“But they were here for her,” Zane pointed out.
“Only because they happened to be around when Serenity got the email. They’re supposedly the only ones in her social circle who know about it. I advised her to keep it to herself, but there’s no telling how many people will hear about it from them. Anyway, yeah, I guess they thought they should keep an eye on her together or something.” He lifted his shoulders like it meant nothing.
“What about you?” Braxton asked with a grin. “Sorry, not that we think you’re the stalker, but we need to know as much as we can about the people she spends most of her time around.”
“No offense taken. Not really much for me to tell you, though. I live in the valley. I’m with Serenity most days of the week. She’s always got someplace to be. I offered to move in here. Don’t get me wrong,” he snickered when this earned him a pair of knowing looks. “I know how it sounds, but I happen to like my personal space too. And while my apartment isn’t a tenth of the size of this place, it’s mine. I get to unwind at the end of a day of screaming fans and graphers and airheads.”
“Graphers?” Zane asked.
“Autograph seekers, only not the kind you’re thinking of, not people who randomly ask for an autograph and maybe a picture. Even they can be a real pain in the ass, of course, but graphers are worse. They’re normally grown men—some middle-aged—who hunt down autographs to sell online.”
“Get outta here,” Braxton groaned.
“They’re not fans, so they don’t bother even pretending to show respect to the person they’re hounding. And they’ll trample other people just to get to the celebrity they’re chasing. I got into it last week with a guy who practically trampled a fifteen-year-old kid behind a barricade.”
“Jesus.” Zane shuddered in disgust. “Some people.”
“I would’ve loved to… Well, I don’t need to tell you what I would’ve loved to do,” Luke grunted. “Anyway, it’s a lot. When I know she’s in for the night, I go home and do my thing for as long as I can until she needs me again.”
“What about your team? I saw a couple of guys earlier, didn’t I?” Braxton asked. “Where’d they go?”
“They spend the night sitting up outside sometimes when things are especially busy—if she’s having a party or something like that. I called them in last night when she got the email.”
“Good instinct.”
“It’s not like I expected somebody to just show up at the house,” Luke continued, “but it made her feel better to have more bodies looking out for her.”
Yes, and Braxton would’ve bet anything that Luke felt like a hero as a result. And that was what he wanted. It wasn’t easy to look at him through objective eyes since this guy would probably push back on some of the methods Logan’s team swore by.
He was protective—and protectiveness sometimes crossed the line into possessiveness. Only sometimes, and not with everyone, but this guy practically screamed with that potential.
Luke ran a hand over his shaved head with a sigh. “It’s been a long day. It’s good to have professionals here. Maybe she’ll listen to you better than she does to me.”
“Wow,” Braxton smirked. “I never would’ve guessed she has a strong personality.”
“I’m surprised I don’t have bumps all over my head from all the times I’ve banged it into a wall.”
“I have enough to provide padding—I hope,” Braxton chuckled with humor he didn’t feel. Nothing about this situation was particularly funny. Strange how people tended to laugh and make light of things that weren’t funny, maybe as a way of keeping themselves from losing it.
The doorbell rang. Melody popped up from the sofa like a jack-in-the-box and dashed across the room. “That’ll be the stylists,” she called out.
“Wait up.”
She skidded to a stop at the sound of Braxton’s bark. Zane made a strangled sort of noise, a warning sound. He dialed it back for the girl’s sake, trying to smile as he joined her outside the kitchen. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude, but we have to be careful with anybody coming in or out of this place now. You know?”
She nodded, silent, and the pulse in her throat fluttered like she’d just gotten the fright of her life. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Right. Force of habit.”
“Of course.” He smiled more genuinely this time. “I’ll go with you.”
“We don’t want to say anything about this to anyone,” she reminded him as they went to the foyer. “The studio wants to keep things as quiet as possible.”
“I hear you,” he assured her, then nodded to signal for her to open the door. He wished he could frisk these people, but obviously, that would be too much. The studio wouldn’t like that. He rolled his eyes at the very thought.
The only weapon any of them carried was a blow dryer, anyway. He doubted any of the three women who stepped into the house and kissed Melody on each cheek—or, rather, air-kissed her—had a vicious bone in their bodies.
But looks were deceptive. He’d already underestimated Serenity.
It would be smart to remind himself on the regular that in Hollywood what was on the surface was rarely what was underneath.
Chapter Six
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Melody handed over a coconut water. “You need to hydrate.”
“Yeah, she does,” the makeup artist snickered, a girl Serenity vaguely remembered having worked with before. “Those bags under the eyes.”
She ignored it as best she could, accepting the coconut water. She hated it and didn’t understand why people professed to love it so much. They were either deluding themselves or pretending to love it because everybody else pretended to.
Still, she drank it because she was supposed to. “I had sushi for lunch,” she explained like it mattered.
“Soy sauce.” The makeup girl clicked her tongue in disapproval. “That’ll do it to you every time.” There was no point in arguing that she’d used low-sodium. Besides, she’d sound like a child.
This sort of thing didn’t usually get her down—being criticized, critiqued, told her choices were the wrong choices. It had taken time for her to get used to policing every single bite that went into her mouth—she’d arrived at UCLA a size four, and even that hadn’t been skinny enough to gain the interest of the theatre department’s directors.
Look at her now. She wished they could. Sitting in the house she owned free and clear, having her hair and makeup done before attending a convention where bloggers from all over the world would want to learn about her upcoming project.
This was where she’d always wanted to be.
Without the coconut water.
And without a stalker threatening her life.
They hadn’t actually used those words. They hadn’t threatened to kill her. But they didn’t need to. It was implied. Her life was in danger, the life she had only just earned. She’d only just made this happen.
She couldn’t even enjoy it.
Maybe that was all they wanted. To make sure she couldn’t enjoy what she’d busted her ass to earn. They were winning right then at that very minute since she was thinking about them—nameless, faceless them—instead of living in the moment.
Her phone went off, bringing her into the present moment right away. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so eerie. “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered when she turned it over on her lap and saw who was calling.
“Who is it?” Melody asked, breathless like she was just waiting for another threat to come in. The girl needed a Xanax in the worst way.
“Ben. No real threat there.” She rolled her eyes when the phone continued to ring and sighed in relief when it stopped—only to start again seconds later. “Is he serious?”
“A heartbroken ex?” the hairstylist asked with a wry chuckle.
“Something like that.” She should’ve been the one who was heartbroken, not him, and the fact that she wasn’t left her wondering whether she’d ever really cared about him at all. Shouldn’t it have b
roken her into a million pieces to know he was cheating? Shouldn’t she have at last cried?
At the time, it was easy to tell herself she was in shock. Maybe she was. Who wouldn’t be shocked at the sight of their boyfriend pile driving some rando he met at a bar? He was so into it he hadn’t even noticed her at first. She’d stood there and watched, horrified, for what felt like forever before the girl underneath Ben had opened her eyes long enough to notice they had an audience.
She’d never forget how the girl whose name she’d never bothered to learn had moaned like she was starring in porn. Having slept with Ben many times over their six months together, Serenity knew there wasn’t that much to moan about.
“He’s not gonna stop,” Melody sighed when he called a third time. “You might as well answer.”
“Or block his number,” the hairstylist suggested. “Really get rid of him. Do yourself a favor.”
She should’ve done that. It would’ve been better. Easier.
But since when did she ever do things the easy way? It was a real problem.
She answered instead, leaving the speaker on. “I’m not alone, so try not to grovel too much unless you want to make a fool of yourself within earshot of four people.”
A pause. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”
She hated how familiar the sound of his voice was, how many memories it brought back. She’d been wrong to let him get so close to her in only six months, and she’d never make that mistake again. He wasn’t worth it. No man was.
“Since when do you care if I’m okay? What brought this on?” He didn’t know about the stalker. He couldn’t unless one of the girls had talked. They’d sworn they wouldn’t. They’d sworn.
Another pause, this one longer. “Uh. Hmm. I thought you knew. I mean, I figured you’d heard.”
And damn her heart for clenching just a little when he said it since she instantly feared something was wrong—something with him, or his family, or a mutual friend. Something.
“Heard what?” she asked. The phone shook. No, it was her hand that was shaking. She lowered the phone to her lap then rather than drop it.
“About today. You didn’t hear? I was sure one of them would’ve told you.”
Her shoulders slumped as she let out a long, heavy sigh. “You’re kidding. You think I give a shit about you being out in public with Dani?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes!”
“You mean it doesn’t matter?”
“Ben. Why would it matter? Why would you it matter that you had lunch in public with that skank after what you’ve already done? That’s nothing compared to walking in on you like I did.”
“Excuse me for thinking about your feelings.” He was pouting. She would’ve bet her car he was pouting. She could practically see it. Hadn’t she once thought of his full lips as being sensual, soulful? What a jerk she was. She might as well have asked him to break her heart.
“Oh? You’re thinking about my feelings now? You’re a real prince, you know that?” She heard her voice getting louder with every word and knew she should probably try to calm herself down if only for the sake of appearance, but appearance didn’t matter very much to her right then, not when she was in the middle of her ex pretending he was anything more than subhuman.
“Don’t start with me,” he warned. “Don’t scream at me like I’m one of your girlfriends or your whipped bodyguard who’ll do whatever you want.”
“You need to shut the hell up right now,” she spat. It didn’t even matter that she was surrounded by people who’d probably blab all about this argument to the first person they saw after leaving the house. “Maybe if I’d screamed at you a little back when we were together, I wouldn’t have to look back in embarrassment at how long I let you screw around on me. Maybe if I’d demanded a little better from you, I would’ve seen how far short you’d fall. I would’ve walked out on you a long time ago.”
“That’s right. Make a drama out of it. Make it all my fault.”
“It was your fault. You literally—you know what?” she asked, stopping herself before it was too late. “Just forget it. Okay? You’re the one who called me as if you gave a damn about how I feel over you sharing a meal with somebody like you were trying to protect my tender feelings or something. Then you have the nerve to call me dramatic. Do me a favor and forget my number because I’m blocking yours once this call is finished, which is right now.”
She ended it, then blocked him the way she should’ve before. She should’ve blocked before answering. What did she expect would happen? This was Ben. He was worthless.
That didn’t mean she didn’t feel like bursting into tears though. Not like she could since her eye makeup was already done and there was no time to redo it.
“Come on,” she sighed. “Let’s get this finished up.” She lifted her chin so the makeup girl could apply her lipstick.
“You handled that well.”
She rolled her eyes to the side to see who’d come into the room. Big surprise. It was Braxton. “You were listening?” she managed to murmur while a brush swept back and forth over her lips.
“I couldn’t help it since you were screaming.”
“Shouting. Not screaming.”
“Same difference when it comes to whether or not a fight can be overheard. Who was that on the phone?” At least he did her the favor of walking around until he stood in front of her, but that meant she had to look at his smirking face.
That smirk. That damn smirk. It did the same thing to her now as it had when he first walked into the house.
“Can we talk about this later, please?” She glanced around at the outsiders who didn’t need to be hearing about her personal life. Granted, he didn’t need to hear about it, either—not as far as she was concerned.
But she was stuck with him, and he’d want to know. He’d swear it had to do with his job. Whether or not that was true was anybody’s guess.
“Just tell me who it was,” he repeated in a flat voice. “They heard just as much as I did, so it’s not like you have to tell them anything new. It sounded like a boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she grumbled. “For a week now. I just blocked his number, so there’s no way he’s gonna be able to call me again unless he calls from another number. Granted, I wouldn’t put it past him, but for now, he’s out of my way.”
“And it was his fault the two of you broke up, I guess? Just from the way things sounded?”
“What makes you think that?” she asked. “I’m genuinely interested.”
“If you’d broken up with him because you grew apart or you found somebody new, you wouldn’t be scr—shouting at him.” He corrected himself very deliberately, like he wanted to make sure she knew he was about to say something else.
“Spoken like a man who’s had more than one woman scr—shout at him,” she retorted, just as deliberate as he was. The hairstylist snorted, then cleared her throat like she was trying to cover it up.
His smirk turned to a grin. She liked him better that way, which wasn’t saying much since she didn’t like him at all. The sun must’ve affected her outside, making her lose her common sense and think he wasn’t as bad as he really was.
“Anyway, he did something stupid. Right?”
“Right,” she admitted.
“Has he ever made you feel unsafe?”
“Oh God, no. Not in the way you mean it. He was never violent. He never threatened me in any way—except for my intelligence, which he threatened just about every day.”
“Yet it took him cheating on you to get you to break it off?” Braxton winked. “I figured that one out all by myself.”
“Good for you. Sorry if there aren’t any cookies for me to give you as a reward, but I can’t have them in the house.”
“Anyway, you don’t think he holds anything against you now for breaking up with him?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew there was only so much he could say in front of people, but he’d already implied
more than enough.
“No. I don’t.”
“What’s he do for a living, this guy?”
“He’s an actor.”
“Have I ever heard of him?”
“How would I know?” she sighed. “But no, probably not. He was on a reality show years ago, and he manages to find ways to keep his name relevant. Now, our breakup—and the fact that he was spotted with another girl today—will keep him in the news cycle for at least another day or two.”
“So that’s how it works, huh? Whatever it takes to keep your name in the news cycle?”
She shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. And I’m not the one who keeps news moving as quickly as it does. It’s a double-edged sword.”
“What is?”
“All these opportunities to be a big deal. No matter who you are or what you do, if you’re talented or not, it doesn’t matter. So long as you can keep yourself out there, so long as you keep people interested, you’re good to go. But it never stops because all those opportunities that were given to you to make yourself popular, to get your name out there, are available to the next person and the next person. The second your name fades away, their name gets noticed. On and on.”
She didn’t like the way he was looking at her—like he pitied her or like she was a zoo animal on display. She realized she’d said too much. “Would you mind leaving us alone, please? I have to get dressed, and we need to get moving.”
Melody clapped her hands in agreement. “Yeah, come on! We’re on a schedule here!” She nudged Braxton out of the room. Clearly, he wouldn’t have moved unless he wanted to. There was no way Melody could have moved him unless he was working along with her.
But it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he didn’t appreciate the change in subject. He wanted to break her down, to learn all there was to know about her, her world, her work.
That would’ve been bad enough on its own if she didn’t have the feeling that he thought she was a joke.
Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset Page 29