The Phantom of Oz Read online

  Chapter 30

  A Sort of Witchcraft Behind It

  I left Logan and headed back to my dressing room so I could call Uncle Bob in private, but was stopped by a noise coming from down the hallway. Chanting?

  I crept closer to the sound, which emanated from the wardrobe room. I peeked around the open door. Eden stood with her back to me, stirring something over a steaming vat. She was chanting under her breath. And she was naked.

  Well, not quite naked. Her bottom half was covered by a pair of tie-dyed underwear, and green and blue dye snaked down her arms and chest, almost like body paint. But she was naked enough that any normal person would have quietly excused themselves from the room. Any PI would have hidden and watched. Me, I just said, “Afllooey!” Guess my afternoon cold reprieve was over.

  “Hi, Ivy.” Eden didn’t turn to look at me, her focus on the metal washtub on the counter in front of her. “What’s up?”

  “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” I watched Eden stir whatever was in the pot. She had the widest hips I’d ever seen, but she wasn’t fat, no rolls or wobbles, just shaped like a Hershey’s kiss.

  Eden laughed, a musical sound. “I’m not a witch at all. I’m not even Wiccan. I worship the Goddess. Some people get that mixed up with witches.”

  “Yeah, Arrestadt said something about that.”

  “He did?” She looked over her shoulder at me.

  “But I was actually referring to the fact that you’re naked and chanting over a steaming pot of...” I peered inside the tub. “Underwear?”

  “Yeah. I’m tie-dying them for some of the kids.”

  “Cool. That explains that bubbling pot. But...are you hot and...I don’t know, memorizing poetry?”

  “No.” Eden turned and faced me. She had large, slightly drooping breasts and a rounded belly, like you see on the best belly dancers. All in all, her figure put me in mind of those statues of ancient fertility goddesses.

  Now, you should know that theater people in general are not especially modest. We can’t afford to be. We share dressing rooms, have to change backstage, and perform onstage half-naked. But Eden seemed more comfortable half-dressed than anyone I’d ever known. She stood there in nothing but underpants, smiling at me. “I’m not a witch, but this is a kind of ritual for making magical underwear.”

  “Magical underwear? What does it do? Can I have some?”

  Eden laughed again. It was a wonderful laugh. I suddenly wondered if maybe she was a witch, and her laughter was like a siren song or something. Sheesh, Ivy. You have been reading way too many spooky stories.

  “I make it for the kids, but sure, I have a couple extra packs over there.” She pointed to another counter, where several packages of underwear were stacked next to a hot plate with a teakettle on it. “You might fit into the biggest ones.”

  I opened a package of girl’s extra-large white cotton bikinis, and held up a pair. They could fit. I brought them over to Eden.

  “You ever tie-dyed?” She stirred the clothes in the vat with what looked like a broom handle.

  “A long time ago at camp.”

  “Just bunch it up using the little rubber bands on the counter next to the underwear. Concentric circles are nice, or tiny little starbursts.”

  “Okay.” I started work on my magic underwear. I knew I should do more sleuthing, but I felt like my brainpower had been completely sucked away by rehearsal and the incident at the spring (and probably my cold—my nose was definitely starting to run again). Besides, this was fun.

  “As you’re creating your design, you have to make the magic. Say out loud, ‘Beauty within me, beauty around me...’”

  “Beauty within me, beauty around me...” I repeated, twisting small rubber bands around the cotton cloth in my hands.

  “Beauty in my panties.”

  “In my panties?”

  “Yep. This is a spell passed down to me from my aunties.”

  I almost pointed out that panties and aunties rhymed, but I didn’t want to interrupt.

  “That’s how you make your pair of underwear magic. You have to say it every time you put them on too.”

  “Beauty within me, beauty around me, beauty in my panties,” I said.

  “It’s a reminder that we are beautiful individuals, created just as the Goddess would have us. It’s a reminder these kids need, that we all need. Especially working in the entertainment industry, which encourages such a plastic, unhealthy look.”

  “I know, right? If I see one more too-skinny woman—”

  “Ivy,” Eden interrupted me, kindly but firmly. “Body positivity is for skinny women too. It’s not just about curvy girls like me. It’s about loving our bodies as the wonderful vehicles they are.”

  My face grew hot. “I didn’t mean to sound judgmental.”

  “It’s okay. The other thing this industry encourages is internalized sexism. You know, the stereotypes are so prevalent that we subconsciously believe they’re true. It can make us overly hard on other women or ourselves.”

  I tried to search my subconscious. I’d always believed myself to be a strong independent woman and an advocate for equality, but...yeah. I could see there was judgment there too. Something to work on. I was trying to figure out my feelings, so I didn’t say anything. But my stomach did. Loudly.

  “Isn’t this dinner break?” said Eden.

  “Yeah, but I don’t really feel like eating. This cold.” I sniffed for emphasis. And because I needed to.

  “There’s a box of Kleenex over there.” Eden used her chin to point to a shelf. “Maybe you can find a better-sounding excuse for skipping dinner over there too.”

  Busted. I grabbed a Kleenex and thought about another excuse. Instead I told the truth. “I wish I could be as comfortable with my body as you are.”

  “You can be. Change what you see, not how you look.”

  “But I have to be concerned about what others see. As an actor, you know.” I wanted to take back the words as soon as I said them. “I mean...of course, you’re an actor too...”

  “Not anymore. I’m just doing these guys a favor.” She stirred the clothes in the vat. “Beauty within me, beauty around me, beauty in my panties...”

  “But you used to be?”

  “Yeah. I started when I was eight, did a few films, even toured like these kids do. Then when I was fourteen, I grew hips.”

  “You couldn’t get cast?”

  “I don’t know. I quit while I was still on top. I already knew girls my age who were getting plastic surgery and I didn’t want any part of that. I come from a long line of Goddess-shaped women on my dad’s side. It’s who I am and I like who I am. I didn’t want anyone telling me I was too fat, or too hippy, or too whatever. I wanted to exult in my beautiful healthy body.”

  Eden stood there, half-naked, avocado-shaped, a good thirty (or more) pounds heavier than today’s ideal beauty, and yet...She was rosy from the steam, her cheeks pink, her cherry red hair curling around the sides of her face, her body glowing. “You are beautiful,” I said. Unfortunately I said it with obvious surprise in my voice. “Oh. Um...”

  She laughed again. “No worries. It’s good to defy expectations, right?” She leaned her broomstick on the edge of the vat and put on a pair of rubber gloves. “That’s what I’m trying to teach the kids.” She picked up a pair of tongs. “It’s not easy to defy the world. I was lucky. My aunties, who are all big sexy women, began teaching me when I was little. Most of these kids don’t have that type of support, so I try to be it for them. Unfortunately, I’m just one voice shouting in the wilderness of social media and advertising and stage mothers.” Eden squeezed the underwear, turquoise-dyed water dripping back into the washtub. “And now...” Eden’s face tightened too, no longer open and lovely. “...that witch is casting her spell—”

  “Wait, there is a witch?”<
br />
  “Spewing her poisonous lies, weaving her Itty Bitty web...”

  “Babette.”

  “She’s dangerous.” She wrenched the last drop of moisture out of the underwear. “It’s bad enough that these kids have to worry about their contracts, but now they’re in competition with each other.”

  “Why do they have to worry about their contracts?”

  “All of the child actors have a clause in their contracts that says they can be dismissed if they grow two inches or gain ten pounds.”

  I stared at her. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “I wish I was. It’s common practice for child actor’s contracts. I’m sure Babette’s Itty Bitty contracts will be as bad if not worse.” Eden began hanging the tie-dyed underwear on a clothesline that stretched across one side of the wardrobe room. “Adolescence is bad enough for most of us—can you imagine it with that sort of added stress?”

  And I didn’t think being a teenager could get worse. “Those poor kids.”

  “I’m putting another batch in while the water’s still hot,” said Eden. “Ready to dye your magic panties?”

  I handed her my bunched-up pair of underwear, and she dropped it into the vat along with a few others.

  “Beauty within me, beauty around me, beauty in my panties...” she chanted. “But you’re not really here to listen to me, or even to score some magic panties, are you? You’re looking for Candace.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I haven’t seen her. Wish I could help.”

  I watched Eden stir, underwear swirling in the blue water, and saw again the white bit of material drifting downward in dark waters. “Have you ever been down to the spring room?”

  “Once.” She shivered. “I didn’t like the energy.”

  “Too creepy?”

  “Too sad.” Eden cocked her head at me. “So you and Candace were friends?”

  “Are friends.”

  “You seem really different from each other.”

  “We are, but I think maybe even more so now. Candy was, well, more like you. She didn’t care what anyone said, and she had this sort of...bounce that made her irresistible. The last time I talked to her, I mean, really talked, she was getting depressed about her chances in the film industry, but she still had that spark.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “You can see it here.” I pulled up the photo of Candy and me in Mexico. “This was just this past August.”

  Eden studied the photo I held in front of her. “She was beautiful, really full of life. It’s sad, what she’s done to herself.”

  “And there’s been a definite personality change. In fact...” I hesitated. I was doing a horrible job of interviewing Eden, spilling way too many of my own secrets, talking to her more as a potential friend than a witness. Oh well, the damage was already done. “I’ve only seen her a few times since she came to Phoenix. I’m really worried about her. She’s...well, do you think it could be drugs?”

  Eden bit her lip as she stirred, thinking. “Could be. On the other hand, it could be a sickness of the soul. LA can do that to you.”

  “Yeah.” The thought of a sick soul led me back to the real witch we were dealing with. “You said you thought Babette was dangerous to the kids. Do you think she could be dangerous to Candy too?”

  “No question. Babette has some strange aura that persuades people she’s important and should be listened to.”

  I nodded. I’d felt it too.

  “And I think Candace is walking on the edge of health and sanity right now.” Eden flushed, with heat or maybe anger. “Let’s just hope Babette doesn’t push her too far.”

  Chapter 31

  It Might Be Very Dangerous to Everyone’s Health

  “Affleeechhh!” I said to Eden as we walked upstairs to rehearsal. “Sorry. What I meant to say was...Kaffflooey!” I pulled a Kleenex out of my pocket. I’d stuffed about half a box in there.

  “Want a zinc lozenge?” Eden asked.

  I nodded. I was afraid to open my mouth in case I sneezed again. Boy, this was going to be a fun rehearsal. Eden reached into her crossbody bag and pulled out a tin. I nearly took a lozenge when I remembered I was investigating a disappearance and a bunch of accidents. A disappearance and accidents that may have been caused by someone. “Changed my mind.” I spoke quickly to get ahead of the pressure building up in my nose. “My stomach feels funny.”

  “Probably because you didn’t eat dinner.” There was a reprimand in Eden’s voice. “Haven’t you heard you’re supposed to feed a cold?”

  “I’ll have some soup when I get home.” I pushed open the door to backstage and held it open for Eden. The Tin Man, Scarecrow, and Cowardly Lion stood in a clump in the wings, twittering excitedly. “Ooh, Eden will eat this up,” said the Tin Man.

  “With a spoon.” The Cowardly Lion made a lascivious motion with his tongue.

  “What has you boys so hot and bothered?” asked Eden.

  “There’s going to be a big party here Saturday night,” said the Scarecrow.

  “Not just a party, a costume party,” said the Lion. “A masquerade.”

  “And some sort of show too,” said the Tin Man, “with magicians and burlesque performers and—”

  “Aerial dancers,” I said. “I’m one of them. Huh-uh-ah-achoo!”

  “You’re going to be in the Erotic Art Phantasmagorical Spectacular?” said the Scarecrow.

  “Exotic.” I blew my nose. “It’s the exotic art festival.”

  Phoenix was host to the nation’s longest running exotic art show, presented annually by the Alwun House, a funky-cool art gallery in an old house and garden.

  “Erotic,” said the scarecrow. “I’m sure I heard erotic.”

  To be fair, a lot of people called the festival “The Erotic Art Festival,” or sometimes the “Erotic Exotic Art Festival,” probably because most of the visual art (and some of the performance art) was sensual if not outright sexual, and often featured body parts you didn’t usually see immortalized on canvas. The Phantasmagorical Spectacular was held on a Saturday night around Valentine’s Day, and usually took place at the Alwun House. This year they’d somehow scored the Grand Phoenician for their venue.

  “There’s going to be a party here on Saturday?” asked Eden. “What about our show?”

  “The Spectacular doesn’t start until midnight,” I said.

  “So you really are in the show,” the Scarecrow said.

  “I’m an aerial dancer.” I’d learned how to use the aerial silks during a cruise ship gig last summer and had started taking classes again at the beginning of the year. I wasn’t great, but I wasn’t bad, and I didn’t charge anything except a ticket to the party.

  “Are you performing naked or something?” asked the Tin Man.

  “No. I’m the exotic part of the show. Kafleccchhh!”

  “Thank God,” the Lion said under his breath.

  “I heard that.” I tossed my Kleenex into a trashcan pushed up against the wall.

  “Anyway, we’re all getting tickets,” the Scarecrow said to Eden. “Want to join us?”

  “And watch Ivy aerial dance in the nude?” added the Tin Man.

  “Exotic,” I reminded them.

  “Maybe,” Eden said. “Not sure I’m free. I need to check on something.”

  “Oooh, is there a man involved?” asked the Lion.

  “Has your heart finally healed?” said the Tin Man.

  Eden threw him a warning look. “Just asking,” he said. “After the way that man—”

  “Eden!” Madison appeared from nowhere and barreled into Eden’s arms. “It’s awful. I hate her. I hate her!”

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Eden stroked Madison’s hair. “Was someone mean to you?”

  “It’s worse. Babette is having a party and my mom is going to go.”
r />   “Oh, sweetheart, I know you don’t like Babette, but maybe your mom—”

  “She’s having a Botox party. Botox. Do you know what that is? It’s poison. My mom is going to get poison injected into her face at some stupid party and I heard it’s not even poison made here, it’s from Mexico because it’s cheaper and the doctor is from Mexico too and who even knows if he’s a real doctor and I know she’s doing all of this for me when I don’t want her to and—” Madison burst into tears.

  “It’ll be okay.” The Tin Man patted Madison’s slight shoulders, which shook with swallowed sobs. “I’m sure it’s safe.”

  “Safe for the body, but not the soul,” said Eden. She pulled Madison away from her, so she could look her in the face. “I think it’s time to destroy Babette’s beautiful wickedness.”

  “You’re going to melt her?” asked the Lion.

  “Tried that at the reception,” I said. “Didn’t work.”

  “You don’t mean kill—” said Madison.

  “No. Just crash the Botox party. These people need an intervention.” Eden looked at our little group. “Who’s in?”

  Chapter 32

  A Terrible State of Consternation

  When I finally got home that night, I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I may have been investigating Candy, but I was unearthing few of my own personal demons too. “Do you think I judge women?” I asked Matt on the phone.

  “What do you mean?” He sounded cautious. Wise man.

  “Do you think I...” I was too tired to put the sentence together. “I mean internalized sexism.”

  “Oh.” Matt sounded relieved. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “What?”

  “I think we all have to fight against it. Our culture has particular ideals that are drummed into our heads. And I suspect that it’s even tougher for actors to ignore. Are you worried about being too hard on Candy?”

  “And others.” I thought about the way I’d judged Desirée’s looks. That thought led me to Botox and...“I wonder if I’m being too hard on Babette.”