Grace Doll by Jennifer Laurens Page A

was retired by the time I was born,” I snap.
    “What else did he say about Grace?”
    Lie, lie, lie. “Like I said, he had great times with her back in the day.”
    “You’re not telling me everything. Jonathan was devoted to Grace. Without question she was the most magnanimous star the world has ever seen. I find it difficult to believe he didn’t say more about her.”
    My fingers dig into my knees. I itch from head to toe with discomfort. I hate lying, even for the money. It’s not worth it. I want to get out of here.
    “Your father didn’t spend much time with you, did he?”
    I avert my gaze for a second. Anger and disappointment sprint through my system. I lift a shoulder. “He remarried.”
    “Did he ever go away for extended periods of time? Without explanation?”
    Breath steams in my chest. I don’t have to admit that to this guy.
    “This may seem insignificant to you,” Solomon continues. “But it’s very important to me.”
    I swallow again—he eyes my throat. I start to sweat. My gaze flicks to the wall, covered with Grace’s photos, paintings—then to my sketch. “Why do you care what Dad did?”
    “Anything at all you can tell me about Grace.”
    “Okay, okay. He said that he liked doing her makeup over all the other actors. He said she was nice. Really sweet. They were good friends. Pals. ” How long can I continue to blow smoke? In reality, Dad only got a far off look in his eyes if Grace was mentioned. Solomon remains eerily silent. “He said she was a hard worker. Talented. That everybody loved her. He wished she hadn’t died.”
    His knuckles whiten on the arms of the chair. “Do you think I’m stupid, Mr. Lane?”
    “You asked, I’m answering.”
    “You expect me to buy this cockamamie crap?”
    “You’re the one who called me.” I sit forward. “What did you think I was going to say?”
    “Jon was Grace’s confidant. He spent hours with her day after day, year after year. She was his priority over everyone else in his life. What did he tell you ?”
    A sudden surge of anger races inside of me. This man is sick. “Yeah, he did spend hours a day with her— a billion years ago . He moved on. Had a family. He had a life.” The lie about family is bitter on my tongue. “Something you should think about doing.”
    I’m done.
    He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His pocked skin begins to redden like a fire burns beneath the surface. Pleasure trickles through my veins.
    I stand, glare down at him. His eyes widen. “He also told me you finally got what you deserved.” Another lie, but this one isn’t bitter. I relish the shock on his face.
    The air in the room thickens with his rage. But I feel powerful. This guy’s no threat. He’s an invalid. And he’s not going anywhere looking like a monster. “Actually, he didn’t tell me that,” I say.”I figured that much out by myself.”
    “Roger!” Solomon’s voice booms.
    Before the hound appears, I step closer. “Keep your money. You need some serious plastic surgery.” I start for the front door. Solomon curses. And curses. I steal glances at the photos and portraits of Grace, hanging on the walls because I have to. It’s as if her voice calls out to me in distant whispers, and I can’t look away. Her haunted eyes, her beauty. No wonder Dad loved her.
    Roger enters the room just as I exit.
    “Leave me the hell alone,” I bark over my shoulder.
    The scent of flowers in the entry hall brings the funeral to mind.
    Dad, what else did you know about Grace Doll?
     
    * * *
     
    I drive to Dad’s. I’m still broke, but I’m glad I told the man off. On the other hand, deep inside my gut, panic swarms like wasps when I think about Solomon’s rage. Have I kicked open a nest?
    Whatever.
    I zip through constant traffic on Sunset Boulevard. The trip was a waste. Now, the gas tank is half empty and I don’t have any money to put more fuel in it.
    My stupidity grinds on me.
    I’ve been gone four hours, not long