15 Minutes

by Larissa Reinhart

  While Vicki fielded questions about the show, Giulio brayed with pretend mirth at my touchiness. His fingers slipped around my wrist and jerked me to my toes to face him.

  "Maizie," he whispered. "You are causing my feelings to hurt. And my finger. Kiss me now."

  "Giulio, let go." I pulled, but he held tight. "I don't want to kiss you. This is a sham. I'm not having your baby and I'm not doing the show. I'm trying to work, for God's sake."

  "I support this detective career as long as it doesn't interfere with the raising of the baby. You are glowing, so beautiful."

  "Are you insane? I'm glowing because it's Georgia in June and I'm wearing black leather knee boots. There is no baby," I said. Loudly. Compounded with a shove. That knocked Giulio against the bar.

  Giulio gasped. His eyes brimmed with unshedable tears. He was a much better actor than everyone gave him credit.

  Perez Hilton was going to love this.

  Vicki spun around and grabbed my forearm, pressing her thumb into the crevice of my elbow. The effect caused a simultaneous buckling of my knees and contracting of my bladder.

  It is my belief that Vicki took that Jujitsu class just for these opportunities.

  "Maizie," she muttered. "Wave, smile and walk away. Do it for me."

  Giulio was an actor with an agent. He could get another part that wasn't Maizie Albright's baby daddy.

  But Vicki was my mother.

  I wanted to believe I had just been a gullible idiot and not a malicious brat who took advantage of her status to get away with breaking the law. But maybe I was a brat, who’d taken advantage of the mother who fought Hollywood for me and the father who disapproved of what I’d become.

  And now I took advantage of poor Nash, whose whole livelihood was poised on the brink of ruin. Because I had wasted precious time battling with Vicki instead of watching a woman who was now missing.

  Why did I think I deserved this new career? I’d already proven I was no Julia Pinkerton.

  Actually I was no better than Vicki, scrambling for the life she’d thought she missed out on. At least there hadn’t been any dragging of lakes on Vicki’s watch.

  I waved. Smiled. Walked away.

  sixteen

  #SpinCity #LastKnown

  Behind me, I could hear the press shouting Giulio's name and briefly wondered how Vicki would spin my escape. The trick was in neither confirming nor denying anything. Speculation fed more stories. More stories kept careers alive.

  Which was very frustrating when one wanted that career to die.

  Nash waited for me. I had no choice but to move on. Near the pier, a Lake Patrol boat idled. On the docks, men and women in various uniforms clustered. Another boat trolled farther out on the lake. Squinting, I could make out the brown Park Ranger stripes. My gaze swept from the lake and docks to the cart path where Nash watched privately, binoculars trained on the boat.

  I quick-stepped to Nash's side. He let the binoculars drop around his neck, then jerked his head toward the Cove patio.

  "Where's the coffee?"

  "Alex didn't have to-go cups. Sorry."

  "Maybe they ran out. The Cove's pretty crowded today."

  I quickly segued. “What's going on in the lake? Did they find Sarah Waverly's body?"

  He shook his head. "The police and rangers are using sonar. They've got divers on standby. If that doesn't work, then they'll have to drag. Time-consuming, dangerous stuff."

  I shivered. "Did they arrest David Waverly?"

  "Nope. Nothing to arrest him on. Yet."

  "Aren't they looking anywhere else?"

  "A forensic unit searched his house. Police are knocking on Platinum Ridge doors." Nash grabbed the binoculars. "The phone is the biggest lead."

  "When did you find the phone?" He wasn't looking at the lake, but staring at the cluster of people on the dock.

  "A few days ago. Friday, maybe?"

  "You found evidence on the boat three days ago and didn't tell me? You know I care what happened to Sarah." I whirled in front of his binoculars. "You should have told me."

  "You're blocking my view." Nash lowered the binoculars to glare when I didn't move. "This is not some stupid TV show where the mystery’s wrapped up in fifty minutes. These are real people."

  "I know that." I squeezed my thumb skin and tried not to blink. "I want to help. For real."

  Nash jerked his thumb at the Cove. "See what you drag around with you?"

  "Is that why you're so angry? I can explain." I glanced up at the patio, where the camera crews had grouped on the edge to film the Lake Patrol boats. Reporters filed down the stone steps. "It's not my fault. I don't want them. I didn't ask for this."

  "Guess what? I didn't ask to be stuck with you either." His cool blue eyes bored into me. "When you get tired of playing detective, you can go back to lifestyles of the rich and famous. I'll be lucky to work at McDonalds."

  "But..." I glanced over my shoulder and saw the press swarming toward us.

  "Dammit." Nash grabbed my arm, pulled me behind him, and edged backward down the path, away from the docks.

  David Waverly and Ed Sweeney broke off from the law enforcement huddle to stride down the dock toward the growing group of reporters eclipsing the lake edge. A uniformed policeman pushed past them to bar the press from accessing the dock.

  At the edge of the steps, Waverly halted, gazing down at the legion of reporters. A smile grew and faltered. “Thanks for coming.”

  The questions started immediately.

  "So the reporters had come for a press conference?" I said. "Waverly called them here?"

  "Did you think they just hung around here, hoping you'd show up?"

  Obviously, Nash didn't understand paparazzi. Or maybe he didn't yet realize the entire Albright crew stayed at the club villas. "I can't hear what they're saying."

  When I tried to squirm around Nash, he held out an arm to block me. "Just hush. Don't let them see you."

  With Ed Sweeney looking on, Waverly held a hand up to the body of press, indicating he would speak.

  "The police are searching every possible avenue for my wife, including the lake." Waverly's voice carried over the rustling of the crowd. "I'm offering a reward for any information about Sarah Waverly's disappearance. I'll also offer private interviews to legitimate representatives of the press."

  "I don't get it," I whispered to Nash. "If he thought Sarah had run off with someone, why is he now acting like he thinks she's been taken against her will?"

  "Because Waverly knows he looks suspicious. Her phone is somewhere in that lake. He's desperate for anything to nose the police away from himself as the prime suspect."

  The buzz of reporters died down.

  "Come on. Let's cut out,” said Nash.

  Waverly's voice called over the crowd. "There's the man who should be held responsible. For a month, he stalked my wife. Yes, I hired him for surveillance because I thought Sarah was having an affair. The day after he quit, she disappeared. Likely coincidence. Now I realize that I had sent a wolf to watch over my poor Sarah. That man is the real suspect."

  “Sumbitch." Nash halted our walk and turned around.

  The reporters whirled. Photographers snapped shots of Nash.

  Waverly hopped from the dock steps, pushing his way through the crowd toward us.

  Nash pressed his back against me, trying to block me from the press's view.

  However, if I knew anything, it was dealing with the press. Particularly bad press. This was the moment where I’d redeem the mess I’d made. I moved around him.

  He growled and tried to pull me back.

  The crush hurried toward us, responding to the bigger story.

  "Long time, no see." I smiled, while automatically adjusting myself for the best camera angles. "Sorry about earlier. I was really taken by surprise. As you can see, I'm not dressed for speaking to the press. The news of Sarah Waverly's disappearance has upset all of Black Pine."

  I leaned forward, allowing fo
r a conspiratorial sharing with the camera shutters. "Vicki and Giulio don't even realize this breaking local news. I'm sure they wouldn't have called you to discuss a TV show when this tragedy is happening in our midst."

  "Unbelievable," muttered Nash.

  "Hey," called David Waverly, moving forward. "What are you saying? This is my press conference."

  I ignored Waverly to point at Nash. "This man, Wyatt Nash of Nash Security Solutions, has been working tirelessly to learn what happened to Sarah Waverly. He won't rest until the truth is discovered. Nash Security Solutions brought her disappearance to the attention of local law enforcement."

  "Is it true you're studying for a new Julia Pinkerton movie?" called a reporter.

  "Should that matter when a woman's life may be at stake?" I asked. "What matters is that Wyatt Nash will not cease until he uncovers the truth."

  "Brother." Wyatt rubbed his brow.

  I drew the cameras away from the unflattering shot of Nash's face covered by his hand.

  They focused back on Waverly. "What can you tell us of your wife's disappearance?"

  "I can tell you this," said Waverly, turning to the cameras. "Wyatt Nash watched Sarah for a month. The day she vanished, Wyatt Nash sent an actress to follow my wife. Maizie Albright was the last person to see my wife alive."

  My smile melted.

  Behind me, I heard a string of expletives. Before me, I watched fingers tap David Waverly's quote on various devices.

  David Waverly may have wanted his fifteen minutes of fame, but it only took fifteen seconds for my failure to be broadcasted to the world.

  seventeen

  #NoDonutsForYou #DebutanteDistress

  As a reward for being the last known witness of a missing woman, Black Pine police offered Nash and me a ride in a golf cart. To a waiting patrol car. We then drove to the Black Pine Police Department where we had separate detainment rooms and answered questions about the Sarah Waverly surveillance. For many, many hours. With bad coffee. And no donuts.

  More reporters waited for our exit of the pokey. It seemed all too familiar. Flashbacks of the indictment against Oliver played in my head.

  And later on E! News.

  Walking from the police station, I couldn’t look at Nash. Partly due to my embarrassment. Partly because I couldn’t take my eyes off the Escalade parked before the police station. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel her eyes boring through the tinted window.

  Like a nightmare, her presence seemed to pull me through the crowd. While my mind shouted “Stop,” “Run Away,” and “Find a crucifix,” my legs carried me straight to the waiting car.

  The door opened and she dipped her Oliver Peoples so I could catch her once over. “Really, Maizie. How hard is it to smile, wave, and walk away?”

  I found myself climbing in the Escalade. I turned toward the back window as we pulled away.

  Nash stood on the sidewalk, ignoring the reporters, and watched our departure. His expression remained shuttered, but I could feel contempt rolling off him, like a simmering volcano spewing clouds of disgust.

  I spun in my seat and fixed my attention on the back of the driver’s head.

  This felt much worse than Oliver’s indictment. That had been a knee-buckling shock, but I had been innocent in that scandal, no matter how it looked. This scandal? Not innocent. And pretty much all my fault. I flashed a look at Vicki. Sort of her fault, too, if she hadn’t blocked traffic with this stupid Escalade.

  “Really Maizie,” said Vicki.

  I flinched. Had she read my mind?

  “As I taught you to always do your best, I assume you gave this job your best shot.” She patted my knee. “It’s not the end of the world.”

  “A woman is missing, Vicki.”

  “Of course you didn’t do anything criminal. They could argue negligence, maybe, but these suspect charges won’t stick. I’ll get my people on it.”

  “I don’t want your people on it.” When would I stop sounding like a whiny teenager? I was twenty-five already. “I’m going to handle it myself.”

  “Right.” She slipped off her sunglasses, pulled out her phone, and began thumbing through her emails.

  “How do you not see this is important to me? To do something on my own? To clean up my own messes? To live the life I want?”

  “Who lives the life they want?” Vicki rolled her eyes. “You have obligations. Responsibilities you left behind when you ran back to daddy. You want to clean up your own messes? Start with those.”

  “I can’t go back to LA even if I wanted to, Vicki. Judge Ellis—”

  “Judge Ellis gave you an excuse to run away. You have created another fantasy world for yourself. Except this time, you’re not getting paid to play a detective.” The green eyes bored into me. “Am I right?”

  I sucked in my upper lip to prevent any whimpering.

  Vicki sighed. “I’m your mother, Maizie. I know you better than anyone. And I want what’s best for you. Let me help you. You want to play a detective again? I’ll get you a new agent and we’ll start fielding scripts. But in the meantime, I need you for the show. As much as I’d like to star in All Is Albright, the audience wants you. You’re the draw. How can you turn your back on me now?”

  I closed my eyes to stop the Space Mountain star room feeling. How long before I broke down again and bowed to her bidding? Now that the police were involved, my probation was really on the line. Letting Vicki solve these problems would make my life easier, even if it wasn’t the life I wanted.

  And it would make Nash’s life easier. But it would also prove him right about me. I was a spoiled twenty-five-year-old brat who needed her parents to bail her out.

  Although Renata would say my relationship with Vicki was more codependent than parental.

  The Escalade stopped. I glanced out the window. We were in front of the DeerNose gates.

  “I don’t want to prove him right about me. I want to prove him wrong,” I said, thinking of Nash.

  “Of course,” said Vicki, her eyes back on her phone.

  “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

  Vicki leaned across me to open the door. “I’ll contact you when the new contract’s ready.”

  “I can’t do the show.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. The way things are looking, you’re about to find yourself in front of that judge one way or another. You’re going to need my attorney.” She gave me a sharp look. “And she doesn’t come free.”

  I climbed out and entered Daddy’s security code. The Escalade pulled away and the gate swung open. A small figure surrounded by a pack of smaller figures hurtled down the drive. Reaching me, Remi stomped her scooter’s back brake. It sparked and jerked to a stop. The Jack Russells continued to the gate, barking at the retreating Escalade.

  Remi peered around me. “Who was that?”

  “Vicki.”

  “She didn’t want to come in?”

  I shook my head.

  “Is that why you’re sad?”

  “No, it’s because I’ve let a lot of people down. And every time I try to fix things, I make them worse. It’s so bad I might have to move back to Hollywood.”

  “I thought you weren’t allowed to go back there.”

  “I’m not. That’s how much I’ve screwed up. Bad enough to go to jail. Or let Vicki put me back on the TV show. Which is only slightly better than prison.”

  Remi squinted at me. “How’s that?”

  “If Vicki owns me again, I have to do what she says all the time. Which is like jail. Except she’d probably let me go to Barney’s by myself. Which is better than prison.”

  “Can I visit you in the Vicki jail?”

  I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Daddy wouldn’t want you to visit me in Vicki’s jail. He thinks LA’s not a good place for kids.”

  “Then you shouldn’t go there.”

  “You’re right.” I pinched my thumb, sniffed, then forced a smile. “Julia Pinkerton never let her
sister Amy down. I’ll have to figure something out.”

  “Start with saying you’re sorry. Grownups like that.”

  “My publicist would agree.” I grimaced. “Let’s hope Nash counts as a grownup.”

  The next morning, I wanted to hide in the DeerNose guest room. Or a spa. Instead, I donned a pair of J Brand cropped leather pants, sleeked my strawberry blondes into a tight French braid, and powdered my freckles. That black leather would roast my legs to fricassee in the Georgia June heat, but I could not face another day in my usual Lucky-riding attire.

  If I was going down, I was going down looking good.

  Plus, the sweating I was about to commence might melt off some pounds. Therefore, I sought out Carol Lynn's breakfast victuals in the DeerNose kitchen. I would need all the comfort sustenance I could get before attacking the day.

  Upon seeing my ass-kicking apparel, Remi snorted, inhaling the eggs she had spooned into her mouth.

  While Carol Lynn pounded on her back, Daddy looked up from his coffee and paper.

  "Your probation officer called," he said. "You going to fix this before they throw your butt in the can?"

  "Yes, sir," I said. "I never should have tried to talk to the press in the first place. But I thought I could help Mr. Nash."

  "The longer you wait to gut this thing, the bigger the mess and smell."

  "Um, okay." Daddy's hunting analogies didn't always translate. But I got the gist. Still. Eww.

  After biscuits, bacon, and two sunny side ups, I had some issues getting my left leg over Lucky. An issue with leather I had overlooked. But I would not be deterred. Maybe I did have too much Vicki in me, but Julia Pinkerton would have applauded my can-do-ism. I hoped Nash did as well.

  The sleazier entertainment reporters hung by the DeerNose gates. More credible journalists stalked Nash Security. I kept my helmet on and swished through the door, past the bustling Dixie Kreme Donuts, and up the stairs to Nash Security Solutions. Lamar looked up from the recliner. Nash's inner sanctum door remained closed.