Page 90 of Show Off

The audience chuckles again, probably knowing that’s tongue-in-cheek. At what point in Hollywood hasn’t it been normal for celebrities to bounce from one bed to the next?

Jamila keeps going.“He was on Maui, filmingJungle Thunder.Now I’m not one to spread rumors, but let’s just say I read the gossip right along with the rest of America when tabloids started buzzing about Rick sleeping with his co-star.”

Even I know Rick Roland played Shirleen Judson’s hot-tempered boss inJungle Thunder. Shirleen sits beside Lana, looking ever-so-slightly green. I miss most of what Jamila reads next because I’m watching Lana. Watching her fingers uncurl from the armrest as she draws a deep and fortifying breath in the last moments of Jamila’s reading.

“For the record, I never knew for sure. But has anyone else noticed one of six Hollywood darlings who looks an awful lot like my late husband?”

The audience gasps and titters. In the front row, two women lean close to whisper. Beside her mother, Lana goes even paler.

“Well now.” Jamila closes her book, then pretends to be wiping sweat from her brow. “Christie doesn’t name names.”

“She doesn’t,” Shirleen says through gritted teeth.

Jamila chuckles like this is all fun girls’ chat. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to piece together who she’s talking about there.”

“No it doesn’t, Jamila.” Lana smiles sweetly with her hand still resting on Shirleen’s arm. “And you know, let me just say it’s refreshing reading my mother’s book and seeing her take the high road. I’m sure you noticed she held off on spilling any tea that wasn’t hers to spill?”

She’s giving Jamila a chance to course correct. To steer the discussion in a slightly less scandalous direction.

Jamila doesn’t bite. “I don’t know about you, honey,” she says as the audience chuckles. “But I’m dying to hear more of what Christie’s hinting at.”

“She’s always been bitter,” Shirleen snaps, and I watch Lana flinch. “She really wanted the part of Leslie.”

“And it sounds likeyouwanted her man.” Jamila laughs like everyone’s in on the joke.

A joke at my girlfriend’s expense.

“It’ll be okay,” Cassidy whispers beside me. “They’re professionals. They’ve navigated worse.”

But I’m not sure they have. Does Cassidy know the truth? Somehow, I doubt it. She thinks it’s all just some baseless Hollywood rumor.

“Now come on, Shirleen,” Jamila coaxes. “It’s been decades sinceJungle Thundercame out. Spill for me, girl.” She leans in close, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. “It’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it?”

An uncomfortable laugh slips out of Shirleen. No words, though. Lana’s mom looks deeply unsettled.

Even Lana seems to be struggling. “Come on, now.” Her lighthearted laugh gives Jamila a chance to ease up. “Let’s not go picking on my mama, okay?” She turns to the crowd with steel in her eyes. I see it behind the smile. “Has anyone noticed how no one ever grills male celebs like this?”

It’s a risky move, one I’m hoping Jamila respects. She’s giving Jamila a chance to come down on the side of fighting Hollywood patriarchy. To make allies not just of the Judsons, but all women.

But ratings must call louder, or maybe that’s Jamila’s producer. He’s on the other side of the stage, signaling something to his host.Keep pushing,he mouths. Then he holds up a thick sheaf of papers.

Ratings? Fan mail? It might be his lunch order.

Whatever it is puts a clench in Jamila’s jaw. As her gaze locks back on Shirleen, she sits up straighter. “I think I’m gonna go with what our audience wants on this one.” She turns to the crowd and waves like she’s on a parade float. “How about it, friends? Do we want to hear more?”

At the edge of the stage, I watch the teleprompter blink.

Applause!

They obey the command, a cheerful ocean of clapping. Of hyaenas howling for strangers’ secrets. My hands ball in fists at my side.

“Steady,” Cassidy murmurs. I’m not sure if she means me or Shirleen.

But Jamila just laughs and turns back to the awkward mother/daughter duo. “You heard it, girls. It looks like our friends want a little more detail.” She leans in again, still trying to play the “we’re all friends here” card. “Give us something, Shirleen. Anything. Maybe just?—”

“She’s a jealous bitch.” Fire sparks to life in Shirleen’s eyes. “Maybe if she’d bothered to?—”

“—to fact-check her story,” Lana interrupts, digging her nails into Shirleen’s arm, “she’d know that Mom filmedJungle Thunderin Bermuda and not Maui. And it was the yearafterChristie described in her story.” She turns to the audience, open and smiling and perfectly poised. “So I think we can all agree Ms. Chaplin has a shaky grasp on the truth.”

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