by Maisie Dean
I watched him carefully. The way his gaze bounced from bunches of wires to metal plates and back again confirmed it. My gamble had paid off. He didn’t know the first thing about car mechanics.
“What do you think it is?” I asked.
“Well, uh, it could be a number of things,” Thomas said. He scratched his head but then seemed to think better of it and crossed his arms tightly. “I’d say it’s got something to do with the… uh, flux capacitor,” he mumbled. “They sometimes detach and… Hey! Why don’t I give you a ride? Leave your keys. Gus, the security guard, is a genius with cars. I bet he can have it ready by tomorrow morning.”
I had to fake a sneeze to cover my laugh. Thomas had totally made a Back to the Future reference with a completely straight face. I wasn’t sure what I was more offended by, that Thomas didn’t think I was intimately familiar with the Back to the Future series, or that he didn’t think I knew anything about cars. To be fair, I’d made the car knowledge assumption about him too, but only one of us had been correct.
I cleared my throat to stop the giggles that were still bubbling up. Rosie would die of laughter when I told her about this. “I’d love a ride, thank you,” I said.
And that was how I found myself gliding past the LA Farmers Market in Thomas’s space-gray Tesla. Thomas was a good, attractive actor but he wasn’t on the same up-and-coming level as Nate. To afford such a sleek car, Thomas must have had money coming from somewhere.
Thomas was chatting about an aspect of next week’s script that was going to be too gruesome with blood and guts when he suddenly switched topics. “Do you want to make a stop? It may sound funny, but I hate missing the sunsets. So often I’m shut in the studio or driving to a new location.”
“Sure, I’m not much of a fan of being stuck inside all day either.”
“Excellent,” he said. He took the next right and then a left. Rows and rows of white lamp-post-looking poles came into view.
“LACMA. Nice choice,” I said. The Los Angeles County Museum of Art was one local attraction I’d never gotten tired of.
“Glad you approve,” Thomas smiled. “I think the museum part closes soon, but I like hanging out in the courtyard area.”
Once we’d found a parking spot, Thomas and I walked around the pavilion. The collection of lampposts shone brightly against the sky’s slowly fading hues. The usual stark white color of the lampposts was tinged with a soft pink. It was very picturesque, with the palm trees in the background.
I enjoyed the leisurely stroll and easy conversation, but my window of opportunity was closing. Soon the sun would set, and Thomas would drive me home. I had to get some answers for my client while I had the chance.
“What’s it like for you working on this show so far? Do you enjoy having Nate as a co-star?”
Thomas walked a few more paces before turning on his heel to look at me. There was a concerned wrinkle in his forehead.
“To tell you the truth, something’s felt off between us. He’s been acting strange ever since…” Thomas shifted his gaze to the ground.
“Ever since…?” I repeated gently.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to swear not to tell anyone, okay?” he said. His voice sounded serious but his face suddenly looked years younger.
I waited patiently for Thomas to expose his secret. This could be the big break in the case.
It may have been the same pink tinge reflecting off of Thomas’s skin, but his cheeks had become rosy. “He found me in his trailer last week. I needed to use a bathroom in a hurry. I thought I had IBS, but now the doctor thinks it’s a dairy allergy. His trailer was right there, and I thought he was on set, so I let myself in. When I came back out, I ran into him. I was embarrassed, so I came up with some lame excuse he clearly didn’t buy.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, he’s been acting weird around me ever since.
Thomas sounded sincere, and the way he stuffed his hands into his pockets felt like an authentic display of uneasiness and embarrassment over coming clean about his health issues. He was a likable actor, at least from what I’d seen of him earlier that day, but I wasn’t convinced he had the acting skills to successfully lie about this scenario.
The tightness in my shoulders eased. I liked Thomas. It was entirely reasonable that Nate’s suspicions about his co-star were due to a simple misunderstanding. Part of me was already eager to make things clear so the two of them could get back to being buddies.
“Really? That’s it?” I said. “If you gave him the gist of what happened last week, I bet he’d completely understand.”
Thomas wrapped a hand around one of the lampposts and slowly swung his body around it. The way his cheeks tensed made me think there was still something he hadn’t told me.
“That’s not everything. There’s something else.” He paused his navigation around the post and looked at me. “I can’t discuss it on an empty stomach. What do you say we grab a bite somewhere?”
I scanned Thomas’s face for signs of mischief or lies, but besides the piece of information he had yet to share, his face was open and kind. His raised eyebrows held up the invite in the warm air between us. I hadn’t yet gotten to the bottom of things between Thomas and Nate yet, and I happened to be starving too.
“Why not? Let’s do it. But nothing with dairy,” I smiled.
Thomas rolled his eyes and groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have shared my darkest secrets with you,” he said. But his tone was light and playful. We headed across the pavilion back to the car.
As we walked, my mind turned our conversation over and over like a stone. If the darkest secret Thomas had was his digestive difficulty with dairy products, he had nothing on me.
CHAPTER 5
Thomas told me dinner was my pick, so I led us a few blocks west to the hole in the wall version of Diablo City. Ever since their food truck had opened about a year ago, their popularity had grown to epic proportions. Out of necessity, the brothers who’d started the business had opened a small shop front to manage some of the craze. Apparently, according to my taco-loving boss, Lucky, opening a full restaurant or a fleet of trucks would have put a damper on their trendiness. So they had remained small, continuing to announce their food truck location each evening over social media.
There wasn’t an indoor sitting area at their permanent location, just a few rows of black-and-red-painted picnic benches beside the small order window. The line took some time, but I assured Thomas it was worth it. Once he’d scrunched up the checkered paper that had been wrapped around his burrito, and licked all the salsa verde off his fingers, he wholeheartedly agreed.
“That was incredible! We need to get these guys to come to set one of these days. Do you think they would?” Thomas asked enthusiastically.
I laughed. “I bet booking them would be harder than booking a decent wedding venue in this city.”
“Hold on,” he said. Thomas climbed off the bench and went to the order window. He charmed his way back to the front of the line. He gestured emphatically to the guy with the lip piercing in the window, then let out his booming laugh. The two girls he’d budged in front of giggled and whispered to each other.
Thomas returned, sitting down across from me with an ear to ear grin.
“‘Phantom Hunters’ will be eating this legendary food on the first Wednesday next month,” Thomas announced.
“Seriously? Did you have to sell your soul?”
Thomas shrugged. “I have to do a promotional post on my social media, so yes.”
“Here, let me do the post,” I said, taking his phone.
Thomas lifted the empty basket and made a face like he’d just devoured its contents, which was the truth.
He was insanely photogenic, even on a phone camera. I only had to take two photos. Either one would be publishable.
“Thanks, Kacey,” he said.
We were coming up with a caption when the two girls from the line approached our picnic table and interrupted.
“E
xcuse me, Thomas?” one of them said. It was the one with long brown hair and a tank top with tassels on the bottom. The other was blonde and wore a kimono-style jacket with a Southwestern pattern on it, and they both were heavily made up. “Could we get a picture with you?” the brunette asked shyly. Her gaze flicked over to me and I could tell she felt confusion and judgment around what I was doing out with Thomas. I wasn’t really sure myself.
“No problem,” Thomas said. There was too much excitement and pride in his voice for him to pass as an A-list star. At the moment, he was only B-list talent and probably didn’t get recognized often.
The blonde girl took out her phone and moved toward me. I thought she was going to ask me to be in the photo.
“I’d rather not be in it,” I said, acting demure. If I was in a photo with Thomas it could blow my cover and ruin the case.
“I was wondering if you could take our picture,” the blonde girl said.
Duh, Kacey. No one wants your photo anyway.
I quickly snapped a couple photos of the broad-shouldered Thomas with his arms around his two fans.
When the girls were finally called away by their order being ready, I picked up my purse off the bench.
“I guess we’d better go before the paparazzi arrive,” I said jokingly.
Thomas, however, didn’t seem to get the joke. He looked over his shoulder and pulled on a baseball cap that had been tucked in the large pocket of his jean jacket.
“You’re probably right, let’s go,” he replied.
* * *
Back in the car, it wasn’t until our conversation lapsed and an awkward pause arose that I remembered we still hadn’t discussed the bit of information Thomas had withheld when we were at the museum. Thomas’s explanation for being in Nate’s trailer seemed simple and believable, but Thomas had hinted there was more to tell.
Conveniently, I didn’t have to force the subject. Thomas brought it up on his own.
“This whole thing with Nate has been weighing on me,” he said. “You see, I’m not stupid. I know that my window of opportunity to make it in the industry is small and closing fast. It’s also attached to Nate’s success.”
Nate’s success? Did Thomas feel like he needed to take the spotlight?
“How so? Is your success attached to Nate’s, I mean,” I said gently.
Thomas took a hand and gestured as if his point should have already been apparent. “Our faces and voices are perfect together. We’ve got that buddy chemistry down—well, when we’re getting along at least. That kind of connection with another actor doesn’t come around that often.”
Thomas’s brows had creased, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter than before.
“I love the guy,” Thomas continued. “Platonically, of course. I believe Nate and I are acting soul mates. In fact, I’d do anything to protect Nate.”
Thomas suddenly changed lanes and I instinctively grabbed hold of the armrest. Something about Thomas’s tone had changed. It was as if all the warmth and charm had drained away. I had a gut feeling that I should send Rosie a text telling her I’d be home soon. She was such an anxious person. If I didn’t make it home soon, due to Thomas kidnapping me, she’d call the Booker brothers. There was no need for me to bother my bosses before things actually got hairy. I had nearly completed my text when Thomas distracted me.
“Put that phone away,” he snapped.
I turned my phone over in my lap, but I didn’t put it away. Staring at Thomas’s now hardened face, I waited until he spoke.
“The string of complaints you were spouting today, those were out of line. Sometimes Pas have to do things they don’t like.”
I struggled to stay quiet. I yearned to set the record straight, to explain that I hadn’t meant what I said, but such was the life of an undercover investigator. My acting couldn’t stop when the cameras went away.
To my surprise, Thomas still hadn’t finished. His sincerity and sudden hostility gave me goose bumps.
“You better not have any more complaints or gossip about Nate, or I’ll make sure you will never be able to get another job in this town again,” he said.
I was speechless. But it was probably for the best. Thomas promptly turned on the radio to drown out the new silent void between us. It was Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5. There wasn’t much that was conventional about my job, but Dolly was still right—it was enough to drive you crazy if you let it.
***
It wasn’t until we pulled through the gates beneath the large archway of the studio lot that I realized Thomas had never asked me for my address. With a lurch, he stopped his Tesla next to my Prius in the now bare parking lot.
“I take it you can get home from here,” Thomas said coldly. He kept his head facing forwards and flexed his hands against the steering wheel.
I took a shaky breath. “But my–”
“I know your car is working just fine. I had my PA check it.” Thomas gave me an icy stare. “I expect you to be a perfectly professional PA for Nate from here on out. Do we understand each other?”
I quickly popped my door handle and slid off the smooth, wide seat. I didn’t want Thomas to see the way my cheeks were burning. “Got it,” I said, putting on my strongest voice.
“Good. Consider yourself warned,” Thomas said. Once I’d shut my door, he sped off through the parking lot.
Thomas’s threats sent a shiver down my spine. Even if they did sound like lines from “Phantom Hunters.” Earlier that evening the breeze had been refreshing after a warm day, but now I felt a chill come over me that I couldn’t shake. I wiggled my shoulders and ran my hands through my hair, doing my best to shake the creepy feeling coursing through me. Nate had been the one who instructed me to lie and complain about him. I was acting. And yet...I couldn’t help but feel that whatever consequences Thomas might see fit to punish me with if I disobeyed his warning would be very real.
I retrieved my keys from the top of my tire, which was where Thomas had suggested I leave them and got into my car. When I turned the key, the engine roared to life. At least Thomas’s PA had been kind enough to fix my fake motor troubles. I drove home on autopilot. My brain’s version, that is, not like a Tesla. The latter portion of my evening with Thomas had unsettled me to the point where my whole body felt chilled. It struck me that the stories being created—whether they were Nate’s fabrications, my cover as a whiny PA, or whatever Thomas now believed about me—were powerful. Powerful enough that even I was beginning to believe them.
CHAPTER 6
When I arrived home, I found Rosie scavenging for candy in our cramped kitchen wearing pajama shorts, a tank top, and her platinum hair in a messy bun. From her perch on the counter, she gawked in horror while clutching an ice cream carton and devouring its contents one heaping spoonful at a time.
“No way! Are you serious? It sounds like you’re in a TV show yourself. What’s he going to do if Nate tells you to keep going with the complaints? He could make you disappear!” Rosie exclaimed, wide-eyed.
I laughed. I had been the aspiring actor for much of our friendship, but Rosie was the dramatic one.
“I’m not going to disappear. I’m sure that’s not what Thomas meant, and besides, Nate wouldn’t let it go that far. Neither would I,” I assured her.
“Good. Because with the rent increase this year, I don’t think I could afford this place on my own.”
“I see how it is,” I said, giving her a punch in the arm. “Thanks for being so concerned about my safety.” I rolled my eyes and loaded up my own spoon with chocolate chip cookie-dough ice cream.
Rosie relinquished the carton to me and stared blankly at the fridge. She was probably lost in some anxiety-provoking plot in which I was the star.
“He’s not even that big of a deal in Hollywood yet. It’ll be fine,” I told the zoned-out Rosie.
She nodded. “Still, this Thomas guy sounds…” Suddenly Rosie gasped and hopped off the counter where she’d been sitting. “Wait… are we talk
ing about Thomas Crosswell?” Rosie asked.
“That’s the one,” I said and watched as Rosie’s eyes bugged out even further.
Normally I kept the details of my investigative work private as much of it was confidential. In some cases, however, when I could potentially be putting myself in danger, I would tell Rosie some details. She was sworn to secrecy unless I did, say, disappear.
“Kacey, I really think you need to get yourself off this case. Clearly, Thomas must be the mole. Why else would he get so weird? He must be a massive manipulator,” Rosie said. She kept wringing her hands. I shoved the ice cream carton between her hands to get her to stop the anxious gesture before she succeeded in making me as paranoid as she was.
“Slow down,” I said. “Thomas was just being protective today. If he really was the mole or hoping to bring Nate down, he wouldn’t have reamed me out the way he did. It was a bit harsh, I’ll admit, but I’m positive he was genuinely concerned about Nate. I bet you and I would have done the same thing if someone was talking smack about one of us, right?” I smiled encouragingly, hoping to melt away some of the tightness between Rosie’s brows.
Absentmindedly, I massaged the back of my neck. I was still feeling the aftereffects of how tense and stressful things had become in Thomas’s car. “I was kind of scared of him at certain points tonight. But I’m not going to quit after only one day. It was me who was deceptive enough to get on his shit list,” I said.
Other than the pain in my neck, I was feeling good about my first day of the case. I’d eliminated one suspect already. The next day, I’d ask Nate for the other name on his suspect list. I could wrap up the case in two days! That would be a new record, and possibly worth a bonus.
I just had to avoid Thomas. Rosie wasn’t wrong to caution me about the guy. He did seem volatile, threatening me the way he had.
Rosie sucked in her breath between her teeth. “All I know is that I saw Thomas in an indie film where he played this brilliant psycho. He was a total maniac, and he nailed the role like it was written for him.”