Star Bright

by Shelly Greene

  It was true, he wasn’t in the contacts, but Julian did find a text conversation. A short one, centered around that tabloid story about Julian being a “rage junkie.” Rafi said that hadn’t been his experience of Julian’s behavior, and brushed Uncle off when he made a bid for more intimate conversation. I’d rather talk to Julian about it, he’d said, and he’d proceeded to do exactly that. In a way, seeing that made Julian feel better than not finding anything at all.

  Could there be a second phone, some channel for secret messages, indirect contact? How much subterfuge was Rafi Reyes capable of?

  Who is more likely to lie to you, his own mind whispered to him, Rafi or Uncle Eddie?

  But this wasn’t Uncle claiming anything; it was the evidence of Julian’s own eyes and ears. And he’d been gaslighted enough times in his life, Uncle telling him what he saw before his face wasn’t really happening. He wasn’t going to do it to himself.

  If Uncle did tell me he had Rafi in his pocket, Julian thought with grim humor, that’s how I would know it wasn’t true.

  “Do you believe me?” Rafi said, the words almost a plea.

  “I want to believe you,” Julian said, and that was almost a plea, too. I want to have something in my life that Uncle can’t ruin. I want to prove myself wrong, to trust someone and not be burned for it. I want to keep what I thought we were, together.

  “How about if I help you track him down and beat him to a pulp?” Rafi said. “Would that convince you?”

  Julian half-laughed, brief and wet, and it felt like letting go of something that was hurting his hands to hold. He released Rafi’s wrist, only to tangle their fingers together instead. “No. The one we need to track down is Christian. My uncle will be looking for him, and we have to find him first.”

  Chapter 11

  BO THOMAS VS. JULIAN GAULT: Who Did It Better?

  Bo Thomas and Julian Gault have a lot of similarities these days—romantic entanglements with the same man, similar reputations for coldness and spite, and even an eerie resemblance in their fashion choices! Here at Us Weekly we couldn’t resist the chance to compare these two stars and ask—Who Did It Better?

  (1) Feuding with Colleagues! Back in February, photographer Albert Heston made waves by tweeting unflattering (and sometimes hilarious) shots of Bo, a sort of blooper reel from her Glamour magazine shoot. The ensuing Twitter fight reached epic proportions. Heston apologized in the end; Bo didn’t accept it, but she did let the conflict die.

  [Twitter screenshots]

  In contrast, Julian’s most famous feud—with co-star Cassie Bayles—took place largely IRL, reaching the world’s ears through a production assistant’s surreptitious audio recording. Julian was rocketed to the wrong sort of fame for insulting, cursing at and even spitting on the unlucky Miss Bayles—

  [embedded link to audio]

  —only for the truth to come out earlier this month. Julian’s claims that Cassie had earned his ire by causing the death of a horse on the set of Gunpowder were substantiated by cast and crew members, such as this extra who came forward to defend Julian last week.

  [embedded video]

  Winner? We’re giving this one to Julian. From “outrageous jerk” to “outraged animal-lover” is too big a turnaround to ignore!

  (2) Braids and Sparkles! Bo and Julian’s fashion similarity is highlighted in these shots from the 2018 Grammys and 2019 Academy Awards, respectively, where each sported intricate braided hairstyles and—yes, that is the very same Oscar de la Renta sequined jacket!

  [photos]

  Winner? Bo wore it first and best—sorry, Jules!

  (3) Dumping Rafael Reyes! After years of on-again off-again, Bo and Rafi got engaged last January. Bo not only pulled the plug on the relationship only six months later, but immediately got engaged again—to Rafi’s brother, Carlos! Now expecting Carlos’s baby, Bo could hardly have stomped her former beloved’s heart more thoroughly.

  [photo of Bo holding hands with Rafi]

  [photo of Bo holding hands with Carlos]

  These were taken one week apart. We are not kidding.

  Then again, at least Bo didn’t dump Rafi in front of a dozen cameras! Two days ago, Julian Gault did just that, ending a whirlwind courtship that took the Internet by storm. During an apparent Walk of Shame outside Rafi’s apartment building, Julian insulted his now-ex’s integrity, personality, career, and “bed performance” (!!!) on film for the world to see.

  [photos]

  Winner? It’s a tie! Julian and Bo have both achieved new levels of scandal with their shocking behavior. Keep it classy, guys!

  * * * *

  When I’m weak, I keep the strength

  Just to cling to you

  You bind my wounds, you hold me up, you shield me from the storm

  And when you’re weak, you turn to me

  I’m always there for you

  I’ll have your back, I’ll fight the fight, I’ll keep you safe and warm

  —“Troubled Times,” from Epicurious by Distant Kingdom

  * * * *

  “Call Christian, see where he is,” Rafi said as they left Aaron in the care of Tasha and the doctor the concierge had summoned.

  “I can’t,” Julian said, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “My phone is broken. I dropped it.”

  “Use mine, then,” Rafi said, handing it over and pushing the elevator button for the parking garage.

  “Christian doesn’t pick up unknown numbers, not since a stalker incident last year. He even filters his texts.”

  Rafi made a frustrated noise. “Whose number would he answer? Lyle?”

  “Lyle’s too risky if he’s stuck at Uncle’s side. And Christian hates Robert.”

  “Who? Never mind. What about Tasha?”

  “Maybe. I’ll have her try.” Julian dialed Tasha’s number on Rafi’s phone.

  By the time Julian got off the phone with Tasha, they had reached Rafi’s car.

  “My place,” Julian said. “Surely he would go there first, although he can’t get in. I haven’t given him the new key yet.” He raked hair out of his face. “If I’d just given him a key, he’d be safe inside…”

  “Hey.” Rafi paused to look Julian in the eye before pulling into traffic. “None of this is your fault. You understand that, right? Not Christian, not Aaron, none of it.”

  “Can you go any faster?” Julian said.

  They made it to Julian’s apartment in record time, but there was no sign of Christian in or around it. Julian took the opportunity to throw a white button-up over the tank top and to pick up his phone—but it was beyond any hope of making a call.

  “You…dropped it,” Rafi said, staring at the phone’s mangled remains.

  “With prejudice,” Julian said.

  Rafi chose not to ask about the bloody glass on the bed.

  The doorman hadn’t seen Christian, but the shift had changed since Julian left; he made the man call up his predecessor.

  “Oh, the kid you have over so much? Yeah, he did come by. Not long after you left.”

  Rafi, leaning in close to hear, saw Julian’s knuckles go white on the telephone. “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know, sir. You weren’t home and he didn’t have a key—you know our policy—so he left. Didn’t say where he was going.”

  Julian hung up and began to pace the lobby.

  “Doesn’t he have friends, other kids he might go to?” Rafi asked.

  “He doesn’t get on well with other kids. He doesn’t get on well with people, period.”

  Rafi’s phone rang. “Tasha! Did you get in touch with Christian?”

  “No, he hasn’t answered. But I did hear from Lyle. Uncle Eddie managed to track Christian’s phone—they’re headed for somewhere in Chelsea.”

  “Chelsea?” Rafi smacked the wall in a surge of epiphany. There was one person Christian got on well with. “Amber lives in Chelsea.”

  * * * *

  Rafi had to turn on his headlights as they hauled ta
il to Amber’s Chelsea townhouse; for all that it was barely four, the sky was dark and thick with clouds, threatening rain any moment.

  “—and if you hear from Christian, let us know, and for God’s sake don’t let my uncle near him.” Julian jabbed the end button on his phone.

  “She’s probably still talking to the lawyers,” Rafi sighed. “Too polite to check her phone during a meeting.”

  A text arrived with a tiny chime; Julian opened it and swore.

  “What is it?”

  “Tasha screenshotted a text from Lyle. It says, ‘Uncle ditched me, he has a fucking piano wire, I don’t know what’s going down but I’m calling the police.’”

  Rafi began weaving faster through traffic.

  * * * *

  Amber’s townhouse was a picturesque little thing, cream-colored with bay windows and arched doorways. Not a single light shone through the fitful rain; no one home. Rafi pulled into Amber’s parking spot, and Julian leaped from the car before it came to a full stop.

  Stairs led from the sidewalk to the door; Rafi caught up with Julian poking through the bit of garden next to them. “Did you find something?”

  Julian held up an empty Red Vines bag. “Christian’s favorite. Not proof, but I’m willing to bet he’s been here.”

  Rafi turned in a slow circle, surveying their surroundings. “He might wait in the park,” he said, pointing across the street, where paths wound through trees and greenery.

  “If so, he’ll be seeking shelter soon,” Julian said, jerking his chin at the sky. The rain was getting worse. “We’d better hurry.”

  They jogged across the street, and split up with a silent glance and gesture. The park was emptying fast, a few stragglers still gathering up picnics and volleyballs, holding newspapers over their heads. Rafi kept his eyes peeled for a thirteen-year-old boy.

  There—could that be him? Through a thickening veil of rain, he saw a slight figure in a black bomber jacket, sitting on a bench. Rafi waved at the boy, who cocked his head and stood up, moving toward him.

  “Julian,” Rafi called over his shoulder. “Julian! I think I found him!”

  Through the trees, a couple paths away, a fiery head going dark with water turned and hurried his direction. Rafi didn’t wait, jogging toward Christian, but Julian caught up quickly.

  “That’s him, I know that jacket,” Julian said, and relaxed a little—

  Just as Uncle Eddie, unmistakable with his dark beard and retiree’s figure, darted out of the shadows behind the boy and grabbed him with something around his throat.

  “Christian!”

  Rafi wasn’t sure which of them shouted it, but the sound didn’t travel far through the now-pouring rain. They both ran, cutting the corners of the paths and splashing in puddles, straining to see where the two of them had gone.

  “There!” Julian cried, pointing.

  Eddie, whom Rafi could only assume didn’t know he’d been seen, was dragging Christian into a niche behind a statue. Christian was fighting, scrabbling at his throat—and then, from one step to the next, he went limp, hands falling.

  Rafi and Julian reached the pair of them at almost the same moment, and tackled them to the ground. Rafi punched Eddie in the face, twice, three times, the shock of impact opening the man’s hands while Julian pulled Christian away from him. Rafi could only spare a glance—but lightning flashed, illuminating the blood pouring from Christian’s throat. With a roar of rage, Rafi turned back to Eddie, who was thrashing and trying to get away. A few more blows to the face put a stop to that, and a jab to the kidney for good measure. Rafi flipped Eddie onto his stomach in the mud and knelt with all his weight on the man’s back, both arms yanked up behind him.

  Eddie was shouting something, garbled by rain and mud and probably broken teeth. What little crowd the park held was quickly gathering around them in alarm.

  “Call 911,” Julian barked at the nearest bystander, a blonde woman watching with both hands over her mouth. She nodded frantically and pulled out her phone. Other phones were coming out as well.

  “We need to maintain an airway,” Julian said, voice distant, pressing his white button-up to Christian’s throat. It was rapidly soaking through with red. “You there, hold that umbrella over us. Christian, can you hear me? Can you breathe?”

  Christian inhaled, a strained, frantic, whistling sound. His eyes were huge, face pale, body writhing in panic while Julian tried to hold him still. Something was clutched in his hand, something he was trying to shove into Julian’s grip. Rafi, making sure Eddie was securely pinned down, reached out to take it, since Julian couldn’t.

  It was another Red Vines bag, emptied of candy and filled with something else. A folded wad of papers.

  “We’ve got it, Christian,” Rafi said. “Look, I’m putting it in my shirt so it won’t get wet. We know how important it is, and we’ve got it.”

  The boy seemed to relax a little, still gasping and choking on every breath.

  “I’m here, Christian, I’m right here,” Julian said. “I’m not going to let you die.”

  They heard sirens, and then saw lights, and finally an ambulance pulled up to the nearest curb. Two paramedics with loud, stern voices swooped in with equipment and bandages and oxygen. They swarmed around Christian, displacing Julian, who stepped back with blood-spattered arms tight around himself. The wet streaks on his face might, perhaps, have been rain.

  “Did you see that?” Rafi said to Uncle Eddie. “The evidence he stole from you? We have it, and we’re going to use it to destroy you.”

  “It won’t stick,” Eddie said, grinning through bloodied teeth. “Nothing ever sticks to me. Isn’t that right, Julian? It never has before, has it?”

  Julian stepped closer, looking down at his uncle without expression.

  Eddie’s smile broadened. “You’ll never be free of me, boy, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t tried. Do you know how many powerful people I have dancing to my tune? Do you think there’s anyone you can really trust? You think your boyfriend here isn’t in my pocket? You think he hasn’t been giving me what I wanted all along?”

  Rafi opened his mouth on a hot protest—but Julian just smiled, cold and serene, and said, “I don’t believe you, Uncle. Not anymore.”

  Police cars were pulling up to the scene now, as the paramedics loaded Christian into the ambulance. Julian dropped Eddie from his attention and hurried over toward the ambulance.

  “Are you family?” one of the paramedics asked.

  Christian struggled out of his oxygen mask. “Yes! He’s family.”

  “Get in, then.”

  Julian climbed into the ambulance, looking back at Rafi as the doors closed between them.

  Then they were gone, and police were shouting at Rafi to put up his hands.

  * * * *

  Rafi had been answering questions at the police station for an hour when Helen Rhodes arrived, sent by Julian. As legal counsel went, she turned out to be of limited use, as the police quickly cottoned on that she was involved in all this, too. Soon they were being questioned together.

  Helen confirmed that the papers Christian had been carrying were stolen from her safe. Julian’s father had given them to her for safekeeping just days before he was killed.

  “When Julian turned twenty-one, some of Alan’s papers became relevant again, and while going through them I came across the old mystery,” Helen said. “It had always bothered me, not knowing what that list meant, or what the key went to—you’ll find there’s a safety deposit box key taped to one of the papers. I knew they were important to Alan, I felt certain he meant for me to do something with them, but I never knew what. So I called Eddie and asked if he knew anything about them. He said no.”

  “And then a week later,” said the detective questioning them, “your safe was robbed and your house burned down.”

  Helen nodded grimly. “I have since,” she added in clipped tones, “figured out what that list meant. As we’ve discussed.”

&nb
sp; “Were you aware that the driver responsible for the Gault family’s car accident was, at one point, in talks with the D.A.’s office about some kind of evidence he had against Eddie?”

  “What?” Helen and Rafi said together.

  “Until he was mysteriously killed in a prison brawl. Funny how often that kind of thing happens when people try to testify against ‘Uncle Eddie.’”

  “I don’t think Julian knows about that,” Rafi said, still stunned. “Though he knows plenty of other things Eddie has done.”

  That was the point at which they dragged Julian away from Christian’s bedside and started questioning him as well.

  * * * *

  It was long after nightfall before they were permitted to leave the police station—and by “permitted,” Rafi suspected Julian simply decided he’d had enough and walked out, collecting Rafi along the way. Helen chose to stay.

  They kept their heads down and ignored a few news crews on their way to the car, where Lyle was in the driver’s seat.

  “Christian is still stable, sir,” he said as he pulled away from the curb. “Ms. Hernandez is with him.”

  “Thank you, Lyle,” Julian said, calm and proper as ever. “Take us to the hospital, please.”

  Julian was a mess, still damp from the rain and speckled with blood. He’d replaced the pink tank top with an I <3 NYC T-shirt, perhaps from the hospital gift shop, but still wore the black dress pants, which were now muddy as well as torn. His hair was pulled back in an untidy tail, eyes shadowed, and there was a bruise coming up on his cheek. Rafi wanted to touch him so badly it hurt.

  “You look terrible,” Julian said, and pressed a gentle fingertip to Rafi’s chin, which stung. Did he have a cut there?

  “I feel terrible,” Rafi said, which was true. He was hungry and tired, and he’d busted his knuckles open on Eddie’s face. Cautiously, he eased an arm around Julian’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  Julian closed his eyes, and slowly, slowly relaxed against him, as if he had to guide himself through the steps.

  “The list of names,” he said. “It’s in my brother’s handwriting.”