Stalking the Billionaire Celebrity (Sweet Bay Billionaires Book 2)

by Rachel Taylor

  She wrinkled her nose, emphasizing her crow’s feet. “Isn’t that a job fair? Are you looking for another job? Did you get fired from the newspaper? You don’t want to work for a Montgomery; that’s just asking for trouble.”

  I rolled my eyes but bit my tongue. Why did she always think I was destined for failure just because her life hadn’t turned out the way she wanted it?

  “No, I’m writing an article about it.”

  The resort was a big scandal in Sweet Bay, since the quiet, hidden town wanted to stay that way. I’d been hoping to interview Calvin ever since I heard he was back in town, but he avoided the spotlight and didn’t trust the newspaper I worked for, The Sweet Bay Sun, not to print defamatory things about him. But even without the interview, the story alone would’ve been enough to make the tabloids, and I was about to run with it until I got an even better offer.

  Layla had a slightly different opinion about media attention, and it was because of her that I had the chance of a lifetime — something way bigger than interviewing a D-list celebrity or a reclusive billionaire. Calvin and Layla were throwing a job fair/grand opening party at the resort, and they offered me exclusive media rights, with the agreement that anything I wrote would portray Calvin and the resort in a favorable light.

  That didn’t sound like such a great deal, especially since the celebrity news world ran on scandal, but as soon as I found out who else would be in attendance, I was willing to paint Calvin as the next Dalai Lama and the resort as the new Mecca for the chance to interview their special guest — Beau Bennett, the hottest celebrity in Hollywood. Beau was also the sole benefactor of the Bennett fortune, making him the youngest billionaire in history.

  Studious, introverted Calvin didn’t have anything in common with playboy celebrity Beau, other than the number of zeros in their bank account balance, but they’d become acquaintances when Calvin invested in one of Beau’s films, and Beau had agreed to make a surprise appearance at Calvin’s resort, which meant I was the only reporter who had the scoop.

  That might’ve impressed my mother, but I hadn’t said anything about it yet because she was a huge gossip and it was supposed to be a secret. For a moment, I considered spilling the beans — what would it hurt now? But I resisted. The last thing I wanted was for my mother to get on the phone and tell everyone that Beau Bennett was coming to the party. Every reporter in town would know about it before I even got there.

  “I don’t want to drive my scooter wearing this dress. Can I borrow your car for the night?”

  “I suppose. But bring home some food, will ya? I heard they’re going to have a real spread.”

  “I’ll try.” I thought about suggesting she go; she might find something better than her waitressing job. But she obviously had the same bias against Calvin as the rest of the town, and I didn’t really want her there, making me nervous.

  I scooped her keys off the end table then tottered out to her car, the same one she’d been driving as long as I could remember. The greasy scent of diner food clung to the worn upholstery. I hoped the smell wouldn’t transfer to me.

  Thankfully, like everything else in the small town, the resort was only a short drive from our house. Bright lights shined up through the tropical landscaping onto the large stone and metal sign, and strands of lights wrapped around the tall palm trees on either side of the entrance, making it easy to spot, even in the dark. I drove up the curved drive and pulled under the portico where a valet in a black uniform handed me a ticket when I opened my door, making me feel equally special and embarrassed by my mom’s old car. I guess it was still better than my scooter, and I didn’t have helmet head to contend with.

  As soon as I walked through the wide, glass doors, a woman handed me a fancy, pearl tone gift bag printed with the name Sweet Bay Resort and Spa and gave her spiel about the night’s event. I wasn’t interested in the job fair, the application process, or even the buffet in the dining hall, but a reporter needs to pay attention to every detail, so I listened carefully. The incentive program Calvin was offering to entice employees intrigued me, so I made a mental note to find out more about it.

  Once the woman was done talking, I made my way deeper into the lobby, my heels tapping on the shiny, teak flooring. Throngs of people crowded around the tables that offered information about each department, distracting me from the ritzy decor, but I made a point to catalog how it looked so I could set the stage in my article.

  Stars twinkled in the large skylight in the middle of the beamed ceilings. The sound of water trickling down a stone wall and into a koi pond softened the hum of voices, and glossy, large-leaf plants made the space feel lush and tropical. Large bouquets of exotic flowers added pops of color. The scent of grilled pork, fresh fish, pineapple, and mango completed the island paradise effect.

  I strolled around the event, taking note of who was there and who wasn’t, eavesdropping on the spiels the department heads were giving, and checking out the impressive employee incentive program. I saw Calvin and Layla roaming around, but they looked busy, so I didn’t approach them. I’d catch up with them later. I was much more interested in finding Beau Bennett, but I doubted he was there yet. If he was, there would’ve been a big crowd around him.

  I decided to interview a few other people, instead. The reporter in me automatically sought out sensationalism, and I looked for those people who I expected would have critical things to say. It wasn’t hard since the Montgomery family had a bad reputation in Sweet Bay for being lowlife troublemakers, and Calvin was rubbing the town’s nose in his success by building a massive resort here that everyone thought would ruin the tranquility of the small town. I overheard several people complaining about it while taking advantage of all the good food the resort had provided.

  I pulled out my pen and notepad, ready to ask some of them for a quote, but my conscience stopped me. I’d promised Calvin I’d paint the resort in a positive light, which meant there was no point digging up drama, even though it would make the story that much better. It took everything in me to resist, though, when Calvin’s good-for-nothing brother, Steven, came in.

  He staggered through the front door, wearing dirty clothes, reeking of alcohol and body odor, and acting like he was three sheets to the wind. Calvin immediately hurried over to him and pulled him aside. They argued for a few minutes, Calvin’s voice getting softer as Steven’s got louder. I moved closer so I could listen. Even if I couldn’t write about it, I was still morbidly curious. It sounded like Steven wanted a job, but Calvin had no intention of hiring him.

  Eventually, Steven started poking Calvin in the chest. “You think you’re so special cuz you got this fancy place and boatloads of money, but you’re still nothin’ but a lowlife Montgomery to these people. But you’re even worse that that, cuz your family don’t even like you. Nobody in this town cares about you!”

  Calvin snarled at Steven then grabbed the finger jabbing him and bent it backwards. “You don’t like me? Well, guess what, I can’t stand you. I’m embarrassed to be related to you. And none of these people care about you, either, but at least I’m not a total loser like you. I made something of myself, and there’s one person in this town who cares about me. Layla’s in love with me.”

  Everyone around them gasped at that, including me, but especially Layla and her parents. Layla’s mother grabbed her chest like she was having a heart attack. Calvin’s face crumpled when he saw Layla’s reaction to his outburst. I wanted to snap a picture of the whole scene — the story would be great for the Society News section of the newspaper, especially since Layla’s family belonged to the Society Club — but Layla hustled her parents out the door before I had a chance.

  Steven stumbled backwards when Calvin let go of his finger, and the security guards caught him and dragged him outside. Calvin stomped off, fuming. My head whipped around in every direction, trying to decide which story I should follow. But I couldn’t write about any of them! Curse that stupid defamation agreement. Why did I ever concede to
that?

  Oh right, because that was the only way Calvin would agree to let me interview Beau Bennett. But where was Beau? The party had been going on for over two hours; the night was almost over. But Calvin said that Beau would present a special prize to one of the applicants, and he hadn’t done the drawing yet, so maybe Beau was waiting for that to make his appearance.

  I mulled around the party for a bit longer, listening in on people’s reactions to the scene between Calvin and Steven and Calvin’s admission about Layla. Boy, did that get the town gossiping. But eventually, even that got monotonous since everyone had the same things to say. Steven’s behavior only proved the town’s opinion about the Montgomery family, and everyone thought that Layla, the town sweetheart, was only interested in Calvin for his money since she couldn’t hack it in Hollywood.

  Eventually, I wandered down the back hall towards the offices, looking for Calvin. His door was closed, but a woman in a resort employee uniform stood outside it, taking through the door. What she said hit me like a punch to the stomach. “I just got a call from Beau Bennett’s manager. He’s not going to make it.”

  Calvin’s voice echoed through the door, angry but resigned. “Why not? Never mind, I don’t want to know why.”

  I put my hands on my hips and glared at his closed door. I wanted to know why! I’d staked my career on this interview! I never would’ve agreed not to write anything negative about Calvin and the resort without the promise of a bigger story.

  When the employee turned away, I stalked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Why isn’t Beau Bennett coming? I was supposed to interview him.”

  She spun around and shrugged. “His manager didn’t say, but there was something in the news about him being arrested.”

  I stared after her in stunned silence as she walked away. Arrested?! How did I not know about this? I read the celebrity new religiously every day… except for today. I’d been too busy getting ready for the party.

  I yanked my phone out of my purse and jabbed at the TMZ app. Beau’s gorgeous, cocky face lit up the screen, just like it did in the movies. The headline below it read, “Beau Bennett’s Downward Spiral.”

  I quickly skimmed the article. Beau had been seen cozying up to an engaged celebrity at a party last night, then today, he’d jumped out of a still-moving car, threw up on the sidewalk, behaved erratically, then tried to purchase narcotics from a nearby drug dealer. His antics had caused a scene and drawn the attention of police, who took him into custody.

  “Argh!” I growled and shoved my phone back in my purse in frustration. I didn’t even feel the least bit sorry for him. It wasn’t a surprise; Beau pulled that nonsense all the time.

  Normally, reporters like me lived for that kind of celebrity drama, but Beau had just ruined everything for me. Not only was he not showing up for his interview, his outrageous behavior was much more interesting than an appearance at Calvin’s party. He’d killed any chance I had of a headline-grabbing story.

  My thoughts immediately flicked to Calvin. Was I still bound by my agreement not to malign him or the resort since he hadn’t come through on his part of the bargain? It wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t make any difference to me. The interview with Beau was my one shot; I had nothing else, unless I wrote a story dishing the dirt on Calvin.

  It didn’t seem like a big deal to write scathing stories about celebrities, but with Calvin it felt different. More personal. We weren’t exactly friends, but he’d grown up in my hometown. Was I willing to throw him under the bus to get my story?

  Chapter 3

  Beau

  Dave walked a few steps in front of me, ominously silent, on the way to the car. He hadn’t said a word since he bailed me out, and he was giving off vibes cold enough to make me shiver even in the bright, California sun. I was already in a foul mood, and Dave wasn’t helping anything.

  If you think the LAPD gives special treatment to celebrities, you’re wrong. They aren’t impressed by how famous you are or how much money is in your bank account. If anything, I think they treated me worse because of it.

  I’d been handcuffed, tossed into a police car, fingerprinted, had the world’s most unflattering mug shot taken, and been generally treated like a lowlife criminal as they shuffled me through the booking process. I felt like I was in a mistaken identity movie. If they knew who I was, they definitely didn’t care.

  The only good thing was that I had plenty of money to post bail and a manager waiting to come get me as soon as they released me. Although, his frosty attitude wasn’t much better. I’d been hoping for a little sympathy, but it looked like I wasn’t going to get it.

  “So, how bad is it?” I asked once I settled into the front seat of the SUV.

  Dave shoved the key in the ignition and twisted it, his foot on the gas, revving the engine. Then he whipped his head towards me and squawked at me. “How bad is it? It’s as bad as it gets, Beau. You know that saying that any publicity is good publicity? Well, that’s a crock of bull. Your name is splashed across every tabloid, newspaper, and celebrity gossip website, and they’re all saying the same thing. Beau Bennett has gone off the deep end. I was trying to help you, and then you went and did something like this.”

  I pulled my phone out of the manila envelope they’d given it back to me in and pulled up TMZ. I winced when I saw the pictures of me having my breakdown from every angle. Of course, there were dozens of people around, all carrying cellphones with cameras, and plenty of them were willing to sell me out for a few bucks. I really did look like a lunatic. But couldn’t anyone recognize that it was a panic attack and not drug-induced mania? I was terrified and freaking out, but all they saw was an opportunity to exploit me.

  The car bounced as Dave squealed backwards out of the parking spot then shoved the gearshift into drive and slammed on the gas. “I told you that you needed to get some good publicity to tone down your bad boy image, but no, you had to go and do the exact opposite and make a total spectacle of yourself.”

  I stared at my lap, clothed in pajama pants. They were what I’d been wearing when I was arrested, so they were they clothes I’d been given to wear when I was released. “I didn’t intend to, I just… lost it, I guess.”

  Dave turned onto the highway, forcing his way into the stream of traffic to a chorus of horns. “Yeah, well, now we’ve got to figure out a way to convince the world you’re dealing with the problem. I’m thinking a stint in rehab.”

  “Rehab?! What? No! I’m not going to rehab. I’m not a drug addict. You know that.”

  Dave put his foot down, rocketing the car up to speed, then zoomed around a few cars till he found an opening that let him go even faster. I clutched the dash, my fingers digging into the leather.

  “Well, it sure looked like it, the way you tried to buy drugs right out in the open like that. You of all people should know that someone is always watching. You’re a celebrity. Every time you go out in public, you’re presenting an image to the world. And people want to believe the worst about celebrities, so if you act like you’re on drugs, people are going to assume you are. The only way to convince them otherwise now is to go to rehab and get better.” Even Dave didn’t really care about what was wrong with me, all he cared about was my public image.

  “Rehab isn’t going to help me; I don’t have a drug problem! I don’t want to be locked up at some facility where they monitor my every move and force me to go to a bunch of nonsense counseling sessions to deal with a drug addiction I don’t have. Why don’t you just tell them I went to rehab? I’ll lay low for a while.” I yanked on the seatbelt, feeling claustrophobic. I’d spent too much time caged up already; I couldn’t handle the thought of another kind of jail.

  “Huh uh. You don’t know how to lay low. You’ll stay at home for one night and get restless. Then you’ll wind up in some club or at some party, making a spectacle of yourself.”

  “Okay, so I’ll get out of town. Go someplace quiet where I can hide out for a while. I promise
I’ll stay out of trouble.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Like where?”

  “What about Calvin Montgomery’s resort? No one but him knew I was supposed to make an appearance there. I don’t have any other connection to it. No one would think to look for me there.”

  Dave didn’t immediately dismiss the idea, instead, he looked at me like he was actually considering it, and my hopes lifted a little. “That town is a tiny dot on the map. You probably couldn’t get in much trouble there. Do you think Montgomery would keep your visit a secret?”

  “Yeah, he likes to keep a low profile. I’m sure he’d help me out.”

  Dave raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Even after you bailed on him?”

  I winced. “Hopefully he’ll forgive me.”

  Dave gave a dramatic sigh and let up on the gas a little. “Ok, fine. But I don’t want to hear a peep about you for the next month. You need to let the hubbub die down. Then we’ll talk about ways to improve your image. I’m telling everyone you’re in rehab, working through your problems.”

  It felt like I’d won, even though there was absolutely nothing good about the situation. I was going to be bored and restless, hiding out in the middle of nowhere, but at least it was better than rehab. I didn’t like the idea of people thinking I needed rehab, but they obviously thought that anyway. I guess it wasn’t a big deal. Celebrities went to rehab all the time.

  I called Calvin and apologized for skipping out on him and asked him if I could hide out at his resort for a while. He seemed a little off, but I didn’t pry. We weren’t close enough to share personal problems, although he obviously already knew about mine. The whole world did.

  The next day, Dave got me on a commercial flight to the little town of Sweet Bay. I forced myself to stay sober for the whole trip, despite the panic clawing under my skin. I could handle commercial flights as long as the plane was big enough and the ride smooth and quiet enough to let me forget I was airborne. Dave was right; I did need to face my fears and learn to deal with them so I wouldn’t have another public panic attack.