat, and you can relax a bit. I don’t like how you’ve been lookin’ lately. It’s like that feistiness has gone out of you. I miss it.”
    “I’ll be all right once I eat,” she said and, to