by Dee J. Adams
The man owned a lot of property. Anyone in the real estate business knew that. He toured a lot and had been spending most of his down time between New York and England. Why he chose those cities when he had this beautiful hilltop estate didn’t make sense, but he was probably so busy that he just hadn’t had time to see what he was missing in Los Angeles.
She’d been casing this place since Seger bought it. It wasn’t hard since she worked a few miles down PCH. She passed it on her way to work and on her way home. Most days she had her lunch across the street sitting in her car. Watching. Waiting.
One day, she’d be in the right place at the right time. She was sure of it. She felt it in her bones.
Right now, she didn’t know how all the new people played into the scenario. She hadn’t minded one woman, but she didn’t like two and now there were three. Not to mention the dog. She hated dogs.
It only meant she had to keep a closer eye on the place. A little more diligence didn’t bother her. It was for a good cause. Her future.
If Seger never showed, then it didn’t matter. But if he did, she’d be ready. She’d make a move so fast that every head on the private hilltop would spin. She smiled, thinking about how she’d act when she met him…and more importantly, how he’d react.
She was exactly his type. Every model or actress he’d ever been seen with in public looked just like her. Tall, brunette and gorgeous. She’d spent her life getting ready for her next meeting with him. Hours at the gym and the best skin care products on the market kept her looking ten years younger than her age. It had been twenty-two years since she’d seen him and she looked completely different. He hadn’t noticed her then, but he’d notice her now. If fate brought him here, she’d damn well take advantage of it.
Nothing would stop her. Seger Hughes belonged to her.
* * *
Ashley and Ellie returned to the vet’s office to pick up Roamer twenty-four hours later. In the interim they’d gone to a pet supply store and bought the appropriate paraphernalia. Leash, collar, bowls, food, squeaky toys and, of course, the ever important, get-the-whole-pile-in-one-shot heavy-duty pooper-scooper.
They’d also interviewed Lizzie in the waiting room the day before. Her conscientious nature and big heart had bowled them both over with a swift strike and Ashley had been quickly convinced she was the one to hire.
They’d been sitting on the smooth vinyl seats in the waiting room and Ellie had started the ball rolling. “So, Lizzie, tell us about yourself.”
Ah, yes, the interview. Thank God for Ellie.
“Well,” Lizzie began slowly, “I have a master’s degree in orientation and mobility. I teach people how to live independently. I have a page-long list of references but it’s in my car back at your place.” She paused for a moment and Ashley suspected there was bad news incoming. “You do need to know that I’m a writer. I just landed my first literary agent and she thinks my book is going to be a break-out hit.”
“Wow,” Ashley said. “That’s great. But if you’re trying to sell a novel, why keep the day job?”
“I’m not naive enough to think I can sell my first book and make some giant advance,” Lizzie admitted. “It would be great, sure, but it’s highly unlikely. The truth is, I like my day job. I like helping people learn to live independently. It’s important and it fulfills me. But writing fulfills me too. So until the book happens for real, I don’t want—and honestly can’t afford—to give up my day job.
“Which is where you come in,” she continued. “I’m going to lay all my cards on the table.” She took a deep breath. “My apartment complex was sold and I have to move. This position with you allows me to save rent money since you’re providing temporary room and board. It also means that when I’m not working with you, I’ll have more time to write since you’ll be my only client. I won’t have to spend time driving to other clients.”
“What about those other people?” Ellie asked. “Do they know you’ll be leaving?”
“Not yet. I see no sense in worrying any of them until I have to. But I wouldn’t leave them without help. The department will assign someone just as qualified to take over and I’d make sure the transition was smooth. I care about my clients. I wouldn’t leave them high and dry.”
Ashley respected that.
“The other thing you need to know is that I’ll spend every spare minute of the day working on my book to make the changes my agent requires. If you want a best friend, then I’m not the one to hire. My time off is my own and although I’m sure you’re a nice lady, I can’t be your gal pal. But if you want someone to help you cope and live with your blindness, then I’m the one for the job.”
She was no nonsense, straight from the heart and Ashley loved her.
Once they got home and saw her referrals, it was clear that she was highly regarded, not only by the Department of Rehabilitation, but by all the people she’d worked with.
Hiring her had been a no-brainer. So while Lizzie organized and packed for the move into Ashley’s place, Ellie had made arrangements to go home to Indiana and together they’d made the house ready for both Lizzie and Roamer. Or at least as ready as they could with one day’s notice.
Now as they waited for the vet to bring out Roamer, Ellie squeezed Ashley’s hand. “You sure you want a dog, Ash? I know he seemed sweet yesterday, but he was nearly dead. What if he’s too much to handle?”
Ashley had wondered the same thing, but she didn’t want to admit it. For the past two years she’d been afraid to go out, afraid to live. Now that she couldn’t see anything, she was pissed. Look at the time she’d wasted. Imagine all the things she could’ve seen and done and she’d blown it by being scared. Now, instead of worrying about life, she wanted to take it by the balls. She just had to pull her head out of her ass long enough to actually do it. Adopting Roamer was a great beginning. “Don’t be a party pooper,” she scolded. “Let’s take it one day at a time.” If she could handle a dog, she could handle more of what life had to offer. If nothing else, it was damn time she tried. The sound of nails clipping along the tile floor had Ashley straining to hear more.
“Hi there,” Ellie said, obviously speaking to the dog and tugging Ashley closer. “Aren’t you a handsome boy? Hi, Dr. Roberts,” she added, making sure Ashley knew the vet from yesterday was with them.
As the vet gave instructions to an employee about results she needed for another patient, a cold nose wedged its way into her hand and Ashley bent to pet Roamer. His fur seemed especially soft. He gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and she laughed.
“He already knows who to suck up to,” Ellie said. The smile on her face was evident in the tone of her voice. “That already proves his smarts.”
Roamer pranced around them, his tail thumping against her shins as he weaved between their legs, taking pats alternately from the closest person.
“He’s a happy guy,” Ashley said. “That’s good.” She felt someone step closer.
“He seems to have bounced back quickly,” the vet said. “Once we got him hydrated with liquids and nutrients, he came back to life. He liked the bath too, and boy did he need it.” That explained his soft fur. “He’s young—I’d say not even two—and strong. There shouldn’t be any ill effects from yesterday. He’s been eating like a horse, though. Hope you bought a big sack of dog food.”
“We got a forty-pound bag. That should last about a week,” Ellie said around a chuckle, nudging Ashley’s arm. Roamer continued to sniff and lick any skin he came into contact with. “It’s amazing nothing was broken.”
“I have a feeling the car did no more than push him over. I think your friend hit the brakes in time and just knocked him down. By the looks of it yesterday, he was about ready to collapse anyway. He was that exhausted. Once he recharged his battery, he was good to go.”
“Do you think anyone might claim him?” Ashley asked.
“It’s possible, but you never know. We didn’t find a chip. If someone comes in looking for him,
we know where to find you. He’s pretty distinctive since his tail and ears weren’t cropped. By the way, would you like us to do that for you if no one claims him?”
Hell No with a capital N. “No, I don’t believe in that. Why change what God gave him? He’s pretty like this.” Said the blind girl. Ashley nearly laughed at herself.
“Fair enough. Just thought I’d mention it,” Dr. Roberts said. She rattled off a long list of shots and boosters that Roamer had endured and told her he’d been neutered, and barring any unforeseen problems she should bring him back in a year for a checkup.
She thanked the doctor, and Ellie filled out a form for Roamer’s dog tags. Ashley then paid the eight hundred-and-sixteen-dollar bill—ouch—before Ellie guided Ashley and Roamer out of the clinic. Roamer hopped into the Honda and paced the back seat until Ellie rolled the window down and he could stick his head out in the wind. The King of Malibu.
As she pictured Roamer facing the wind, eager and ready for his new life, it occurred to her that they were a lot alike: both facing the unknown and both with a support system ready to help them adjust. All she had to do was follow her own advice and take it one day at a time. One step at a time. Because eventually, she would travel the world. The fund she’d started had seven or eight more years before it matured enough for her to pull any money out and by then she intended to have her sight back so she could follow her dream. She couldn’t imagine the alternative.
They reached the house and when Roamer got out of the car he didn’t race around like Ashley expected. He stayed right next to her side as they went in the house.
“Oh, I think this boy had extensive training,” Ellie said. “He’s at a perfect heel on your left side.”
“The man of my dreams,” Ashley deadpanned. “He’ll be at my beck and call, speak when I tell him and sit when I say so. Right, Roamer?”
Roamer barked.
“Aw,” Ashley cooed. “Did you hear that? He said we were meant for each other.”
After a long silence, Ellie laughed. “Oh, God, we need to find you a man.”
Chapter Five
Gray and white clouds littered the light blue sky, another perfect California day. Seger Hughes drove his new, black Toyota Prius down PCH.
It had taken an eighteen-year-old girl, a black eye and a raging hangover, but six months ago, he’d made a decision. He was taking a long-ass break, where no one knew where he was or even who he was. He already had the property. This past tour had been so successful that he’d invested in some high-end real estate and spent nearly twenty million dollars on two different homes.
Over a year ago, his newly purchased Beverly Hills estate had been splashed on the cover of several different magazines before the ink even dried on the deeds, and the paparazzi had staked it out, waiting for his arrival. He knew that because of complaints from the neighbors to the real estate company. Soon after, he bought a cliff-side mansion in Malibu under a name he hadn’t used, much less thought about, in twenty years. Only Greg and his realtor, Linda, who purchased all his property, knew about Mel Summers. He hadn’t even told his assistant, Brendan, who’d decided to take some personal time now that Mel was off the road.
He’d originally seen the house on the market for eleven million, but managed to snap it up for nine. He’d had no idea if and when he’d ever see the place in person, much less live there, but now he knew for the foreseeable future, he was calling Malibu home.
The expanse of the Pacific Ocean to his left had him thinking he’d made the right decision.
With the tour finally behind him, a sense of freedom filled his chest. For the last six months, he’d managed to give his fans the kind of concert they expected. Singing his songs as if he gave a shit had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Maybe he should try acting since that’s what he’d been doing the whole last leg of this tour.
As much as he loved music, he’d gotten stale. Old. He hated his songs and very nearly hated himself. Despite weaning himself off booze, cigarettes and women, he still had a tough time looking in the mirror every morning. He didn’t like the man he saw. Didn’t really understand how anyone else could either.
He was a thirty-five-year-old sorry son of a bitch because he’d had thousands of people screaming his name and not one of them loved him the way he wanted or needed. He’d always liked the adulation, the ovation. But even that hadn’t brought the same feelings it used to. He wasn’t the man those people thought he was. They didn’t know him. No one knew him.
He never really understood it. He’d pumped his first hit song out in about five minutes and never guessed it would sell thirteen million copies to launch his career and seal his fate in the music world.
His phone rang and he hit the car’s Bluetooth. “Yo,” he said, answering the call.
“Hey, Seger,” Rick, his guitar tech, said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the other night.”
Two nights ago after the last show, Rick had shown up in his dressing room with twins. They were beautiful too. Goddamn cover models with miles of leg, outrageous breasts, long dark hair and smiles that could give a dead man a boner. He remembered the introductions clearly because it was the last bullet to dodge for months to come.
“Seger,” Rick had said, pushing his way into the dressing room, obviously having indulged in the free-flowing liquor and possibly another substance. Dressed in all black with sweat still shining on his face, he might have been a few years younger than Seger, but he still acted like a teenager filled with rampant testosterone. “I want you to meet…” he gestured to his left, “Sandy.” He pointed to his right. “And Candy.”
“Actually, I’m Sandy,” the second girl said.
“And I’m Candy,” the other chimed in.
Rick didn’t seem fazed by the mistake. “They’re huge fans of yours and said they’d do just about anything if they could meet you.” He narrowed an eye and lifted the opposite brow. Maybe I could have one when you’re done with them, the look said.
“Ladies, pleasure to meet you.” He dumped his empty water bottle in the trash and went to shake hands with Sandy. She didn’t waste time wrapping her arms around his neck and getting up close and personal. Every instinct told him to run, but he managed to stay still.
“I think you are so sexy,” she murmured. “I could just eat you up.” She licked her lush, red painted lips.
It wasn’t that the lady wasn’t gorgeous. Actually, she was exactly his type. There was nothing he loved more than long, dark, silky hair, and it wasn’t too long ago that he would’ve jumped at the chance to…well…be eaten up by her. But now he couldn’t get away fast enough.
“I love this,” she murmured, fingering his long hair. “Can I have a little?”
What? She wanted some of his hair? He followed her gaze to the small pair of wire cutters sitting on the nearby end table. He’d cut a guitar string before the show and hadn’t bothered putting them away. She reached for the tool, but he beat her to it and tucked it safely into his back pocket. Not in this lifetime.
* * *
“Yo, Seger, you there?” Rick asked, snapping him out of the memory.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about the twins. I’m guessing you managed to keep them occupied after I left.”
Rick snickered. “You know it, dude. I just wanted to make sure you’re feeling okay. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn down twins.”
He’d turned down everything since Idaho. He hadn’t had a hard-on in months and pretty women did nothing for him lately. But for some reason, neither of those things bothered him. He liked knowing his dick wouldn’t get him into trouble. It felt almost freeing.
After assuring Rick he was fine, his friend signed off just as Mel made it to the front gate of his estate and punched in the security code. He’d missed his home state. Maybe he wasn’t born here, but it’s where his soul resided since the age of sixteen.
After the forest green wrought iron gate slid open, Mel drove up the long brick
driveway to his Malibu mansion. Home at last. It didn’t matter that he still hadn’t seen the place, because he already sensed the calm that surrounded the property. Tall palm trees swayed in the breeze and lush green Japanese boxwoods lined the estate. Complete privacy and the beauty of the Pacific Ocean would be his best friends. No one telling him where to go and how to act. No crowds and best of all, no Seger Hughes.
Mel had left Seger behind when he’d had his stylist, Sherry, cut every last inch of dyed blond hair off his head. He’d fucking hated all that hair. Sporting a dark brown buzz cut and beard, and packing an extra twenty-five pounds of muscle, he barely recognized himself. Gone was the scrawny, greasy, obnoxious rock star. In his place was a quiet, low-key regular California guy. He planned to lie low for months. Many, many months. He wanted to blend in. Find himself. Maybe even find music again.
Mel took the curving driveway at slow speed, relishing the stone-and-railroad tie landscaping and colorful flowers. At the top of the hill, a line of huge potted plants divided the four-car garage of his place from the guesthouse. He didn’t remember seeing that separation in the brochure.
The smile on Mel’s face faded as he caught sight of a gold Honda parked in front of the guesthouse. Who the hell owned that car and what were they doing at his house? A dozen different scenarios ran through his head. A pool man? A gardener? But those people required trucks for equipment so that couldn’t be it. Maybe a messenger of some sort, but he’d told less than a handful of people where he was living and had his mail forwarded to a PO box. So who the hell belonged to the Honda?
A mountain of frustration formed in his gut as Mel furiously scrolled through his cell phone and found Linda’s number. If his realtor didn’t know who the hell was at his house, then no one would. Which meant his next call would be to the police. So much for living quietly. Frustration quickly shifted into anger. The garage door opened after he hit the remote and he slid into one of the spots in the garage.