supplies), and waited to see what would happen. Jake had thought far enough ahead to bring a cool little bug zapper device that the gadget-happy Mathilda had sent him, and he set it on the console between the two front seats. The fresh air with its pleasant breeze was great, but the rabid mosquitos were not.
“So…why’re we doing this again?” Baxter asked as he lifted the beer to his mouth. He was a good-looking guy of about thirty with a neatly trimmed mustache, goatee, and a tight-cropped Afro. He was almost always dressed like he was going to a dinner club in neat button-downs tucked into creased chinos or dressy jeans.
“Ah,” Jake began, then figured he owed it to Baxter to spill some of the details. “Well, Vivien and I used to date about eleven years ago when we were both at NYU. So I kind of know her, since we had a thing.”
“A thing.”
“Yeah.”
“Seems like one of you still might have a thing,” Baxter said, grinning around the mouth of the brown longneck then taking another sip.
Jake scoffed, but neither confirmed nor denied it. He guessed it was pretty obvious anyway, since he was spending his Thursday night sitting in a dark parking lot watching over an empty building. All in the name of love.
“I went to high school with Vivien, you know,” Baxter told him. “She was ahead of me by one year. She and Helga van Hest—you know, the blond cop who’s built like an Amazonian goddess?—were tight.”
“You mean the hot blond cop who’s built like an Amazonian goddess? Yes—I’ve met Helga. And she and Vivien are still close.”
“Right. Anyway, I didn’t know Vivien at all back then, but I knew who she was, of course. Everyone did.”
“I can imagine,” Jake said.
“Biggest celebrity we ever had in Wicks Hollow—but she just kept to herself. I heard rumors—she had a twin, right?”
Jake nodded. “Yes. Liv—Olivia—was her name. They shared roles in stage plays and musicals because of child labor laws limiting the number of hours young children can work. Being identical, they could swap out whenever necessary. I think they had a song that was kind of a hit too—she didn’t like to talk about it much. I barely got it out of her that they sang together live at the Tonys one year.”
“Her sister died before she moved here.”
“Yes. Car accident. They were supposed to go to a costume fitting, but Vivien was sick, so she stayed home, and Liv and her mother went without her.”
And she never came back, Vivien had said when she told him about it. She was my best friend, my soul mate—and then suddenly I didn’t have a twin or a best friend or a costar anymore.
“Their mother had minor injuries—which eventually helped lead to an addiction to painkillers and alcohol—but Liv died at the scene.”
Baxter made a sound of sympathy and stared out into the darkness, the beer settled, forgotten, between his legs. “She was, what, fifteen? At least, that’s how old Vivien was when she moved here—to get away from the memories, I gather.”
“No, she was ten when Liv died. There was a period of mourning and adjustment after, of course—and lots of press over the tragedy, from what I understand—and then her mother wanted her to keep going with her stage career. Sounded like she pushed Vivien pretty hard for the next few years, and it didn’t work. VL—you know, Vivien Leigh—didn’t want to sing or dance or act without her counterpart. I got the impression she had serious anxiety about going onstage. So it was after that—after she was done with that career—that she and her mother moved here to be near Vivien’s grandmother. I guess her father died when she was really little, so she never knew him.”
“Well, that explains why Vivien never went out for any of the plays or shows here,” Baxter mused aloud. “When we were in high school, I mean. Everyone thought it was weird that a big-name actress didn’t want to hog the stage—but she didn’t. Not even in the chorus or bit roles. Melody Carlson claimed it was because Vivien was too stuck-up— That was her term, dude; I don’t think I’ve ever used that phrase before,” he added when Jake snorted. “Anyway, Melody Carlson—who was always the lead in all of the shows and had all the big choir solos—said Vivien wouldn’t try out because she thought she was too important to be in a pitiful high school or community