In Shadow - Ch 18 - Low Friends

Content warning: partial nudity, drug references

Jenny had a plan.

It wasn't a particularly good plan, she admitted to herself. This hero stuff was a lot easier when someone handed her the script and the director gave her notes. 

At least, with the show still on hiatus, she didn't have an early call. She wasn't sure how she'd be able to help Orange and Genie and do sixteen hours on set. She loved being an actress, loved being a success, but it was exhausting sometimes.

Firmly ignoring the bursts of static coming from her old stereo, Jenny headed for the bathroom. She had a lot to face today and just wasn't up to dealing with that. Everything would look better after a shower.

A shower and an omelet. Everything looked better after a shower and an omelet. 

OK, it still wasn't a particularly good plan. No... actually it was a good plan. It just wasn't a comfortable plan. It wasn't a plan that made her happy. It certainly wasn't a plan she wanted to explain in any detail to Orange. He had a protective streak. Yeah, he wasn't pushy. She didn't think he'd tell her what to do, or not do... but still. He wouldn't like the plan. That was kind of... nice actually. He was nice. 

Glancing over at the rattling kitchen cabinets, she bit back the urge to yell. Really, was all the radio static and rattling supposed to help? All it did was remind her about her apartment's other tenant. Yeah, technically she was the only person who lived here... but she wasn't alone.

Wait, she smiled. She wasn't alone!

----------

It had taken more calls than she'd thought, but eventually she tracked down the person she needed to talk to. They arranged a meeting that evening, at the Old Salt House. She certainly wasn't letting him into her apartment. Not again. 

Enter The Creep, stage left.

Five years hadn't changed Terry Stone much. He still wore loud shirts and tinted glasses. He still had that dumb mustache and that same bad toupee. Even the knot twisting in her stomach at the sight of him was familiar. 

Terry Stone. 

He was one of those guys who lurked on the fringes of the Del Sol Valley studios, offering "opportunities" to young actresses. Five years ago, he'd done that for a naive kid then called Jennifer Parker from Rangerville, and little Jennifer Parker been thrilled at any chance to break into the industry.

Terry had helped Jennifer Parker start down the road to become Jenny Poole. He'd encouraged her. He'd introduced her to some of the right people.

Of course, he'd also "helped" her to "relax" and prepare for her early gigs. Some things, she'd discovered, were easier to agree to, easier to do, when you were high.

It could have been a lot worse, Jenny thought.

Sure, he was a sleazy creep, but Terry wasn't mean or cruel. He never hurt her, or even threatened her. Sure, he gave her drugs, but not really hard drugs. OK, those early "screen tests" for Terry weren't exactly what she'd imagined herself doing when she left her dusty little town out west, but even they could have been a whole lot worse.

In the end, he really had helped her break into the industry. He'd helped her get the Salty Suds ad campaign, which had started everything for her.

"Jenny Poole." Terry greeted her warmly, but his eyes looked shifty. "What brings a big star like you down from the heavens?"

"Hey Terry," Jenny said with equally false warmth. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Now, Jenny, you remember you signed releases," Terry said hastily. "I had every right to sell those pictures to WickedHub."

"Hell, Terry, is that what you're worried about?" Jenny rolled her eyes. 

"Well, some big time actresses don't properly appreciate being reminded of their early work," Terry said.

"You're a slimeball, Terry," Jenny said. "But, as it happens, I actually do like those pictures... and it's not like you're the only guy with nudes of me. Come, sit. I've got something else I wanna talk about."

As Terry took the seat across the table from her, Jenny felt her stomach unclench. It was like realizing that she really understood a part, that she could really nail a scene. Only the part was her actual life, and the scene was real.

"So, what can this slimeball do for a big time actress like Jenny Poole?" Terry said brightly. 

He really didn't seem to mind being called a slimeball. Terry knew who and what he was. He had his place in the industry hierarchy, Jenny realized, and he embraced it. 

"I'm looking for somebody," Jenny said. "I'm hoping you can arrange a meeting."

"I might be able to help," Terry said. "I've got some new talent."

"Not new talent. Not today," Jenny said, but filed the thought away. Cassie Goth had once helped to lift her out of Terry's world. Maybe she could do the same thing for someone. It was an idea to be pursued, when she had a chance. 

"I'm looking for George T," Jenny added.

"Oh Jenny," Terry sighed. "I thought you did the rehab thing. Got clean."

"Don't worry about that," Jenny said confidently. "You know him. I know you know him."

"I know him," Terry sighed. "But Jenny, if you're looking for a fix, I've got other sources. Safer sources."

"I need to meet with George T," Jenny said firmly. "I need you to set it up."

"Jenny, I know you did a little partying with these gangsters a couple of years ago," Terry said. "I keep track of my girls, even after they move on."

"So you can resell our old nudes when we hit it big," Jenny snorted.

"You wound me," Terry grinned. 

"But Jenny, listen to me," Terry continued. "Guys like George T aren't safe to be around at the best of times, but what I hear is, since Nick Alto went inside, that world has gotten a lot more dangerous. There's a lot of bad stuff going on. The old guard, like Nick, had a code. Yeah, they were bad guys, but they had rules. These new gangsters, like George T, are just brutal. You shouldn't be messing with them."

"Can you arrange a meeting or not?" Jenny pressed. 

"Maybe," Terry admitted reluctantly. "What do I say it's about? He's not big on social calls, even from big time actresses."

"He'll meet with me," Jenny said. "Just tell him I want to talk about Max V and old times."

"This isn't a movie, Jenny," Terry warned. "Nobody is going to shout 'cut' if the scene goes wrong and George doesn't put blanks in his gun." 

"Are you worried about me, Terry?" Jenny asked, a little surprised.

"I always worry about my girls," Terry said with what Jenny realized was complete sincerity, or at least as close to it as a guy like Terry could get. In his own twisted way, he really did care. 

"Arrange the meeting," Jenny said firmly.

"OK," Terry sighed. "I'll make a few calls and I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Terry," Jenny smiled. "You're a slimeball, but I knew I could count on you... and don't worry, I can handle myself."

"I hope so, Jenny," Terry smiled. "I'll get it done. Anything for you."

The plan, step one, accomplished, Jenny thought.

She was actually very pleased with herself. She'd been worried about meeting with Terry. Worried about the old memories it would dredge up. It hadn't been that bad.

Terry hadn't really changed... but she had. With the help of good friends and a real mentor, she'd outgrown him. 

"You OK?" An older man's voice interrupted her thoughts. 

"I am," Jenny said with a smile. "Thanks for being there, Bob."

Bob was an older guy, a divorcee who lived down the hall from her. He'd been a friend almost since the day she moved in. She really hadn't felt comfortable asking Orange to back her up. She wasn't really ready for him to know about Terry, or little Jennifer Parker from Rangerville for that matter. She also hadn't felt comfortable meeting Terry alone. 

Bob hadn't hesitated. 

"Anytime," Bob said.

"I really appreciate it," Jenny said as she pulled out her phone. "You mind? I need to make a quick call."

Voicemail. Damn it, has she even turned her ringer back on?

"Genie, I think I've got us a lead."