Positive Press

RED BLOOD WHITE DOVE

Prologue

“For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come…”

-William Shakespeare

At one of the nicer penthouses of The Dakota apartments on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, hauntingly beautiful screen legend Rita Grimes Monteith slipped into her steamy bath. It was a plethora of liquid and dry comforts: hot water from jets in the spa tub, accompanied by a snifter of warm brandy, with a pack of unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes at the ready.

The actress was attractive and petite; she stood 5′ 3, with stunning hazel eyes and a head of lush auburn hair, and while she was currently wearing it in a bob for her latest film shoot, her coiffure was normally long and silky. She wore heels on screen to accentuate her height.

Rita had dropped the “Grimes”, on becoming an actress, as Rita Monteith was simpler and more marketable than her full given name. Nobody knew her middle name was Grimes; no one save perhaps for some creeps who trolled the world wide web… web of sin, more like it. Rita hated the internet.

The femme fatale had ironically wanted to be a wholesome role model in the cinema, while some actresses would have died for the gritty roles Ms. Monteith regularly garnered. When younger, Rita had reluctantly acted in a particular R-rated movie that launched her career sky-high, but with the wrong trajectory. Sure, it was all acting, but the casting couch downfall she narrowly avoided led ironically to an onscreen persona she hated. Thanks to the internet, certain scenes from that movie would never go away.

The casting director had tried to seduce Rita, but she resisted his advances. He was unhappy with her and knowing that she wanted this film to launch her career, he told her she would have to perform a nude scene in the movie if she wanted to succeed. That was his way of exacting revenge for her refusing to sleep with him. He knew she would hate doing that kind of scene.

The moisture from the tub rose up to the height of twenty foot ceilings, causing the triple crown moldings to glisten in the soft incandescence of the room.

Rita had dimmed the lights and put on soft jazz music. She always did this when trying to relax. The recordings, like Miles Davis’s Sketches of Spain, were complex enough to distract her, but mellow enough to engender a calm atmosphere. She’d recently received a grim diagnosis, and her career was fading with her looks.

Rita was not an Oscar-level contender. Her roles were good, but not complex, so even if she defeated the cancer, she might lose the box office.

She was an aging beauty, not a theatrical genius like Meryl Streep. Breast cancer was not necessarily accompanied by a death sentence in this day and age, but facial and neck wrinkles with age spots could be. She’d seen too many older actresses experience major fails with Botox and plastic surgery; she was terrified of that occurring to her.

Rita did have some things going for her. Her fans really loved her because she was… well there was something special about her and her fans could tell. She was no great artiste, but you could tell she was genuine, even when on screen; people just knew it. Her directors knew it, her friends knew it, and so did her ex brother-in-law Spiegelman.

Spiegelman would have made a much better husband for Rita than the man she had ended up marrying, and ending up with Jonathan Spiegelman might have actually come to pass if stupid circumstances hadn’t kept getting in the way. Spiegelman would never have been forward with her without her wanting it, but she loved him, and he loved her. There was just so much hurt between her and his brother that it was going to take time to heal. Was she going to have that time?

While the water washed over her and the brandy soothed her aches, she snuffed out her cigarette. Jets of water from the spa tub caused endorphins to overcome the cortisol of her stress, putting her to sleep. She had no fear of drowning as the tub was specially fitted, but as she drifted off she had a faint uneasiness and began to feel a bit of vertigo, but the brandy took over as she faded out.

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