Rod shifted his stance, folding his arms in front of him. He stepped off to the side and away from Peter, putting more distance between them. Darla had told him on many occasions how intimidating Peter could be, but until today he never really appreciated how she must have felt all her life trying to stand up to him. At first, he hadn’t even believed her. Thought it was the booze talking. By all outward appearances, Peter was outgoing and friendly. A little crude and a bit full of himself, but not mean or threatening.
Not today though. Today, Rod saw something fully reveal itself in the man’s eyes. A malevolence creeping out of the shadows, waiting for just the right moment to let loose. Fear iced its way up Rod’s spine, cold and unsettling. He nearly faltered. “I don’t want to run the studio anymore,” he said.
“What!” Peter lunged at him, reaching him in two steps and catching him by the throat with a swift grasp, squeezing hard on Rod’s windpipe.
Instinctively, Rod pulled at the hand clutching his throat, but to no avail. Peter’s grip remained iron-firm, slowly closing off his airflow. “Peter, stop.” The words came out strangled and garbled. “Peter, you fucking asshole, you’re choking me.” He rasped the words out, using the last of his air.
Finally, Peter let go. Rod jerked back into his chair, sucking down huge gulps of breath and massaging his burning throat. “Jesus Christ! You fucking moron! What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Peter’s face had turned red. “I’m not the one trying to break my word and back out of our deal, pansy ass. What’s wrong with you?”
“Look.” Rod tried to stay calm, appeal to the man’s more rational senses. Not unleash the beast again. “I don’t understand why you’re so dead-set against running the studio. You love this stuff.”
“Then let me spell it out for you, genius. If I wanted everyone and their brother to know about my hobbies I wouldn’t have needed a business partner. I have a reputation, a standing in the community to maintain. I can’t be connected to this shit.”
“And I guess my reputation and standing in the community are irrelevant.”
Peter broke out laughing. “Reputation? What fucking reputation? You were disgraced, disbarred and broke when I met you. I hate to break it to you, pal, but your standing in the community was already shot to hell long before you started running this studio.”
So nice of the guy to shove it in his face that way. “I guess it never occurred to you I might like to regain my reputation and standing in the community someday.”
“Quit your whining. Christ, you’re starting to sound like Darla. I think it’s time you gave her the boot and started growing your balls back.”
Yeah, he would think that. “I don’t think so,” he said, and rose from the chair, stepping once more away from Peter. “If I ever grow my balls back, I’ll just walk out of here instead.”
“You do that,” Peter challenged. “And I will personally see to it your ass ends up in jail.”
“For what? Running a porn studio? That doesn’t qualify as something people get thrown in jail for.”
“No, but using underage girls in your movies will sure as hell land your ass in the slammer.”
Rod’s stomach roiled in disgust. “I knew Heather wasn’t eighteen.”
Peter laughed again, like he was enjoying a good joke. “I’m not just talking about Heather, pal. I’m talking about half the girls you’ve had working here.”
“Shit.” He’d been played.
“That’s right, buddy boy. You back out of this deal now and it’s all on you.”
A well-controlled anger simmered below Rod’s surface. “You think you won’t go down, too, if that happens?”
“Hey.” Peter held his hands up in front of him. “All I did was put up the money. You’re the one’s been running the joint.”
Rod said nothing. He stood there, his brain racing a million miles a minute. He needed to find a way out of this nightmare.
“Oh, and by the way,” Peter said. “Unless you want me to get really pissed off, you’ll get back that film of you and Nick’s wife doing the dirty deed. I have plans for that movie.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” And what did he mean by ‘really get pissed?’ Choking him didn’t count? “I don’t even know who has the damn film.”
“Don’t you? You said the film disappeared the same day Nick managed to get photos of you and my daughter for The Tattletale. Try someone who works there.” He walked away, muttering. “And you’re supposed to be smart.”
Rod glared at the man walking away from him. That’s right, I am smart. And it was about time he started using his brains again. “D-bag!” He yelled at the top of his lungs and waited for the moron to show up. D-bag appeared seconds later, huffing and puffing. He looked around, a faint hint of confusion on his face.
“Peter leave?”
“Yes,” Rod snapped. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a job for you.”
“What?”
“Get your ass over to Jamie Jenning’s apartment and tear that place apart until you find my movie of Janelle Tyler-Beck.” Had to be at Jamie’s. No chance Danny Ventura would have it with that house full of kids he had.
“Huh?” D-bag stared at him, blinking.
“It’s labeled,” Rod supplied. “Go find it and get it back here. Tonight. And when you get back, leave it downstairs and don’t bother me. I have work to do.”
D-bag still looked confused, but nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”
That’s right, Peter. Rod felt his confidence return. I am smart. And you’re about to find out just how smart I am.
Chapter 38
Jamie jogged through wet sand on a dark beach. Along the length of coastline, waves crashed onto the shore, driven by howling winds that tangled hair in front of her face and cooled the sweat from her body. Water occasionally splashed her bare feet and threw a mist of salty sea air at her. The sensations calmed her; reminded her how big the world was, how small she and her problems were and how the world would go on, no matter what happened. She made peace with her decision. She would tell Nick the truth, give him the movie of Janelle and Rod, and hope he didn’t hate her for the rest of her life.
Telling Nick the truth, looking into his eyes while she admitted she had lied, shamed her. Made her feel like she wanted to run, dry heaving, for the bathroom. Nothing, however, could feel worse than living with the guilt she now felt. She had to wipe away any secrets between them. If he chose not to forgive her, if he chose never to speak to her again, she would have to accept that reality. Given the way her feelings for him were spiraling out of control, it would probably be for the best anyway.
As she reached a stretch of beach a mile from where she’d parked, she turned and began jogging back. With the tide now in, water splashed up to her ankles. Instead of adjusting her jog up to dryer sand, however, she continued running in a straight line, through the cresting waves spilling over her feet. The feel of the water and the taste of the sea foam on the night air sent with it the reassurance there was still normalcy in life, no matter how much it seemed beyond her grasp.
In her mind she played out how her confession would go. She’d invite Nick over to her apartment. Tell him it was urgent. She needed him there so she could hand over the movie. The alternative was to take the movie over to his house. Telling him at her apartment suited her best though. Gave her home court advantage. Her younger brother Jake had played basketball in high school. She knew all about home court advantage.
When Nick showed up at her place she’d offer him a drink. The Glenlivet she’d picked up at a party store on her way to the beach. He’d be happy for the drink. Thank her for it. And she’d sit down and have one with him. If she sat his drink down on the coffee table instead of handing it to him, that would oblige him to sit on the sofa. While he got comfortable she could go back and make her drink, and then come and sit beside him.
Was it a good idea to be sitting so close to him when she made her con
fession?
It didn’t matter, she decided. She wanted to be close to him. Needed for him to see the sincerity in her face when she apologized.
And how would he react?
She imagined the anger she’d see on his face. The moment of hurt that would come when he realized the one person he trusted had lied to him.
What she would not do was start crying. That much was certain. Her eyes were misting up now thinking about it, but she would only allow that to happen in private. With Nick she would keep things calm and professional. She would apologize. Sincerely apologize. But she would not lose control of her emotions in any way.
She’d tell him how sorry she was. That if she had it to do over again, she’d tell him the truth right from the start. She’d explain she was only trying to keep him from being hurt any further. That she knew how much he had loved Janelle and didn’t want to see his memories of her tarnished.
And that was the real truth of it.
Jamie shook the scene from her head. She was over-thinking this. Maybe she should tell him the truth with a simple, yet sincere, apology and hand over the movie. Clean and simple.
Looking up, she saw she had reached her Jeep. She probably wouldn’t know what to do until he actually showed up at her door.
Chapter 39
Before D-bag returned to the studio, Rod had already sent Heather off in a cab to a decent hotel, five crisp one hundred dollar bills in her purse. She was barely coherent and Rod suspected D-bag given her something not exactly legal. He had told her it wasn’t necessary to show up for work tomorrow.
Back at the studio he’d taken every camera and downloaded the video he’d just shot of his argument with Peter. Next, he’d photographed all of the IDs and paperwork on file for every actor who’d stepped foot inside the place. After that, he’d stashed the cameras in the trunk and back seat of his car.
He’d barely finished with his preparations when D-bag burst through the door, a big old smile planted on his face. He waved a familiar looking DVD in the air.
“Guess what I got, bro?”
Rod rushed over and snatched the film from him. Janelle Tyler-Beck’s name was clearly labeled on the outside. “Thanks.” And I’m not your bro. D-bag disgusted him every bit as much as Peter. Having to make nice with the guy galled him. The film, however, would keep Peter off his ass while he worked the rest of his plan. “Did anyone see you?”
D-bag shook his head. “Nope. I was in and out of there in less than ten minutes. Stupid broad kept it in her panty drawer, as if that isn’t the first place a guy’s gonna look.”
Women could always be counted on to behave like women. He gave D-bag a thin smile. “Perfect. Thanks again.”
The moron smiled wider, showing off a full set of dentures. “You want I should get things ready for tomorrow’s shoot?”
“Can’t. Fucking cameras broke. All of them. Can you believe that shit?” Rod headed for the door. “I may be in a little late tomorrow. I need to get the cameras fixed before Peter has a cow.”
One good thing had come out of this day, Rod thought. He really had grown his balls back.
Chapter 40
Jamie arrived at her apartment, realizing something was wrong as soon as she got to the door. The knob was busted and the door stood halfway open. Looking inside, she could see the place had been ransacked. Cushions torn off the sofa, books pulled down from the shelves. Anger struck first, and then terror. Whoever had broken in may have been looking for more than a jewelry box and a blu ray player to lift. Panic urged her inside, past the living room and into her bedroom. She stopped as soon as she reached the doorway. The drawer to her lingerie was pulled open. She knew without looking what had been taken.
The film of Janelle and Rod was gone.
Chapter 41
Peter had worked late into the night putting together the morning’s edition of Tidbits, and when he was done he was proud of the finished product. It had gone to press around one a.m. and hit the newsstands at six. He’d done the layout himself. In bold block letters, the headline trumpeted: NICK BECK SUSPECT IN WIFE’S DEATH. Beneath the headline, he’d positioned a steamy still from Janelle’s little sex romp with Rod, making sure he had a clear view of their faces, and leaving so little to the imagination it took blurring out half the photo to make it suitable for print.
The photo was large, taking up half the remaining page beneath the headline. Below that, he’d positioned the grainy photo Gina had taken of Nick and Jamie, and placed that beside a photo of Nick leaving the police station after his third round of questioning.
Details were explained in the story on the following pages, but the front page really said it all. Nick’s wife had an affair. The man was involved in a little side fling of his own, and Janelle’s murder was the result of either a jealous rage or the simple need to get her out of the way. He’d waited a long time to get revenge on that prick, and it felt great.
The latest edition of Tidbits turned out beautifully. A real slap in the face to Peter’s critics. People who said he was just an aging playboy didn’t know the real him. He cared about his work. His work was what made him great. Turned him into the man he was today. And he was good at it. The partying and carousing were just ways to blow off steam. Hell, a man needed to blow off steam once in a while.
He thought about Heather and the whole blow up with Rod yesterday. Mother-fucker really pissed him off. Hell, that girl had been on the corner hooking when he’d picked her up.
When the hell had Rod gotten so goddamn sanctimonious anyway?
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he called out. Rod stepped inside, looking tired. Guy actually had bags under his eyes. Peter snickered. “Speak of the devil. Boy, you look like shit this morning.”
Rod sat in one of the leather chairs near the bar, without waiting for an invitation. “Thanks. You look great, too.”
“Hey, I always look great.” Guy was getting a bit too cocky. Peter grabbed his prized edition of Tidbits off his desk and tossed it at Rod. “You see the morning paper?”
As Rod looked over the front page, a smile appeared on his face.
“That’s right.” Peter pointed at the paper. “You come complaining to me about a problem, and what do I do? I fix it for you.”
“You certainly did. Now if you could just fix the problem you informed me of yesterday, I could stop having coronaries.”
Not so much as a thank you. Talk about ingratitude. If Rod didn’t cool it with the attitude, he was going to find his ass in a world of hurt. “What are you complaining about now?”
Rod set the paper down on the end table at his side. “I want to know why you brought in underage girls to work on the movies our studio was making.”
“Fuck!” Peter slammed his fist down on his desk. “What is wrong with you lately?”
“I don’t know, Peter. Maybe I don’t like finding out you were bringing in minors to make adult films, without my knowledge, and then threatening to have me thrown in jail if I complained about what you were doing.”
So his ego was feeling a little deflated. “Look, you don’t need to go getting your nose out of joint, pal. I was just trying to bring it to your attention there was nothing for you to gain by crossing me. Trying to back out of our deal. Telling me to take over running the studio and all that shit. What’s your fucking problem anyhow?”
“Our deal didn’t include using underage girls, Peter. I told you from the beginning I wanted to run a clean place.”
“We do run a clean place.” The entire tenor of this meeting was starting to piss him off. “Don’t I regularly have every single one of those actors tested for STDs?”
Rod just sat there on the chair, staring at him.
“Well, damn it? Don’t I?”
“Yes,” Rod conceded. “You get them tested.”
“Before every single shoot?”
“Yes. Before every single shoot.”
“And don’t I pay them well? As well as an
ybody else in the business?”
“Yes, Peter. You pay them well.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I told you when I agreed to run the studio, eighteen and up only.”
Holy fuck, the guy was a pussy ass little bitch. “You see ID for those girls showing they were all eighteen or older?”
Rod sat back, hands shoved in his jacket pocket, just sitting there, staring, coming off like some evangelical convert who’d just found Christ. Peter couldn’t figure the guy out. “What are you worried about?”
“I’m worried about you, Peter. About what you’re doing at the studio. How you’re trying to involve me in it, and how you’re threatening to make me into your fall guy if I don’t do exactly what you want.”
“Do what I tell you and you won’t have anything to worry about.”
“Right.”
Rod stood, picking up the morning’s paper and handed it back to Peter. “Nice story,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”
At least he’d noticed that much. “You headed over to the studio?”
Rod nodded. “In a bit. Camera broke. I have to get it fixed.”
“Hurry up and get your butt over there. This is Heather’s first movie. I want to make sure she works out.”
“I thought you said she was a pro.”
“She is a pro.” Peter laughed. “On the streets, anyway. I want to make sure she continues to be a pro on film.”
As soon as the cry baby was gone, Peter picked back up his newspaper. The front page was genius. God, he was good.
Chapter 42
Most people didn’t like Mondays. An end to the weekend, sleeping in and leisure time. Back to the grind of the workweek. Nick could tell the Monday haters instantly when he came into the office. None of them even looked awake before ten a.m., much less happy to be there. He had always liked Mondays though. Looked forward to getting into the office. Checking out the tip sheets. Finding out which celebrities had hit the party scene, hooked up, broken up, checked into rehab. Sometimes it was the same celebrity all in the same weekend. That always made for a good news week.
Gossip (Desire Never Dies) Page 17