Tired, in no mood for games and subterfuge, she turned into the driveway of a flea-ridden motel off Hollywood Boulevard. One story, with red painted doors facing assigned parking spots, the motel was the sort that charged nominal fees by the night or the hour. Cam tried not to think about the second option.
Although the rooms were cheap, she still wasn’t happy about having to put the charge on her credit card, and grumbled all the way through the check-in process.
With her key in hand, she parked the Fiat in front of door number fifty-two. The parking lot was mostly empty save for a dark van and an old station wagon.
Letting herself into the room, she closed the door and went straight for the air-conditioning unit. The saggy bed, sixties-style décor, and gold draperies were nothing to write home about, but at least the air blew strong and cold.
Just as she started to inspect one of two chairs for bugs, her phone rang. Cam didn’t bother to look at the caller ID when she answered. It was Lark again, she was sure of it. “I don’t want to hear about any more viral articles or pictures. And no, I can’t get home. There must be a million paparazzi parked outside our apartment building.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Castillo. It’s Lenni Marin.”
Fourteen
Camryn froze in place. Lenni. She imagined this conversation wouldn’t go well at all.
“Hello, Lenni.” Camryn’s cheeks flushed at what information she’d inadvertently supplied to the publicist about viral articles, pictures, and hordes of paparazzi. Thankfully, Lenni didn’t mention any of it.
“I have an opportunity to present to you, Ms. Castillo, and was wondering if you’d like to hear the details.”
“I’ll listen to the details, absolutely.” Lenni sounded businesslike and serious, so Cam took the offer at face value. Perhaps this conversation would go much differently than she’d initially imagined.
“Mr. Payne is extending an interview opportunity to you on the set of his next movie. It begins shooting in Switzerland in less than two weeks. Would you be interested in doing a few preshoot sessions, as well as a few exclusive photo sessions on set?” Lenni asked.
At first, Camryn wasn’t sure she heard right. Maximo wanted more interviews with her? On and off set? Right away she knew she couldn’t pass up the offer. It didn’t matter what had or had not happened in Rome. This was business, and she might not get another opportunity like this for years.
Yet she’d mostly maxed out her credit card to pay for the trip to Rome, which left her with very little money to play with. If only she’d known while in Italy, she might have been able to squeeze out a short flight to Switzerland and found a cheap place to stay. Even then, money would have been exceedingly tight. She paced the hotel room, frantically thinking of how to come up with the cash. Any revenue Integrity made from ads wouldn’t be deposited into the business account until next month, which did her no good now.
“When would I need to be in Switzerland?” Camryn asked, buying herself some time to think.
“Eight days. That will give you two or three days for preshooting interviews, then another handful of days once the shooting begins.”
“So we’re looking at a little over a week that I’d be there, correct?” Cam asked. A week in Switzerland. Egad. Dollar signs swam through her mind. At the same time, a swell of excitement expanded her chest. Switzerland!
“Give or take. If you’d like to stay longer, it can be arranged. Mr. Payne has already cleared it with the director,” Lenni said.
“Yes,” Camryn said, strangely out of breath. “I’d love to do it.”
She might have to sell her soul or borrow money from a loan shark. Either way, she would do what she had to.
“Excellent. I’ll e-mail you the location and the travel details. By the way. Mr. Payne insists on paying for the flight and the accommodations.”
“That’s very kind of Mr. Payne,” Camryn said, barely able to contain herself. If Max wanted to pay, she’d let him. “Thanks, Lenni. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Camryn waited until she’d ended the call to squee. She didn’t know why or how or what had happened to change Max’s mind about interviews, but she wasn’t about to complain. No one—no one—had ever interviewed Maximo on set. To post several articles in a row, plus a few movie set stills, would solidify Integrity’s place in the entertainment news industry.
Moments later, Cam had Lark on the line. “You’ll never guess what!”
“Camryn. We need to meet somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the apartment complex,” Lark said.
The dire gravity in Lark’s voice pulled Camryn up short. “Why? What happened?”
“Can’t talk about it over the phone. Meet me at our old rendezvous place in half an hour. Can you do that?”
“I’ll be there.” Frowning, Cam stuffed the phone into her purse and fished out her keys. She left the hotel room with her head down and her sunglasses on, stomach churning with worry.
Whatever news Lark had to deliver, Cam knew it wouldn’t be good.
Dusty’s Burgers was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant just off Sunset Boulevard, the kind of unassuming eatery that appealed to the masses not because of its plain gray facade and bland interior décor, but because the burgers were the best in town. Camryn and Lark had utilized the back parking lot for lunch breaks during their time at Rocket, preferring to sit in an air-conditioned car to eat and gossip without the worry of being overheard.
Camryn backed slowly into an empty spot far from other vehicles and the building itself then cut the engine to wait. She had a good view of the driveway and pedestrian traffic, which gave her an advantage should the paparazzi suddenly descend. That she even had to worry about such a thing was ridiculous. It proved that the power of social media and instant scandal gratification were synonymous with each other, and no one was safe.
Moments later, Lark’s distinctive metallic purple 1970 Monte Carlo pulled into the parking lot. The engine revved twice as Lark maneuvered the vehicle into a spot right next to the Fiat, backing in the same way Camryn had.
Cam unlocked the doors of her car with a push of a button. She glimpsed a manila envelope in Lark’s fingers as the woman, dressed in black and red with her hair spiked in a hundred directions, hastily sank into the passenger’s seat. Lark closed the door and stared out the windshield suspiciously.
“What’s going on? What is that envelope and why do you look like you’re expecting to see a T-Rex suddenly appear on the street?” Camryn asked.
“Lock the doors,” Lark said.
Camryn exhaled, frustrated, but locked the doors nonetheless.
Apparently satisfied that the coast was clear, Lark shifted on the seat until she was facing Camryn. “You have really pissed someone off.”
“Me? What did I do?” Camryn reached over and snatched the envelope right out of Lark’s fingers. She opened the clasp and reached inside.
“I’m not sure if it’s Integrity’s non-harassment policy, or the way you conduct your interviews, or . . . I don’t know. Could be the stuff with Denny. But someone is seriously angry,” Lark said.
Camryn pulled out three grainy black and white photographs. The contents sent a shockwave from her head to her toes. Each picture depicted Camryn in a different sexual position with a male partner—beneath, on top, against the wall—with an emphasis on just how much she was apparently enjoying herself.
Except those were not her boobs, and that was not her ass. And really, she would have remembered a romp with a guy built like that.
“Close your mouth. You look like a fish,” Lark said. “There’s more.” She reached inside the envelope and pulled out a small printed note that Camryn had missed.
“But . . . but . . . this isn’t even me! I mean, it sort of looks like me, kind of, but not exactly—where did these come from?” Camryn couldn’t get past the horrifying photographs, much less pay attention to the note.
“I don’t know. Like I said, you’ve upset someone’s apple cart. Here.
Read it.” Lark thrust the paper under Cam’s nose.
Camryn set the photographs on her lap and took the small square piece of paper. It read:
There are more where these came from. You have 48 hours to take Integrity offline, or these will go public. If you bring the authorities into it, they will also go public, followed by one release every week. Your choice.
Cam read the note three times. She was so appalled she could barely breathe. Although she knew the woman in the photos wasn’t her, the resemblance was close enough that the world would not question the authenticity. She suspected there might have been a bit of photoshopping involved to enhance the similarities in profile and shape of the face.
“So I was in the shower, right? And the doorbell starts ringing. It took me less than five minutes to dry off and dress, but of course no one was there when I opened the door. This was taped over the peephole. No name on the front, no indication where it came from,” Lark said with a gesture to the envelope.
“This isn’t even me!” Camryn repeated.
“No, but they’ve manipulated it to look like you. And I’m sure they can use recent pictures of your face to superimpose over even more suggestive poses.”
“Yes, my deer-in-the-headlights expression should go well with this kind of thing.” Camryn couldn’t help the steady drip of sarcasm. She glanced at Lark. “It’s Denny, isn’t it? He’s mad because I called him out.”
“I don’t know. It seems like he’s the only one with motive, but . . . it’s impossible to say for sure. I mean, he’s gotten quite a bit of attention over all this, too, even if most of it was negative after your article. It could be another photographer, angry that you’re calling out their stalker-like practices,” Lark said.
Camryn braced her elbow on the windowsill and rubbed her forehead. She had a massive headache building behind her eyes. “Well, I know this. I’m not taking Integrity down. If these people follow through and post these pictures, then I’ll have to deal with the fallout. But I won’t bow to their demands.”
“I didn’t think you would. What’s the plan, then? If we think it’s busy outside our apartment complex now, it’ll be twice as busy if these photos go live.”
“I got a room at the Hollywood View Hotel.” Camryn held up a hand to stall Lark’s protests. “Yes, I know, it’s a rathole. So far, no one knows I’m there. What I need you to do is take my recorder, translate Prescott’s interview, and post it, then pack me a bag, my computer, and a few other essentials and bring it to the room. Is that all right? I don’t want to go anywhere near the apartment right now.”
“How long are you going to stay away? I can write up the article, no problem.”
“I think I’ll try to come back around three or four in the morning. I have another article to write from last week’s interview, plus a trip to plan for.” Cam slid the offending photos back into the envelope.
“What trip?”
“That’s what I started to tell you on the phone. Lenni called. Maximo is offering me an exclusive interview opportunity in Switzerland on the set of his next movie. He’s paying for the flight and the room,” Cam said. Her former glee and excitement had been vanquished by the threats and photos in her hands.
Lark’s mouth fell open. “What? He’s flying you to Switzerland? Everyone’s been talking about his upcoming movie, but all the details have been hush-hush. Even if it puts you right back in the spotlight, we can’t pass this up.”
“I know. That’s what I thought, too. Despite the tabloids running wild and social media going haywire with speculation, this series of interviews could really cement our upward trajectory. I’m going. I just need to figure a way to hide it from the media.” Camryn slid the envelope between the seat and the console. She wouldn’t be letting it out of her sight for the time being.
“I’ll help. I can drop a few red herrings online. Sightings here, a planned interview there. Keep the paparazzi diverted so you can do what you need to. They’re smart, though, and cunning, so you’ll still have to watch your back,” Lark said.
“I know. I remember how it was when we were at Rocket. I’m leaving in eight days, so I have to work with Lenni to book everything and figure out how I want to conduct these interviews with Maximo.” Cam couldn’t even say his name without experiencing a little jolt of pleasure.
He’s with Raquel, remember, she reminded herself.
“Don’t worry about the interviews we have set up between now and then, and after you leave. I can take care of it. I won’t finesse the same types of answers out of the interviewees, but since they’re all C- or D-listers, it doesn’t really matter anyway. People will be waiting to see any other news about Maximo, you, or Raquel.”
“I wonder if she’ll be there,” Cam said, musing to herself.
“Raquel? In Switzerland? Maybe. Those would be some prime shots—”
“Lark. I’m not going to compromise his trust after he invited me back again. I’ll make each interview with him so revealing and exciting that people will tune in for that all by itself,” Camryn said. “And you never know. He may be planning to reveal the relationship once and for all in a setting he’s comfortable with.”
“A twofer. That would be awesome. Okay, I’m going. Don’t call or text really personal information for the time being. I’m paranoid and worried someone’s monitoring the calls. What room at the View?” Lark asked, fingers gripping the door handle.
“Fifty-four. Try to come before it gets too late, okay? I’m going to go crazy with nothing to do.” It wasn’t as if she had a room overlooking a pretty pool or manicured gardens.
“I’ll hurry. Keep your head down.” Lark exited the car and crossed to her own. Soon after, the Monte Carlo roared out of the parking lot.
Cam started the Fiat and waited five minutes before following.
All she had to do was stay out of sight for the next seven days, and hope the perpetrator of the threat didn’t release the scandalous photos into the wild.
Fifteen
Maximo stood on the balcony of a rented chalet, breathing in the fresh alpine air of Engelberg, Switzerland. Unlike the hectic streets of Rome, Engelberg was a small laid-back town. Nestled between the Alps, the city oozed charm and provided stunning views in every direction. Grassy meadows and jagged mountain ranges were offset by traditional brown and white or rustic wood homesteads dotted throughout the landscape. The weather was a perfect seventy-one degrees.
He’d arrived several days early, having been anxious to leave Italy once his whereabouts leaked to the media. Raquel had gone on to a smaller northern Italian town in hopes of finding a little peace and quiet.
Sipping from a mug of hot coffee, Maximo thought about the debacle involving Camryn and some other hotshot reporter from Rocket. He’d initially been less than pleased when photos of him and Raquel hit the wire, along with the one of him dumped over in a chair. Finding out that the photos had been stolen appeased some of his ire, but not all of it. He still wanted answers and meant to get them directly from Camryn herself. The woman was an enigma. He couldn’t get his mind off her no matter how hard he tried, which led to him questioning his motives where she was concerned. It was unusual for him to be this intrigued after only knowing someone a short time. If they hadn’t spent all day together touring and traveling in Italy, he doubted he would have this level of interest.
Or maybe there’s something special about her that’s missing in most of the women you meet, he thought to himself.
Turning back to the chalet, he entered through an open sliding glass door and carried his mug to a small round table against the wall. Rented out for certain members of the cast and crew, the large chalet boasted twelve rooms, a common living area capable of seating at least fifty people, and a fully equipped kitchen staffed by personnel hired to provide meals for the stars and staff. He didn’t mind the communal living as long as he had his own dedicated room to return to at the end of the day. A room had been set aside downstairs for Camryn, and althou
gh she wasn’t due to arrive for another four days, Max was already making plans for their interviews.
Little did she know that he meant to utilize these meetings to break a bit of news to the world which would hopefully get the media off his back and, in turn, help boost her fledgling magazine.
Timing was everything.
Camryn spent the seven days until her departure dodging paparazzi, worrying over the threat, and packing for the trip. She’d managed to slip into her complex in the wee hours of the second night, suffering three photos that made it onto the Internet. Of course, journalists were still speculating about a twosome, threesome, cheaters, liars, and every other imaginable scenario concerning her, Max, and Raquel.
Right then, all she cared about was that the fake photos weren’t released. And they hadn’t been, leading Camryn to believe that the threats were a bluff, perhaps to take a competitive entertainment site offline. She remained cautiously optimistic that the pictures would remain unpublished.
To try and throw the paparazzi off, Camryn had Lark meet up with her outside the complex to deliver her suitcase on the way to the airport; the photographers would know exactly where she was going if she left the building towing luggage.
The ruse worked until someone spotted her at the airport itself, but she kept her head down and made it through security with no trouble. Once at her gate, she hid behind an open newspaper until boarding time.
How ridiculous. The lengths she had to go to just to do normal, everyday things were like trying to get in and out of NORAD undetected. Never would she have imagined that she would become the focus of Hollywood gossip.
Once on the aircraft, she settled into her first-class seat with a sigh of relief. There were still two plane changes ahead, and hours upon hours of flying, but at least she felt more contained and less conspicuous.
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