For a moment, Alexandra realized she was sitting in a limousine. This would not help if she wanted to stay incognito. She asked the driver if he had a personal car. He told her he did—a blue Ford sedan.
That’s more like it.
She asked him to use it instead whenever she phoned to be driven around. He hesitated, but when she offered him double his daily rate to cover the extra expenses, he agreed. Climbing out of the limo with the large backpack as luggage, she ran up to the door. She rang the bell nervously, blowing warm air on her long, slender fingers. Arizona at night was colder; nothing like Beverly Hills during the early summer.
Rosa opened the door. The platinum blonde wore a tangerine pantsuit and a concerned look.
“Hello. How can I help you?” She looked past Alexandra as stood at the doorstep. “Are you selling something? I may be able to spare a few dollars. How much is it, young man?”
“Rosa,” she said. “It’s me.”
Rosa stepped back and peered at her again. Her mouth dropped open in surprise when she finally recognized who was standing in front of her.
“Alexandra? Oh my gosh! I didn’t even recognize you! What a clever disguise!”
Alexandra whipped off the baseball cap with a sheepish smile. Soon her smile became sober. She stepped inside and turned around to face her, thankful Rosa dared to go against Dad’s orders to let her know about his illness.
“Where is he?” she asked softly.
“At Carondelet St. Joseph’s. I was just headed there. I came by the house to pick up a few things for him. Do you want to ride with me?”
Rosa held an overnight bag and her car keys. Alexandra nodded. She hurried back to the limo driver and let him know she would call him sometime the next day. She reminded him not to come with the limo. She jogged over to Rosa’s SUV and climbed inside. As she got into the vehicle, she noticed a neighbor across the street. He was about to get into a pickup truck. He watched them curiously. Alexandra tugged her hat down lower on her head.
The drive to the hospital was marked by a solemn conversation about her father’s rapidly deteriorating. Rosa sniffled, retelling how they had initially thought he had a bad cold, until he passed out in the night while going to the bathroom. She nodded, silently noting Rosa’s absentminded confession. She had to have spent the night, and now it was confirmed—Rosa was her dad’s significant other. It all made sense, and easily explained why she was just as shaken by the situation as Alexandra was.
“How long was he sick before he was hospitalized?”
“Over a week. The doctor at the hospital said your father’s immune system was weakened by the medications for his rheumatoid arthritis.”
Alexandra covered her mouth, trying not to fall apart. She did her best to mirror the calm demeanor Rosa was modeling, but inside she was out of her mind with worry. She was not prepared for this. She could not imagine a future without her father.
I have to hold on to hope.
When they arrived at the private room in the ICU at the state of the art hospital, it all became irrevocably real. Maxwell Storme was a bear of a man when healthy, a burly six and a half feet tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, but his illness had taken a terrible toll on him all of a sudden. In fact, her father looked like an entirely different man from the person she saw six months before at Christmas.
The stark white room was chilly and impersonal. Nurses moved soundlessly through the halls like ghost. Voices whispered, feet silent. The ICU was eerily quiet for such a busy place. Alexandra wanted to scream. It felt exactly like a place where people came to die.
Stop being so morbid, she silently warned herself. He’s going to be fine.
She wished she could take him out of the room and whisk him back home where he belonged. Standing there, she felt like she had when she was fourteen, watching her mother in a similar bed, looking just as depleted. Fate had snuffed out the brightest light in her world. She could not imagine losing her father too. Suddenly the sobs would not stop, and tears poured down her cheeks.
I might soon be parentless.
It was the coldest, loneliest realization.
The beeping buzzes of equipment made her skin crawl. Her pulse raced with fear. She stepped forward on unsteady legs, vision blurring as she tried to look at her father. He was frail and small, a shell of the size he had been when she last saw him. His skin was so pale, too pale. It could not be healthy.
She clutched his hand desperately, feeling the bones of his fingers, and after a short while, let out another agonized sob.
“How could you keep this from me, Daddy?”
He could not answer—there were tubes up his nostrils and down his throat—but he opened his weak blue eyes. He raised his frail hand, and she could tell he was surprised and pleased to see her, from the creasing of his forehead, widening of his eyes, the way his lips curled upward.
“I’m so glad you’re awake, Daddy,” she whispered, trying to be strong. “I wish you would have told me sooner.”
His smile grew slightly.
“This is just like you, getting sick so you can get me to come home,” she said, hoping to lighten her mood and his.
Rosa stepped up behind her, quiet and still. “He didn’t want to interfere with your music. You were working on a new album, and he wanted to wait and see how things turned out before getting you worried. I’m afraid the wait and see approach did not work so well. All of this happened so suddenly. We never expected...”
Alexandra choked back a sob. Her father made Rosa hide his illness. He had always fought hard to protect his privacy, and with Alexandra around—as Lexxi Rock, with swarms of media and paparazzo—there would be no such thing.
“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered with a shake of her head. She turned back to gaze up at Rosa. “Thank you for telling me.” The middle-aged woman smiled tightly and squeezed her shoulder, slipping from the darkened room to give Alexandra and her father some time alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SEBASTIAN lounged back in the armchair under the breeze of the ceiling fan. He was at his retired ex-coworker’s house. It was another day in a long stretch of days off. He relaxed his long legs and looked at the TV setup. A cable box archaically sported a twisted wire hanger. He shook his head and gave a snort of amusement when he noticed the program on TV.
“Guess who’s living it up in the French Riviera? Our cameras caught rock star Lexxi Rock poolside with a handful of her socialite friends at a hotel in the exotic locale! Rumor has it she’s completely over her breakup with cheater, Wilkes Barracks…” The low volume of the television was drowned out by the sound of a vacuum cleaner in the next room.
Ice clinked and the last droplets of iced tea sloshed to his lips as Sebastian took a sip from his glass. After his daily workout in the gym in his basement, he had gone over to his old friend Clint’s house. It was a lazy Saturday morning; exactly how he liked to spend his time when he had weekends off. They talked about old times while Clint’s girlfriend, Beth, did housework in the other rooms. Sebastian did his best to visit a few times every month so Clint didn’t have to feel so isolated, holed up in the house after his devastating injury.
The tidy living room was crowded with a bulky teal sectional, an overstuffed armchair, and too many houseplants. Beth had added tiny touches with hand-sewn flower print curtains, the plants, and framed classical art prints on the wall. The smell of whatever they would have for lunch permeated the air.
There were many evenings spent in his buddy’s living room over the years; mostly taking in sporting events and joking about their friends work. These days Sebastian only visited sporadically and although he felt guilty about it he couldn’t help it. Their lives had gone off in different directions. He was happy to still call Clint Caleb his friend after everything that had happened.
Sebastian looked over at Clint. “Why do you watch this crap, man? Put it on ESPN or something.”
“What? It’s entertainment.” Clint laughed. Crow’s-feet crinkled
around his eyes, and his belly shook. He puzzled over celebrity segments, scratching at his shiny bald head. “I like to keep up with the celebrity news, you know? But don’t tell the guys, though. Keep that on the QT. If anybody asks, Beth was watching this.”
“What the hell do you find entertaining about celebrities? Most of it isn’t real. After all, they’re just people.”
“They’re not just people. Look at them. They’re in a different world from everyone else.”
“Last time I checked, the media still covered planet earth, buddy.”
“Don’t bust my balls. You know what I meant. And besides, have you ever seen any of them in our part of the world? Name one.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Case closed then.”
“Okay, okay. For the sake of putting this shit to rest, here’s an example. I grew up with that girl they were just talking about…right here in Tucson. In real life, she’s just another pretty girl with a nice voice.”
“No kidding. Lexxi Rock? Get out of town. I never knew that.” Clint shook his head and said, “Nah, you probably read that somewhere. No way you know her personally. You would have told me before.”
“I’m serious. She was Alexandra Storme back when I knew her. As a matter of fact, her dad is still my neighbor. Damn, time flies. That had to be…what, eight years ago. She went to school out west, and fell off my radar completely. But man, she was hot back then. Next thing I know, I’m hearing her songs on the radio, and she’s all over the celebrity news.”
“You’re telling me that if we ran across Lexxi Rock right now, she’d recognize your ugly mug?” Clint crossed his beefy arms, showing off expanse of colorful tattoo art. He grinned in disbelief. “That’s pretty crazy.”
“Hmmm. I don’t know if she’d recognize me. I look so different now. Who knows? We went to the same high school, but she was one of the popular chicks. If she noticed me back then, it was because I was an awkward looking douchebag with pimples and a bowl-cut. Trust me, you don’t want to see the yearbook pictures.”
“And, look at you now, Bash. You’ve got a never ending trail of hot chicks in and out of your house at all hours. Chicks dig firefighters. I wish I was still—ah, well, I told you, you need to hook me up and show me your workout routine. If I shed about thirty or forty pounds, I might still be able to catch up.”
“Yeah, right. I’m so much of a stud, the guys down at the firehouse want me to try out speed dating.”
Clint looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“I might have to get the guys to pick me up for that show.”
Sebastian shook his head, chuckling. “Not a chance!” He leaned back in his chair as the entertainment news anchor went to commercial break. “I can’t believe she’s out partying in the Riviera while her dad’s here in the hospital.”
“What are you going on about?”
“I saw them pick her dad up by ambulance the other night. I wonder how he’s holding up. Alexandra was never selfish like that. It doesn’t seem like the girl I remember, but I guess it’s like they say. Money changes people.”
“I thought you said she was one of the popular girls.”
“Yeah. She was pretty hot. Even back then she could sing her ass off….” He patted his pockets absently, feeling for his always-misplaced phone, unable to find it as usual. “Hey, what time is it? I have to be back at the house before noon. I’m expecting a delivery.”
Clint checked his watch and whistled. “You’re cutting it close, brother. You might want to head out now. I happen to know from experience, them UPS guys won’t leave that blow-up doll waiting on the porch for you. You got to be there to sign for it.”
“Yeah, you would know.” Sebastian playfully jabbed Clint in the shoulder and got up, sauntering past him. “I’m off, buddy. Are you still coming to the firehouse shindig at my place this weekend?”
“Yeah. We’ll be there.”
“Great. Be there by five. We’re getting Jeff’s retirement party kicked off early Friday night since his geriatric ass goes to bed before eight o’clock these days. And, bring Beth with you this time, would you? You don’t want her thinking I’m getting you out of the house to pick up chicks, you jerk.”
Clint wheeled around the card table in his electric wheelchair and followed Sebastian to the door. “Nah. She understands. She gets girls nights, and sometimes I want to hang with the guys. I’ll bring her for sure. Can’t wait to see that old fart, Jeff. I wonder what he’s going to do when he isn’t working anymore,” Clint said pensively. “This job gets in your bones, and soon it’s hard to separate it from the man. Even if you don’t have an ending like mine, it’s hard to give it up and move on to something else.”
Sebastian stood at Clint’s front door. He looked back to survey his older friend who lost both his legs fighting a fire at his side a few years back. It tore at his chest. Clint’s world had been so drastically changed by their line of work, and no matter how many visits he made, he would never get used to seeing him like that.
“I’ll see you later, buddy,” he said softly. “Take care.”
Clint shook his head and let out a wry laugh. “Don’t give me that ‘sorry for you’ look, Bash. Stop that shit. I’m glad you dropped by. Take care of yourself, and make sure you bear down and get that knee checked out like you’re supposed to. Jesus H. Christ, you need a woman to keep you in line. Hey, why don’t you invite over a plus-one for next weekend.”
“You’re kidding me, right? I don’t need a plus-one from my phone list. Besides, I’m feeling pretty confident about that speed dating thing.” He gave Clint an eye roll.
Other than Sebastian, Clint rarely got visits from the rest of the old crew. Few of the guys made it out to see him. It was too much of a reminder of what could happen to any one of them on any given day. The line of work they were in had a tendency to kill and maim. Sebastian worked his knee, flexing the leg up and down to loosen the stiffness. Coming out to see Clint was almost too much, but his loyalty went too deep to abandon the mentor who gave him hands-on training back when he was a rookie firefighter.
“See you later, man.”
He made his way down the ramp to his Jeep with a mild limp. The pain in his leg was a lot less disabling since he had started physical therapy. With a sigh, he shook off his mood and drove home. As he pulled up to the house, he noticed someone he didn’t recognize, sitting on Maxwell Storme’s front porch. As self-appointed neighborhood watchman and curious cat, Sebastian studied the teenage-looking stranger.
He climbed out of his Jeep and waved at the kid. Then, he squinted. The kid’s face was…vaguely familiar.
“Afternoon!” he called out, deciding to step over and be neighborly—and to get a closer look. He smiled pleasantly and moved across the narrow stretch of grass separating his house from Mr. Storme’s.
“Hi there! How’s it going? Sorry for bothering you, but I was expecting a package today…and um…” he trailed off, mouth wide open, finger pointing back to his house. He dropped his hand, losing his train of thought entirely.
What is Alexandra Storme doing sitting in front of her dad’s house? Isn’t she supposed to be on the French Riviera? And…why the hell is she dressed like a teenage boy?
Sebastian pushed his fingers through his dark hair, rubbing at the back of his neck, trying to figure out what was really going on. “Um…did you see a delivery guy stop by?” He tried to recover.
Her glossy, black hair fell around her face in short, tousled curls. Wide indigo eyes with an upward tilt stared out from her face, and her pale pink lips slightly parted in surprise at being addressed.
“Oh, I’ve only been out here for a minute,” she stammered. “I’m waiting for my da—for my uncle’s assistant to get here so we can go to the hospital.”
Sebastian could tell she was trying to deepen her voice, but it was not nearly masculine enough. Not by a longshot. He moved his gaze up and down, from he
r AC/DC t-shirt to her baggy jeans and Chuck Taylor sneakers. She could easily pass for a boy from a hundred feet away, but having grown up living next door to Alexandra Storme, he was not fooled. He had pictured that face so many times as a teenager, he could have drawn her from memory. The triangular tip of her nose, the slightly full chin with a hint of a dimple in the center, the lips he pictured kissing—she was the same girl.
Only…in disguise?
He made a snap decision to play along. She had to have her reasons. He thought about the entertainment channel he had been watching at Clint’s, and figured it had something to do with avoiding the media. Still, he couldn’t resist asking a few questions to feed his own rabid curiosity about what she was doing here—dressed as a boy, purple hair gone and replaced by the short black curls.
“I’m sorry, I’ve never seen you around here before. I’m pretty good friends with my neighbor, Max. I was just wondering if you two are related? You kind of look like him. And don’t mind me if I’m asking too many questions.” He scanned her face, turning away to hide a smirk. Out across the yard, the convenient sound of a neighbor starting a lawn mower helped him hide some of his amusement.
Alexandra squirmed when he looked back at her.
Did she just check me out?
He smiled broadly, unable to contain it anymore. He could tell she was not at all comfortable speaking to him. Her eyes shifted around as if looking for some escape.
“I’m…uh…I’m his nephew, Alex Roberts.” Her cheeks glowed pink, now that she had just got caught checking him out.
Sebastian suppressed a laugh, and stuck out his arm for a handshake. “I’m Sebastian Sullivan. Everyone calls me Bash. So, you’re related to his late wife?”
He knew the entire family. Juniper Roberts-Storme had been close friends with his mother before her passing. Maxwell Storme was a little less sociable, and Alexandra Storme was…well, she was a famous rock star sitting on the front stoop of her old house, trying to pass for a guy.
Disguise Page 6