Secret Love

by Tabatha Drake

  “Lucky for you, I’ll be in Denver this week,” he says. “Forty-eight hours from now, to be more exact.”

  “Where?”

  “The Botsford Plaza downtown. I’ve got a little party to attend.”

  “Think you can spare a few minutes to decrypt a drive for me?”

  He sighs. “And here I thought you had a challenge. Meet me at the hotel. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But if you’re not gonna explain this to me,” he says, “you should at least explain it to her. She is in LA these days.”

  “I know.” I nod, swallowing hard. “See you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  I hang up and leave the terminal behind me.

  The bright California sun blinds me as I step outside. There’s an energy in the air, a unique hustle one can’t find out in Iowa farm country. I can’t say I miss it, but I don’t hate it either. It’s been five years.

  Home sweet home.

  Chapter 6

  Dani

  I stare at my reflection in a compact mirror, my gaze lingering on the giant, white bandage covering my cheek. It finally stopped hurting, but there’s an itch that’s impossible to scratch unless I want to piss off the plastic surgeon my father is dumping way too much money onto to make it all disappear.

  I slide the mirror back into my purse and look out the car window to see my father’s neighborhood rushing by. “Smith, where are we going?” I ask.

  He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Your father’s house.”

  “I see that. Why? I said I wanted to go to my apartment.”

  “Sorry, kid. Daddy’s orders.”

  I sit farther back in the seat. “Great…”

  Smith says nothing more, keeping his blank, stoic face forward as we turn off onto my father’s street. I haven’t decided whether or not I like this new escort my father has hired to follow me around. He’s an ex-cop, obvious by the way he holds his shoulders like he’s reliving the old glory days of his career. Could be worse, I suppose.

  My hand rises to my cheek, but I manage to stop myself from scratching the stitches.

  “Hang on…” Smith says, slowing the car to a near halt as the paparazzi barely parts for us.

  They fill the end of my father’s driveway, cameras flashing at the tinted windows, hoping to get just one shot of my new, mangled face to sell to the highest bidder.

  We pass through the gate and it closes behind the car, leaving the army of cameras disappointed and angry as we travel down the long road and park in the circle drive.

  “Stay put.”

  I nod at Smith as he steps out and slides his jacket off his shoulders. We’re far enough away from the gates that they’d never get a decent shot to sell, but Dad doesn’t want to risk it leaking out at all.

  Smith opens my door for me and holds his jacket over my head to block their view of me as we walk up the stairs to the front door together.

  “Honey, she’s home!”

  I hear Cora’s voice from the living room the second my heel touches the shiny, marble floor. “Yep, I’m home,” I mutter as Smith drops his jacket.

  “I’m going to see if I can get them to piss off.” He steps back outside to deal with the vultures.

  My father’s study door bursts open, and he steps out into the foyer. His face instantly contorts into a frown and he walks over to me to grab my jaw.

  “I can’t believe this…” he says through his teeth, studying the bandage closely. “They couldn’t have just killed the old bastard and left?”

  “Dad…” I whisper, glancing into the living room at Cora. She’s been crying since yesterday, completely wrecked by the loss of her friend. “It’s fine. The doctor said it’s a clean cut, easy to fix. I got lucky.”

  “Well, we’re going to find out who did this and sue the hell out of them. We’re lucky you already finished re-shoots on Night Trials 3. Does it hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “They give you pain meds?”

  “No.”

  He furrows his brow. “What the hell kind of doctors are these?”

  “They didn’t give me meds because I declined them. Like I said, it hurts a little. Mostly just itches.”

  I step out of the foyer to join Cora in the living room. She’s curled up on the couch with a self-help book and a glass of wine. Not an unfamiliar pose for her over the last few years, unfortunately.

  “Hey, Cora.”

  “Hey, sweetie,” she says, her eyes glazed and blissful. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” I pause near the windows and poke a single finger through the blinds.

  “Make sure you check out my bookshelf,” she says, pointing at me. “I have some great books for dealing with stress.”

  “I will.”

  The paparazzi disperse as a black car parks in front of the gate. Smith steps closer to investigate.

  My father wanders in from his study with a script in his hands. “While you’re here, I want you to read this again. Make any notes you want, and we’ll take it back to Bruckberg.”

  I watch the driveway as the black car slowly rolls toward the house.

  “No,” I say.

  “No?” he parrots back. “What do you mean no?”

  “Dad, I really don’t feel like working right now.”

  “Life doesn’t stop just because something bad happens to you, honey.”

  I scoff. That’s the great Bennett Roberts for you. All work and no play.

  “I know,” I say. “I just need a few days off.”

  “Bruckberg doesn’t have a few days.”

  “Then, they’ll find someone else.”

  “Bennett…” Cora’s sweet, sing-song voice echoes from the couch. “She’s not asking for much. Just a little time to heal.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  “No — not thank you. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Roxie. A lifetime.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Dad…” I drop the curtain and step away from the window.

  “You can start by telling me what the hell is wrong with you! Where are you going?”

  “To answer the door.”

  I walk out of the living room and into the foyer as their voices continue behind me.

  “Bennett, please. You’re shouting.”

  “Of course, I am! My daughter is throwing her career away!”

  “Bennett…”

  I pull the door open just as Smith reaches for the handle from the outside. “Hey, Smith.”

  He sighs and steps inside. “What did I tell you about answering doors?”

  “Honestly, can’t remember,” I joke.

  “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t answer doors is what I told you.”

  “I looked out the window and saw you walking up the drive.”

  “And what did I tell you about lingering in front of windows?”

  I smile. “Don’t?”

  “You know, kid, I’ve guarded dictators who were easier to deal with than you.”

  “Not nearly as pretty, though, right?”

  He sneers in my direction and walks into the living room. “Ma’am,” he says, addressing Cora. “You have a visitor out front. He refuses to leave.”

  My father turns up his hands. “So, make him leave. What else do I pay you for?”

  “Who is it?” Cora asks.

  Smith places his hands on his hips. “He says he’s your son.”

  Cora pauses and slowly sets her wineglass on the coffee table in front of her. “My son?” she repeats.

  “Said his name is Fox.”

  I turn toward the door. I raise my hand to my mouth without thinking. My fingertips graze my lips, feeling the long-forgotten tug of him drawing my bottom lip between his teeth.

  “Fox?” I breathe his name, excitement stirring in my breast.

  Cora shoots off the couch. “Show me,” she says, following Smith outside.

  “Let’s not get too excited…”
my father warns. “It could be a prank.”

  He’s right. Lamb announced in front of dozens of cameras that Fox was killed in action. That video hit one million views in less than an hour. There are plenty of people out there willing enough to toy with someone’s emotions like that.

  Hey, look, Roxie! It’s me! Fox! I’m home!

  I stand back and wait in the front hall while they all pile outside. I can’t help but think of the last time I saw him. Racing hearts and wrinkled sheets…

  I tried to stop. I tried to shut it off and ignore it, but I can’t.

  It’s always been you, Dani.

  Cora screams. I abandon my trance and rush outside to join them. She’s on her knees in the circle drive. My father’s doing everything he can to bring her back up but she’s sobbing way too hard. Smith stands near them with his hand lingering above the gun strapped to his hip. They’re all looking forward at the car parked in the drive and the brown-haired man standing in front of it wearing a jet-black suit with no tie.

  Fox.

  He looks at me and I tremble in my shoes.

  “Get back inside, Roxie,” Smith says at me, holding up a hand.

  I ignore him and walk down the concrete stairs to get a better look at him. My father gets Cora to her feet and I pause near them, staring up into the brown eyes of a dead man.

  “Hey, Dani,” he says to me.

  His voice is deep, far deeper than I remember. He never had a beard either. His skin was smooth as butter back then. Now, it’s calloused and gray with hard lines on the edges of his eyes. There’s a darkness in them that wasn’t there five years ago. That playful twinkle has completely vanished. Wherever he’s been…

  I’m honestly scared to find out.

  Cora stumbles toward him. “Fox?” She reaches out and cups his shaggy face. “My Fox?”

  “Yeah, Mom,” he says, his eyes soft. “It’s me.”

  Tears stream down her face and she leaps up to throw her arms around him. “You’re home!”

  He hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace.

  Then, he looks at me.

  “We need to talk,” he says.

  Fox.

  The man who fucked me and bailed without saying goodbye.

  You bet your ass we need to talk.

  Chapter 7

  Fox

  Then

  I stab my fork through a pile of mashed potatoes as I try to ignore the constant sound of Bennett yapping on and on about some super important audition coming up soon.

  These new family dinners were all my mother’s idea. When she and Bennett decided to shack-up permanently, I got dragged along, too. Goodbye, North Hollywood. Hello, Beverly Hills and gated communities. Hello, cooks and maids.

  Hello, Dani Roberts. Every single day.

  I look up at her from my plate. She sits across from me in her usual chair, her own fork dancing with a piece of broccoli.

  “Uh-huh,” she hums at something Bennett says, though she doesn’t seem at all interested in what he’s saying.

  “You get this part, honey, and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on,” Bennett says, excitedly waving his fork above his plate. “Roles like this open a lot of doors for young actresses like you.”

  I’m sure a famous daddy shaking hands with his rich pals behind the scenes doesn’t hurt either.

  Dani nods. “I’m looking forward to it,” she says.

  My mother smiles. “Dani, if you need help running your lines, I’m your girl.”

  “Sure,” she replies. “That’ll be great. Thank you.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Bennett says as he quickly blots his lips with his napkin. “We need to do something about your name.”

  Dani blinks. “My name?”

  “Yeah, Danielle Roberts,” he says with a wince. “It’s too long. Doesn’t roll off the tongue as well as I’d like.”

  I look at her, hoping to see at least one rational thought cross her face. Luckily, she doesn’t immediately nod and go along with it. She pauses with a furrowed brow and thinks for a second before replying.

  “Well, we could just use Dani, then,” she suggests. “That’s what most people call me anyway—”

  “No,” Bennett says. “God, no. It’s too androgynous. No, we need something new and interesting. Feminine and wild.” He makes an excited fist. “We need Roxie.”

  I snort.

  Bennett glares at me as if he just now noticed I’m even here. “Can I help you, Fox?” he asks.

  I shake my head, amused.

  He exhales in annoyance and turns his attention back to Dani. As he rattles on a few more “good” reasons to change her name, Dani shifts slightly in her chair with her eyes on me. She seems surprised that I even made a sound at all. It’s not like she’ll ever stand up for herself against him. If I’ve picked up anything from the last few months of living here with them, it’s that.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” my mother says. “I actually quite like Danielle. It’s classical. And very pretty.”

  Dani nods in agreement and opens her mouth to speak.

  “No, it’s not,” Bennett says over her. “We’ve decided on Roxie. It’s final.”

  “No,” I say, scoffing. “You decided.”

  Bennett slams his hand on the table. “Fox, how about you mind your—”

  “It’s fine, Daddy,” Dani says, raising her voice over him. “I like it. We…” She throws on a smile, the same one she always uses to placate him. “We should use Roxie instead. It’s great.”

  He exhales hard and scoops his knife off the table. “Good to hear someone else around here making sense,” he says as he angrily slices his steak.

  The table lingers in an awkward state for a bit longer. My mother looks at me with that he means well, I’ll talk to him sympathy stare, though I couldn’t care less if Bennett and I get along. I’m just not sure how much longer I can take watching him tightening that noose around Dani’s neck every freakin’ day.

  I catch her still staring at me across the table. I expect her to quickly look away like she usually does, but she offers a hidden smile for me instead. Maybe Dani isn’t nearly as brainwashed by her Hollywood dad as I thought.

  “Go easy on the potatoes, honey,” Bennett mutters at her.

  Dani looks down with sagging shoulders and abandons her fork on her plate.

  Chapter 8

  Fox

  Now

  Bennett stares across the dining room table at me with his arms tightly crossed. This hostile reaction to my homecoming isn’t the least bit surprising. He and I never exactly threw the old pigskin around together.

  My mother sits on the opposite end facing him with a stack of used tissues in front of her. Dani is across from me. Just like our old family dinners with the obvious exception of the middle-aged ex-cop lingering in the doorway behind me.

  “How is this possible?” Bennett asks me.

  “It’s a long story,” I answer.

  “Better be a good one…”

  Dani’s eyes twitch in his direction, but she says nothing to argue with it. I don’t blame her.

  Bennett exhales. “Well, let’s hear it.”

  I look at Dani again, my eyes falling to the bandage covering her cheek. Snake Eyes could be on their way here right now. They could even be out front, wolves in paparazzi clothing. If that’s the case, it’s possible they recognized me outside.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, “but it can wait.”

  “Like hell, it can wait, Fox,” Bennett says. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put your mother through?”

  “I can imagine,” I say. “Right now, Dani is in danger.”

  She blinks. “What do you mean?”

  I point to her cheek. “The men who killed Senator Lamb,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “I have a history with them.”

  Bennett scoffs. “What kind of history?”

  I keep my eyes on Dani’s. “They’ll come back for you.”

  “Fox,” he
continues, his voice growing louder, “what are you talking about?”

  “And they’ll kill you.”

  She stares back at me with wide, fearful eyes. Scaring her is the last thing I want to do, but it’s the only card I have. She’s stared into Mercer’s eyes. I know she’ll believe me when I say he’s dangerous.

  “I don’t have time to explain everything,” I say. “The best thing to do right now is to get you somewhere safe.”

  “She’s not going anywhere.” He points a finger at me. “Especially not with you.”

  “Bennett,” my mother scolds. “We should listen to what he has to say.”

  “Why? Go on, Fox. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t toss you out on your ass.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” she whispers. “This is my son!”

  “Exactly, Cora. He’s your son. A son who let you believe he was dead for years. Every birthday, Christmas, and Mother’s Day. Isn’t that right, Fox?”

  “Well, surely, there must have been some reason why he couldn’t contact us.” She looks down the table at me. “Right?”

  I can barely meet her eyes. “No,” I answer.

  She sits back in her chair as even more silent tears fall. Even Dani leans back in disappointment.

  “See?” Bennett says, throwing up his hands. “Son of the friggin’ year.”

  “I did it to protect you,” I say. “That’s all I can say right now.”

  “From what?”

  I look at Dani’s cheek again. “From them.”

  “Well, look how that turned out.” He gestures to her face. “A half a million dollars down the drain for plastic surgery.”

  “And I’m sorry about that, but… you need to let me take her somewhere safe. After that, I promise I will answer any question you have about the last few years. You just have to trust me.”

  “Trust you?” Dani’s voice quivers on her breath. “How the hell are we supposed to do that?”

  “Dani—”

  “We don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “It’s me.”