Too Little, Too Late (10 page)

The fairytale came to a screeching halt when Lyn’s sister on the show was found dead under the Santa Monica Pier, her life tragically cut short at 16, the result of an accidental drug overdose. Lyn knew her friend had had a death wish for a long time. Too much fame and too much heroine had taken their toll. At first, public sympathy had been overwhelming, especially since Cherry’s death was written into the show, but once the next Hollywood scandal hit the media, interest in Cherry’s death died, together with the public’s interest in the show.
Daddy’s Little Girls
was eventually cancelled after a five-year run. In the relatively short time it had been on the air, the show had become a true cultural phenomenon, spanning 24 countries worldwide in syndication.
Nickelodeon
still carried it every afternoon and a new generation of kids was growing up wanting to be
Daddy’s Little Girls
.
 

When the show ended, America’s teenage sweetheart was seventeen and ready to retire. Frank Stromboli had been dead for a year and Kate and Marcus’ idyllic union had hit its first major stumbling block, thanks to a serious stroke that left Marcus partially paralyzed. Less than a year later, a second stroke took his life.

PART TWO

February, 2011

Hollywood, California

Just another screwed up day in Tinseltown
, thought Liz Farrell as she impatiently surveyed the chaos around her. Swells of flamboyant he-she’s had spilled out onto the Boulevard, forcing traffic to come to a grinding halt amid blaring horns and a cacophony of irate expletives from the stranded motorists. Adding to the growing bedlam were the groups of actor-wannabes, buskers and opportunistic scam artists enthusiastically working the tourist trade congesting the terrazzo-squared sidewalks on either side of Hollywood Boulevard.

Although she worked for a tour company that exploited the dream factory myth, Liz still believed Hollywood to be a magical place. Her good friend, Otis, accused her of being a hopeless romantic but to Liz, whose entire childhood had been spent in a succession of miserable foster homes, Hollywood epitomized the very hopes and dreams she’d nurtured throughout her developing years. Of course, she’d also learned that dreams sometimes had a funny way of turning into reality, and not always in the way a person wanted them to.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, Liz sensed a growing restlessness among her charges so she cranked up the air a notch and slid Kenny G into the CD player. A second later, the soothing notes from Kenny’s clarinet wafted through the speakers.

“How much longer before we get to the Hollywood Bowl?” asked a British woman, looking up from the tour book she’d been reading.

“That’s assuming we’ll be able to fight our way through the rabid mobs,” her husband added impatiently. His pasty white skin was red where the southern California sun had left its angry mark.

“I realize the congestion has slowed us down a bit,” Liz commiserated, “but things should pick up once we’re off of Hollywood Boulevard.”

“Look!” cried one of the French tourists. “Zere’s zee ’ollywood sign on top of zee ’ill!”

“What sign?” someone asked anxiously, worried that they might miss something. “Where?”

“I think he means the
H
OLLYWOOD sign,” said one of the older women in the group, “and it’s there, up on that hill.”

There was a collective gasp as everyone in the minibus craned their necks to the right. Smog was at a minimum and the famous landmark could be seen in the distance.

“You’ll be able to get a better look at it as we head up to the Bowl,” Liz told them. “The sign measures 450 feet long, its letters are 45 feet high and it’s visible from pretty well everywhere in Hollywood. The sign originally spelled “HOLLYWOODLAND”, but the last four letters were removed in 1945.” Her charges were spellbound. “In 1932, during the Great Depression, an actress actually jumped to her death from the sign’s giant letter “H”.”

Liz became distracted by a guy who jumped in front of the bus, dressed in a pirate’s costume. The costume had seen better days and his sword was amateurish, out of tin foil. He was just another out-of-work actor looking to make a quick buck from tourist photo-ops. He waved to everyone on the bus and everyone automatically waved back, snapping pictures furiously while he posed for his captive audience. Liz honked her horn in irritation and he finally stepped out of the way so she could turn onto Highland Avenue.

“Bleedin’ wanker,” said the Brit in amazement.

How right you are
, thought Liz irritably.

Traffic again came to a standstill. At this rate, it would take them another hour just to go up Highland to the Bowl. As Liz scanned the street carefully, looking for a possible escape route, a familiar flash of bright pink caught her eye; a sighting so rare these past few weeks that Liz immediately made the unprecedented decision to abort their current itinerary. She executed a hasty left turn into the Renaissance Hotel.

“What eez wrong?” asked the French tourist. “Why are we stopping ’ere?”

“Sorry, folks, but it looks like I was wrong about the traffic. We’re going to have to put the Hollywood Bowl on hold until the roads clear up a bit.” Liz ignored their murmurs of disappointment as she quickly improvised with a new plan. “Not to worry, though. I’ve got something else up my sleeve.” She pointed to her left. “See those huge stone elephants over there? That’ll be the next stop on your tour.”

“What is that place?” one of the Canadians asked with interest.

“Those elephants guard Babylon Court, which is a massive three-storey courtyard inspired by a scene from D.W. Griffith’s movie
Intolerance
, and is part of the Hollywood & Highland Center,” Liz explained. “It’s an amazing place with lots of stores and restaurants and has easy access to Grauman’s Chinese Theater, Hollywood Boulevard and the Kodak Theater, where the Academy Awards are held every year.” She consulted her watch. “You’ll have the next three hours to shop and sightsee. We’ll meet back here at four o’clock and hopefully by that time, it’ll be smooth sailing up to the Bowl.”

“What’s the point in having an itinerary if you can’t stick to it,” the Brit muttered waspishly as he scrambled to be the first one off the bus.

The others quickly followed suit as they collected their belongings and disembarked, eager to leave the confines of their bus, while Liz smiled impatiently and made the appropriate reassurances as they got their bearings. When the last passenger finally got off, Liz grabbed the backpack she always kept with her, locked the minibus and hurried over to where she’d spotted the pink but by the time she reached the spot, there was no sign of it anywhere.

“Damn!” She jumped on a bench and anxiously scanned the crowds, hoping the familiar pink would jump out at her. As luck would have it, she spotted it again as it was about to disappear through the stone archway leading to Babylon Court! She leapt from the bench and sprinted through the throngs of people. Liz concentrated on her quarry who, at that precise moment, was leisurely rifling her way through every garbage receptacle in Babylon Court. Finally, she went inside the women’s restroom where Liz followed her a few minutes later. Immediately assaulted by the pervasive stink of foul body odor, Liz steadfastly ignored the smell as she locked the door behind her.

The woman was sitting on the floor between the rows of toilets, her pink raincoat discarded and lying in a heap at her side. The length of the entire countertop was littered with the contents of the various plastic shopping bags she had been carrying. She seemed unaware of Liz’s presence as she struggled to remove her right shoe.

Liz swallowed the lump in her throat before going over and crouching down in front of her. “Here, let me help you.” Ever so slowly, she reached for the woman’s foot. The woman’s immediate reaction was to cower panic-stricken against the tile wall.

“It’s all right.” Liz’s voice was calm as she carefully took off her backpack. With slow, measured movements, she withdrew a bottle of water. Twisting off the plastic cap, Liz offered it to her.

Grabbing the bottle from her, the woman immediately dumped its contents all over herself.

Undeterred, Liz next withdrew a chocolate bar which she unwrapped slowly, conscious of the wary eyes that followed her every move. She held it just out of arm’s reach, anticipating the eager hand that shot out to take it from her. “Not so fast,” she said, smiling at her. “How about we make a deal?”

The woman continued to eye her warily.

“I’ll give you the chocolate bar if you let me take off your shoes.”

The words were barely out of Liz’s mouth when the woman lunged for the chocolate bar. This time, Liz let her have it. The woman delicately nibbled at the nuts embedded in the chocolate exterior, while allowing Liz to undo the laces of her filthy red high tops. When the laces were undone, Liz stretched apart both sides of the right sneaker as far as they would go. To her consternation, the sneaker wouldn’t budge. She resolutely took her fingers and eased them between the top of the sneaker and the woman’s doughy ankles. After twisting the sneaker several times, she finally managed to pry it off.

Liz looked in revulsion at the mass of rotting flesh. Although the sole of the woman’s foot was rough and calloused, countless earlier blisters had festered, leading to infection around toenails which curled incongruously against the contours of her sneaker. Taking a washcloth from her backpack, Liz went to the sink and wet it before liberally lathering it with soap from the dispenser. Stooping back down, she gently picked up the woman’s foot and separated the toes in order to work her washcloth between them.

“Maria’s little piggies.” The woman’s voice was raspy and barely audible.

Startled, Liz stopped what she was doing. “What did you just say?”

Her voice was stronger this time. “Maria’s little piggies, right Lizzie?”

“Yes, Mom.” The tears Liz had resolutely been holding in check now slid down her cheeks. “And Lizzie’s very happy to see Maria and her little piggies.”

***

Liz looked up at the fast food menu behind the cashier’s head and automatically chose a burger and soda. After paying for her meal, she picked up her tray and hurried over to join her friends.

“Sorry I’m late,” she announced by way of greeting. “Did I miss anything?”

“Hi to you, too,” Otis responded cheerfully.

“Just our usual debate over who had the weirdest tourists today,” Harry told her. He handled the charters for their employer,
Dream Factory Tours
. “Otis wins this one, hands down.”

“I wouldn’t really call my group
weird
,” Otis protested.

“Oh yeah?” challenged his friend. “Then what would you call The Divine Sisters of the Holy Order?”

“Spiritually uplifting,” he replied smugly.

“Really?” asked Kim, who was sitting across from Otis. “I didn’t think you went in for that kind of stuff.”

“Why not? They prayed and sang a bunch of hymns I haven’t heard since I was a kid.” Otis looked positively blissful.

“Tell them about the tour you took them on,” Harry urged.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” argued Otis. “They just wanted to tour some churches.”

“We don’t have a church tour,” Liz reminded him as she nibbled on her burger.

“That’s hardly a problem for an intrepid tour guide such as myself,” he boasted teasingly.

“And where exactly did your Intrepid Wonderfulness end up taking them?” asked Liz suspiciously.

“To just about every church in L.A. County,” he replied breezily, “
and
I managed to collect almost a hundred and seventeen dollars in tips.”

“Praise the Lord!” cried Mack.

“For that kind of money, I would’ve thrown in a couple of synagogues and a Muslim temple,” Kim told him enviously.

“I hear our intrepid tour guide wasn’t the only one with all the excitement today,” Harry announced, staring pointedly at Liz.

Liz glared at Otis.
“You told everyone?”
 

Otis tried his best to look shamefaced. “Sorry. It was too funny not to.”

“It’s not your fault the guy had to take a leak,” Mack reassured her.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t know what happened?” Kim griped.

Liz gave up on her burger, having suddenly lost her appetite. “One of my Brits got propositioned in a restroom this afternoon,” she explained.

“Had it been a hot-looking chick, the guy would’ve come all over himself,” Harry predicted.

Mack shrugged philosophically. “Unfortunately for Liz’s guy, the hand grabbing at his crotch belonged to a set of 44D’s and a dick long enough to make your Brit sing
God Save Queen and
Country
in falsetto!” Laughing uproariously at his own joke, he picked up his garbage and headed for the door.

Kim went over and gave Liz’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Chin up, kid. They don’t pay us to babysit in the can.” She looked anxiously at her watch before giving Harry the signal. “We’d better haul ass, too, otherwise we’ll be late again!” With that, they took off after Mack.

“Are you sore at me for telling everyone?” asked Otis.

“I’ll get over it,” Liz replied curtly. “That Brit was a jerk from the moment he got on my bus, complaining about everything. I don’t know how his wife puts up with him.” She took a dejected slurp of her soda. “With my luck, he’ll blame me for everything, including his nasty sunburn.”

“I think he already tried, sweetie,” Otis admitted.

Liz’s head shot up. “Why do you say that?”

Otis shrugged. “He went and yelled at Delaney after you dropped off your group.”

“What!”

“Yup. He threatened to sue the tour company for abandonment, not to mention his so-called emotional trauma.”

“What did Delaney say?”

“Are you going to eat that?” he asked, pointing to her half-eaten burger.

She shook her head, watching as he took a huge bite. “Otis, would you get on with it, please!”

“Delaney apologized and took down his complaint. As for the lawsuit, he told the guy to go ahead and try.” He swallowed the last of her burger thoughtfully. “Which is why your buddy left with his knickers in a knot, muttering something about how all of us dirty Yanks stick together.” Otis casually picked at a scrap of food caught between his two front teeth. “Be prepared to give a full report to our fearless leader when your shift ends.”