Charlotte and the Starlet Page 2

  'You don't know what you're talking about, Leila. Your folks had a tough life. Your dad working two-bit rodeos. Your mom doing double shifts on a dude ranch carting around tourists from Peoria right after the all-you-can-eat buffet. When they got their break in Dances With Wolves, even though it was just as a couple of cavalry horses, they seized it. They wanted the best for you. That's why your dad took on all the hardest stunts –'

  'And that's what killed him,' snapped Leila.

  'Exactly. So your mom felt it was all up to her.'

  Leila didn't want to listen to any justification. As far as she was concerned she'd been abandoned. And it still hurt. Not that she would let anyone see that. She didn't want to ever be vulnerable again, and if that meant kicking somebody else before they kicked you, tough luck. She was going to show her mother that she didn't need her. She didn't need anybody. She was the prettiest, richest horse around.

  She tossed her mane.

  'Well, Mom doesn't need to worry about me now. I'm getting paid twice what she is for that dancing horse schtick in Vienna. And I have my own trailer.'

  Feathers got back on course to where this had all started. 'You won't have it for long, the way you're going.'

  Leila didn't believe that for an instant. She understood human language perfectly. Other horses might pick up a smattering here or there but Leila could actually talk human. Not that she'd ever let humans know. She was way too smart for that. If you were dumb enough to let them in on that little secret you'd wind up with electrodes in your head and a thermometer up your butt. So she kept her mouth closed and ears open. She would overhear Tommy the director talking and know exactly what he wanted. Then she'd give it to him ... at a price. She admired her shiny bay coat in the mirror.

  'Butter dipped in fur,' she purred.

  'And the way you're going it'll soon look like lard dipped in vinyl,' Feathers cracked.

  Leila was about to retort when she heard somebody approaching. As the door opened Leila dropped to the floor and made herself look ill.

  Tommy Tempest entered. His face fell.

  'Come on, girl, we need you.'

  He squatted beside her and stroked her muzzle. Leila knew what was required to make him think she was trying to communicate with him. She threw her head around and blew through her nostrils.

  What a ham, thought Feathers, watching the performance from his cage.

  Tommy sighed. 'The vet says there's nothing wrong with you. I tell you, Leila, if I didn't know better, I'd think that you were trying to outdo Sarah-Jane. I know she can be difficult, but she's young and still learning.'

  Oh, she's going to learn a whole lot more before I've finished with her, thought Leila.

  Tommy Tempest stood, pulled out his cell phone and dialled. 'Joel? Tommy.'

  Yes! Leila was pleased. Joel Gold was the producer, Tommy's boss. It was good that things were going to the highest level.

  'Leila's very listless. I can't get her out ... No, the vet says she's fine. He thinks she might be jealous. I mean, if she were an actress I'd just promise her top billing over Sarah-Jane.'

  Whoa! Way to go, Tommy. Leila quickly got to her feet and trotted briskly out of the trailer, leaving Tommy thunderstruck.

  'She just got up, Joel. Sometimes I swear she can understand what we're saying. I'll call you later.'

  Tommy bounced back to the set. Things were looking up.

  Leila quickly made her way to the make-up area and soon she was draped in her specially embroidered pink satin horse blanket, having mascara put on her long lashes by one of the make-up girls. Leila could never remember their names and why did she need to? She was the star. All she had to remember was numero uno. Next to Leila, another make-up artist worked on Sarah-Jane.

  She saw Tommy jump up onto the flatbed of the open truck. A camera was mounted on the back. They were getting ready for the shot. Tommy called over to the make-up girls, 'Okay, standing by,' and suddenly everybody scattered, leaving Leila and Sarah-Jane. Leila felt the freckled brat mount her, but her eyes remained focused on the clapperboard.

  'And ... action!' commanded Tommy.

  The board operator clapped it shut and Sarah-Jane dug her heels into Leila's ribs.

  'Yaaaa,' screamed Sarah-Jane.

  'Aaaaa!' yelped Leila to herself. She hated that. It hurt. And after all, she knew she was supposed to gallop as soon as the board clapped.

  Leila galloped hard towards the low hedge she was meant to jump. She could see one truck shooting in front of her and knew there would be one behind. Good.

  'Move it, Leila,' Sarah-Jane yelled in that irritating high-pitched voice of hers, digging her heels in again.

  I'll move it all right, you freckled freak, thought Leila. As she approached the hedge, she suddenly broke right and charged directly at a big oak tree with heavy, low branches. On her back she could feel Sarah-Jane fighting for control.

  Time for the kid to 'branch' out. Leila drove Sarah-Jane into the lowest branch.

  She heard the impact of Sarah-Jane's helmet on the wood, and felt the sudden weightlessness as she tumbled off. Like the good horse she pretended to be, Leila came to an immediate halt. She turned and smiled, watching Sarah-Jane lying there, moaning. That would teach her to dig her heels in.

  'People say it's hard to lose weight,' Leila tittered to herself. 'Nothing to it.'

  The truck had stopped and Tommy and his crew had jumped out.

  'Did you get the shot of her hitting the branch?' asked Tommy of his cameraman in a careful whisper.

  'You bet,' came the reply.

  Tommy could feel things going his way. That was going to look great on the big screen. And that moment when she hit the branch, that was one of the most satisfying in his whole life. There was justice in the world. He ran for Sarah-Jane, sounding solicitous.

  'Sarah-Jane, are you okay?'

  'No, I'm not okay. That dumb nag just ran right off course.'

  With a degree of satisfaction, Leila looked over at Sarah-Jane shouting and throwing a tantrum. Good, Tommy wouldn't like that. Plenty of other freckle-faced kids waiting in the wings.

  Leila would not have been so happy had she known that, at that moment, watching her from a distance were two men who saw in Leila not a beautiful bay filly but a large bundle of cash. One of the men was big and fat. He didn't wash very often and he rarely shaved so that his face resembled flypaper covered in dead flies. His name was Ralph. Right now, he was eating his third chocolate bar of the day. His friend was skinny with a face like a weasel. This was Bobby.

  'You sure this is gonna work?' asked Bobby. He had known Ralph for a long time and while Ralph always had great ideas for easy money, they usually backfired. Like the time they were going to steal money from a vending machine. Bobby got his hand stuck in the coin slot and they had to get the fire brigade to cut it out. Then the police fined them and they had to pay for a new vending machine as well. But Ralph had no doubts about his new scheme. He tossed down the chocolate wrapper and wiped his sticky fingers on Bobby's shirt.

  'Course this is gonna work. That horse is worth twenty million bucks to Joel Gold. You think he won't pay at least a couple of million to get her back?'

  Bobby didn't answer right then as two paramedics walked past, carrying Sarah-Jane on a stretcher. She was screaming at them. 'Keep it level, you bozos, you're making me nauseous.'

  Tommy Tempest was following his young star. He looked over to Ralph, who he knew as the plumber who supplied the requirements on location. 'You get the shower rigged yet?'

  Ralph nodded. 'Yes, Mr Tempest, all done.'

  When they were alone again Ralph whispered to his confederate. 'Just make sure, no slip-ups.'

  Bobby hated the way Ralph acted as if he was hopeless. 'I told you, I got it all figured out.'

  Chapter 3

  Feathers was dozing on his perch, dreaming of a faroff land where there were other pink and grey birds like him circling in the sky, squawking merrily. A particularly attractive female
cockatoo was giving him the eye and now he was flying up to her, showing off, looping the loop and flying upside down. He could see she was impressed ... then CRACK! Heck, somebody was taking shots at them!

  Feathers woke with a start, momentarily losing his balance. He was forced to flap crazily to regain it. The sound, he realised with relief as he became fully awake, had come from outside the trailer and was not a rifle shot. It had been the sound of a twig snapping. Feathers looked out to see a skinny man sneaking through the woods. One glance told Feathers he was untrustworthy. Beady eyes. Never trust a man with beady eyes and the shadow of a beard ... especially if he's sneaking through the woods.

  This walking through woods was tough going. Bobby much preferred the nice, smooth concrete you got at places like racetracks. Who wanted trees and leaves and ... Yuck! His lip curled as he realised he'd walked right into a spider-web. He clawed it off. It was only the thought of the money that made him carry on. Bobby checked his watch. The tranquilliser he had slipped into the security guard's coffee would have worked by now. He'd be out like a light. Bobby crept forward until he was only twenty metres from Leila's shower. The security guard was passed out. Everything was going to plan ...

  He stopped. What was that? There seemed to be some dreadful out-of-tune singing coming from behind the shower. Was somebody else in with the nag? Oh no, what was he going to do? Ralph was going to kill him. He might kill himself if that horrible racket kept up.

  Luxuriating in the stream of warm water in her purpose-built horse shower, Leila was imagining that she was singing like her favourite singer, Kelly Clarkson. Well, actually, she thought she sang much better than Kelly. Singing came naturally to Leila. Maybe she'd put out an album ... anonymously, of course. Just as she hit the high note, she realised that she was actually singing. Oops! It was the kind of thing that could get a girl out of sequins and into a hospital gown. She clammed up. She'd seen earlier that her security guard had fallen asleep but you couldn't be too careful. Somebody else might come by.

  Leila could stay under that warm water all night but finally the thought of dessert dragged her out. The caterers did a fabulous chocolate mousse and she knew exactly when they arrived each evening – eight minutes from now. She stepped out of the shower and onto her special warm air-blower, which she could operate with her hoof.

  Close by, Bobby said a silent prayer. The horrible screeching had stopped. He parted the bushes and saw the horse step out by itself onto its dryer. Good, whoever had been there must have gone. Time for the next stage of the plan. He reached into his bag, pulled out a warm pizza in a cardboard box and opened the lid. He looked in the direction of Leila's shower.

  'Come on, baby,' he softly urged.

  Her mane flowing in the warm air, Leila imagined her film clip. She'd be galloping along a white beach. The song would be some rubbish about being in love in the summer sun.

  Leila suddenly stopped and her eyes flew open. An aroma had crash-tackled her in the midst of her reverie. Mouth-watering pepperoni pizza. If there was one thing Leila couldn't resist, it was pizza. Especially pepperoni. Her nose told her it was close by. Maybe if one of the crew had it she could nuzzle him and he'd feed her a piece? It usually worked.

  Like the children of Hamelin following the Pied Piper, she left the shower and trotted into the woods, following the scent.

  From his cage in the trailer, Feathers saw Leila disappearing into the woods. He screeched at the top of his voice. 'No, you dumb filly! It's a trap. A trap!' But even as he shouted, he knew it was hopeless. Once Leila got pizza in her brain the only thing that would stop her would be a double-chocolate sundae with nuts. And right now he didn't have a double-chocolate sundae with nuts.

  Leila followed the smell. It seemed tantalisingly close but each time she turned a corner, no pizza. Finally she emerged into a small clearing. Bingo! There was a truck with the back down, forming a convenient walkway to where the pizza lay. She could almost taste it now. She trotted into the truck. Finally! There was the pizza, right in front of her. She was just about to take a bite when ... BANG! Everything went black. For a second she thought somebody must have let off a bomb or something and she was dead, but then she felt the truck move. What was going on? Oh, now she got it, somebody had accidentally shut her in the truck. That was okay, when they stopped they'd let her out. In the meantime, there was nothing like pizza after a warm shower!

  In the front of the truck Bobby was pleased with himself. Some people thought he was dumb but this time he'd proved himself pretty darn smart. Everything had gone one hundred per cent to plan. Of course, Ralph would say it was all his idea and give Bobby none of the credit he deserved.

  The next part of Ralph's plan entailed driving the horse to the deserted soap factory. Bobby wasn't sure this was such a good idea. Let's face it, in every second movie somebody was hiding something illegal in some deserted old factory. If he were a cop, it was the first place he'd look for the horse. He'd tried to tell Ralph but Ralph just bullied him like always. Looking out of the truck window Bobby saw a field filled with horses. He suddenly had a very, very good idea.

  Back at the scene of the crime, the police had been called. The security guard was still fast asleep, resisting all efforts to wake him. Tommy Tempest and his producer, Joel Gold, were tearing their hair out. Actually, Joel Gold didn't have any hair so he was grabbing handfuls of Tommy's hair and pulling that.

  'We're ruined,' he wailed. 'Without Leila, we're ruined.'

  Tommy mentioned gingerly that there were standby horses.

  Joel Gold almost cried. 'Compared to Leila, they're just nags.' His cell phone rang. 'Joel Gold,' he mumbled, sniffing back tears.

  A muffled voice said something.

  'What? I can't hear you,' snapped Mr Gold.

  On the other end of the line, in the cab of a truck littered with trash, Ralph pulled away the handkerchief he'd been using to disguise his voice. 'Listen to me, Mr Gold: we got the horse.'

  The producer turned quickly to Tommy Tempest and whispered, 'It's the nag-nappers.' He spoke into the phone. 'Who are you?'

  'Ra–' Ralph just stopped from giving his name. He saw Bobby smile at him smugly, as if he knew he'd nearly messed up. 'Rabbit. Call me Rabbit.' He gave Bobby a knowing smile, as if to say 'fooled you'. Then he turned back to the phone. 'I want four million.'

  'Done,' said Joel Gold.

  'Really?' Ralph was surprised and delighted as he peeled open another chocolate bar. 'We would have settled for two.'

  'Okay, then,' said Gold. 'Two.'

  Ralph realised he'd put his foot in it but it was too late now. He chomped on the chocolate bar. 'Okay, two it is.' He reached for the note he'd taken all night to write and read it out: 'Leev the monee in unmarked bills in the trash can by the Nantville exat Interstate 106.'

  'How do we know you have Leila?' Joel Gold wasn't a fool.

  'You'll find a slice of pizza with the impression of her teeth in it, outside your trailer.'

  Joel Gold felt queasy. He'd eaten that piece of pizza when he got the news of the nag-napping. It was a sort of nervous response. 'So, where is she now?'

  'In a disused factory,' said Ralph confidently. Then he noticed Bobby waving frantically. 'Hold on a second.'

  Ralph put his hand over the phone and turned to Bobby.

  'What? What's up with you? You want to go to the bathroom?'

  'We need to talk,' hissed Bobby.

  Ralph had a bad feeling.

  'I'll call you back,' he said and hung up on Joel Gold. His eyes bored into Bobby. 'What have you done?'

  Bobby smiled confidently. 'It's okay. Don't worry. I thought of a much better hiding place.'

  Leila did not like the way this had turned out at all. One minute she's eating pizza, the next she's turfed out into this cold paddock. The open air, mind you! At night! Surrounded by all these aggressive low-life horses. The ringleader, this black stallion, a real thug, was crowding her now and the others were starting to close in too. There d
idn't seem to be anywhere to run. Was this some last-minute scene Tommy had come up with?

  Leila put on her foxiest smile, the one she flashed at all the paparazzi during premieres.

  'Hi guys, you looking for autographs or something?'

  They stared at her blankly. Surely this crew knew who she was? Was it conceivable horses wouldn't know the most famous celebrity of their own kind? She tried to move off.

  'Guys, nice meeting you but I gotta get out of here. I got a pedicure booked tomorrow.'

  She tried to squeeze through but they narrowed the gap. The black stallion whinnied loudly in horse language. 'You sound like a two-leg. Speak horse.'

  Leila was nervous. Better do what the guy says. She put on the best throaty, hoarse tone she could muster. 'Okay ... I gotta get out of here, I got a pedicure.'

  The black stallion reared, angry, and whinnied again in horse: 'You think you can mock me? Cut it out, speak horse!'

  Oh, he means horse, not hoarse, she realised.

  It had been so long since Leila had spoken horse. She was nervous. She tried to slip into her best approximation of common horse but only managed a pathetic whinny. The other horses laughed at her. A grey mare was particularly cutting. 'What a bimbo! A two-day-old foal can speak better than that.'

  Another horse, who sounded like he'd spent too much time in the open, taunted, 'Looks like she needs a few lessons. Let's give her a really good one.'

  Now Leila was very scared. The black stallion led them towards her, nudging her with his muzzle, forcing her to back up. Maybe a bit of inner city patois would work? She tried to recall how cool rappers sounded in their movies.

  'Hey, come on, sis, bro! We're all quadrupeds, right? Let's drop the temperature a little. I got a nice Prada feedbag back at my trailer. You guys can have it. Or how about a set of Ferragamo shoes?'