"I'VE GOT SOME bad news, Mischa," Zoe entered the jail cell beneath the Palais de Justice for their nightly visit before Mischa was transferred to some undisclosed location. Zoe held up her iPhone. "Mischaandherfriends.com," she explained. "Of the four of you, you were voted only the third hottest."329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlA1azw6let
Mischa's heart did a brief flutter, the adrenaline shot at the mention of bad news, before she settled into a smile. "How did you vote?" she asked.
"Rihanna won. She was your problem. You split the Caucasian-brunette vote. Lindsay took second and Nicole Richie took last place. The Celtic queen thing must not be in these days."
Mischa laughed, only because her sister was trying to cheer her up and she wanted her to know that she had. But Mischa wasn't thrilled that she was checking out websites like that one. She had hoped to insulate her and Hania as much as possible from what was happening. That, she supposed, was an exercise in futility at this point. By various accounts, there were as many as five websites and six Facebook pages devoted exclusively to the four actresses, the deadly-but-lovely assassins of the French president. At least two books were being written. Last week, on CNN International, Mischa watched Larry King interviewed Tate Donovan, one of her former castmates from The O.C. who said, "Well, Mischa always did have a rebellious streak, but it's hard to imagine that she'd kill a man." Score one for her!
Hania, looking like a young schoolgirl in a white sweater and pleated skirt, was reading from her iPhone as well. A frown covered her face and she didn't respond when Mischa asked her what she was reading. These kids, with their electronic toys. The Internet was all well and good, but Mischa didn't need access to it 24-7.
"Let me see." Mischa took her iPhone to read it. It was a blog from a New York Times reporter Stanley Pucci, who was covering the trial. She knew Pucci because he'd repeatedly tried to interview her. "Mr. Mascarenas's testimony was devastating, in particular to O.C. actress Mischa Barton," he wrote. "With his testimony that she wanted to 'make a sex tape starring Cesar Diderot,' he showed her to be a schemer with a motive, as well as a liar."
Wonderful. Great. But it was hardly the first time Mischa had read something to that effect, and anyway, she didn't want to poison what little time she had with her sisters with this negativity. She put Hania's iPhone down on the bench in the cell and extended her arms. "Enough of this high-tech gadgetry," she said. "Give your sister a hug."
They came together and held each other for a long time. Mischa took in the warmth of her sister's body, the smell of her shampoo, the indescribable feel of a sisterly embrace. These were the truest moments, and also the cruelest. She felt Hania's tears on her own cheek. How fast they could roller-coaster from levity to despair.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTf7SHnmgUf
"This is so unfair, Mischa," Hania managed with a shaky voice.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ31ZbH8qmYI
It wasn't fair, not even close to fair, for these wonderful girls. Mischa could only imagine what it was like for them at the hotel in Salzburg, as they watched television, as they read media accounts such as the Pucci blog, as they lay in their beds at night, visited by their darkest fears. But she couldn't speak without losing all control, and she couldn't do that, she wouldn't do that to them right now. They needed Mischa's strength more than she needed theirs.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf2Exw6mmUK
"We'll figure this out," Mischa whispered, the most she could muster, not knowing if it gave them any comfort.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoRQylRWxhh
Was it true? Was the truth out there somewhere? Some piece of evidence had to materialize, right? Sooner or later the dam had to break, didn't it?329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡikqduVIC4Y
