Killer Cocktail Read Online Free Page A

John begins to walk away as well, but then Melanie calls to him.
    MELANIE
    John? Do you have a second? I need to talk to you about something.
    John stops, and turns. His expression is wary.
    JOHN
    I’m not up for any more drama right now, Melanie.
    MELANIE
    Just shut up for a second, will you? This is important.
    JOHN
    Fine. Talk. But make it fast. I’m meeting someone for lunch.
    MELANIE
    Who? Christina?
    JOHN
    Actually, that’s none of your business. Not anymore. Now what do you need to talk to me about?
    MELANIE
    It’s about what happened when we were in Cabo last month.
    JOHN (frowning)
    Okay.
    MELANIE
    Well, there’s something you should know … (Her voice drops and her words are inaudible.)
    John stares at Melanie. His expression grows angry but he says nothing.
    A WOMAN’S VOICE (far off)
    Danielle? Danielle, honey? Where are you? It’s time for lunch.
    DANIELLE
    Coming, Mom!
    The camera swings suddenly sideways, revealing a young woman of about twenty years old standing half in the shadows. She is petite with long auburn hair. It is Christina Franklin. She is staring intently at John and Melanie. The camera swings one more time to the floor and then goes dark.

four
    Almost an hour later, the theater lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to play. Attendee s settled into their seats. Ushers signaled for quiet. Cameramen readied themselves. From above, a disembodied voice called out, “Live from the Dolby Theater, it’s the Oscars! Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your host, Ellen DeGeneres!”
    Wearing a fitted velvet tuxedo, Ellen strode across the stage. With a merry smile she greeted the cheering crowd in the auditorium. “Thank you!” she said. “Thank you very much. Before we get started, I want to say that you should think of yourselves as winners.” She paused. “Not everyone, but all of you that have won before should.”
    The crowd laughed and settled in for the show. An hour later, the lull of the shorts, documentaries, and technical categories had taken its toll. Nigel was slumped low in his seat, his eyes at half-mast. My attempts to rouse him were ignored. When the Oscar for Best Actress was about to be announced, I gave him one last nudge. “Nigel! Wake up!” I hissed.
    Nigel peeled one eye open and asked, “Is it over yet?”
    â€œNo, but they are about to announce Best Actress. Don’t you want to watch?”
    â€œYou watch for me and tell me what happens,” he said, closing his eye again.
    I poked him again. “Why did you bother to come if you don’t even watch?”
    Nigel crossed his arms across his chest, his eyes still closed. “Because, someone told me there was an open bar this year.”
    â€œYou really need to let that go. I said I was sorry.”
    â€œAnd I told you that I’m sleeping. Now, stop talking. You’re interrupting me.”
    I gave up and focused again on the show. Anne Hathaway and Steve Carell were bantering as they read the nominees.
    Among this year’s candidates was Christina Franklin, the actress who ultimately portrayed the lead in A Winter’s Night . Christina won her first Oscar for that role. In her acceptance speech, she called the win a bittersweet one and tearfully dedicated it to Melanie’s memory. In the years after, she won three more Oscars and always spoke fondly of Melanie. Tonight she was up for her role in the movie The Morning Came Early. Her portrayal of a French seamstress trying to help Jews escape a Germany-occupied France during World War II had been universally praised by the critics and was a crowd favorite to win.
    â€œAnd the winner is …” Anne Hathaway paused to open the envelope. After a quick glance, she happily called out, “Christina Franklin!”
    The crowd burst into enthusiastic applause. Even the other nominees appeared genuinely happy for her. I pointed this out to Nigel, but he only kept his