My Gun Has Bullets by Lee Goldberg

and has-been actors she'd survived already?
    Sabrina was expecting the Tasmanian Devil in drag—she wasn't prepared for the kindly grandmother who greeted them, pouring two tall glasses of iced tea from an enormous, frosty pitcher.
    "Have a refreshing glass of tea, darling, you look positively blanched." Esther handed Sabrina the glass and gave her a quick once-over. All pert and pretty in a short-sleeved, white T-shirt and vest. Long-legged and slim in faded blue jeans. Baring her perfect boobs on film hadn't hurt her any.
    "Thank you very much, Miss Radcliffe." Sabrina took the glass and smiled. "That's very kind of you."
    "I can't have my niece fainting from sunstroke." Esther gave Boyd his glass of tea. "You didn't tell me she was so sweet. Shame on you, Boyd."
    There was no way Boyd was drinking anything Esther handed him. He tried to think of a way to warn Sabrina.
    "We appreciate the tea, but you know it's not a good idea to drink something so cold immediately after coming in from the heat," Boyd said. "I read that somewhere."
    "Nonsense," Esther said to Boyd, her eyes flashing, for just a moment, with the malice he knew thrived in her soul. But when she turned to Sabrina again, Esther was angelic, harmless Miss Agatha.
    "Next thing you know, he'll say fresh-baked cookies are bad for you, too. I just made a batch, if you'd like some."
    What a nice woman, Sabrina thought. It figures. Hollywood is run by men, so naturally they are scared to death of a woman with power, even when it's a gentle lady like Esther Radcliffe. Of course, they had to portray her as a queen bitch or face their own fears of impotence. Someday, Sabrina hoped, she'd be popular enough that the men in charge felt so threatened they'd concoct ridiculous stories about her.
    "No thank you," Sabrina said. "I'm trying to watch my weight."
    I bet you are, you little slut, Esther thought. But she said, "Oh, isn't she darling." She smiled at Sabrina. "I am so happy you're going to be on the show. Finally, I'll have someone to share girl talk with. We are going to have a marvellous time."
    "I'm certainly looking forward to it," Sabrina said. "I've been a fan of yours since I was a little girl."
    Boyd winced. Sabrina didn't know it, but she had just committed suicide—and without even taking a sip of her drink. It was bad enough Esther had to share the screen with a young beauty, but he knew Esther couldn't stand being reminded she was an old bag by comparison. Esther would ruin her. Then Sabrina had to go and make it worse.
    "I can't believe I'll actually be working with you. It's like a dream come true. When I was six, I adored you as Sally Sweetcake. I wanted to grow up and live with you, and Santa, and all your cartoon elves," Sabrina said, recalling with genuine fondness Esther's famous role as Santa's happy-go-lucky, singing nanny in the Disney classic. "And now here I am."
    Esther loathed the part, and had been trying to escape it, without success, her entire career. But instead of choking the life out of the little bimbo, Esther surprised herself and Boyd by feigning bashful pride. "I'm so glad."
    "Of course, I didn't think I'd be wearing black leather and delivering judo chops." Sabrina giggled. It was an infectious, joyous burst of laughter that endeared most people to her immediately. Boyd was instantly aroused, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by Esther. She saw the pathetic bump in his trousers. A ball of cotton could make a bigger impression. Esther was aroused, too, but in a very different way. Sabrina's innocent laugh made Esther want to grind her thumbs into the bitch's blue eyes until they squished.
    "Well, sweetheart, I want you to think of me, on screen and off, as your loving Aunt Agatha," Esther said. "If you have any problems getting settled in, or you just want to have a slice of homemade pecan pie, drop by and see me."
    Sabrina glanced down at her glass. Oh shit, Boyd thought. He had to think of a way to stop her from drinking