A Knife to Remember

features that would have made him seem more likely to be in front of the cameras than behind them. He wasn’t handsome in a traditional sense, but he was striking-looking and sexy in a bizarre, hazardous way. He looked like the sort of man who, in another age, might have come over from Ireland and led labor revolts.
    —and cheated on his wife, Jane thought as he approached them with a dazzling, wolfish grin.
     
     

4
     
    In spite of her better judgment, Jane was flattered at the interested look on Jake’s face—until she realized it wasn’t meant for her.
    “Baby, you’re killing me with those sexy outfits!“ he said with a laugh.
    Jane turned around to find a young woman approaching from behind. She was in her twenties and extremely pretty, but dressed and made up as a turn of the century escapee from a fire. Her long chestnut hair was deliberately disordered and there were sooty smudges on her face and arms. She wore a baggy gray dress with what Jane assumed were artificial sweat stains and ragged tears in the skirt and sleeves. “You old flatterer!“ this young woman said, blowing a kiss at Jake as she went by.
    He watched her, then reluctantly turned back to Maisie, ignoring Jane and Shelley as if they were no more than inanimate objects. “You don’t happen to have seen Bobby’s fancy watch, have you?“ he asked.
    “By ‘Bobby’ I assume you mean Roberto? The director?“ Maisie said coolly. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Maisie wasn’t crazy about Jake. “If he hears you call him that, your ass is grass.“
    “Oh, Bobby wouldn’t mind. He and I are old chums. Seriously, he’s lost his Rolex. He thinks he took it off when you bandaged up his finger this morning.“
    “If he did, he just put it in his pocket. I didn’t pay any attention. I think he got some coffee after I was through with him. Maybe he set it down over there,“ Maisie said, gesturing to the loaded-down craft service table.
    Jake wandered off, looking around the table and taking nibbles of half a dozen things.
    “The director hurt himself?“ Jane asked.
    Maisie started laughing. “It was, honest-to-God, a hangnail. He’s just a raving hypochondriac. Oh, dear...”
    A pair of young women were approaching them, one head down, crying. The other had her arm around her and was muttering to her comfortingly. Maisie got up to meet them and as the sobbing young actress raised her head, Maisie said, “Oh, you poor dear. It’s chicken pox, you know.“
    “I can’t have chicken pox!“ the girl wailed. “I’m not a kid and I’ve got my first line today! I’ve never gotten to say a single word in a single movie and I’m supposed to do a whole scene with Miss Harwell this afternoon!“ She’d gotten so pale that the telltale spots stood out even brighter.
    “I’m sorry, honey, but you’re not going to get to say a word in this one either.”
    Her friend spoke up. “I talked to Carl in makeup. He said they can cover the spots.“
    “Maybe so, but that’s not the point. Chicken pox is a disease. A highly infectious disease that can be very tough on adults like you who missed having it as kids. I can’t let you stay and pass it on to the whole crew—if you haven’t already. Thank God we’ll be wrapped before the incubation period is over!”
    A crowd had gathered around them by this time, clucking curiosity, sympathy, and surprise. But Jane noticed that Jake, standing at a little distance, looked pleased. He suddenly dropped the roll he was munching on into a trash barrel and abruptly plunged between the fake buildings onto the set itself.
    A young man with earphones standing by the table suddenly raised a bullhorn to his lips. “Quiet on the set!“ he bellowed.
    The unexpected blast of sound nearly flung Jane and Shelley out of their chairs.
    “Quiet on the set!“ they heard echoed two or three times from various distances, then another bullhorn voice squawked, “Rolling!”
    A complete and stunning silence fell over the entire production. It was so quiet, Jane realized, that if she’d closed her eyes, she wouldn’t have believed another human being was anywhere near. And yet there were probably a hundred people milling around chatting only a second before.
    The girl with the chicken pox was led away, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs, and Maisie came back to join them. Jane started to whisper a question, but Maisie hushed her with a finger to her lips.
    Everyone stood