by Cora Davies
Sandy was watching Eric as he dressed; he could feel her eyes on him. He heard the sound of the lighter striking. "I thought I told you no smoking in my house?"
"Please, you smoke too," Sandy said as she blew out a long pillar of smoke.
"Only when I'm drinking," Eric growled. "And outside."
"Yeah, so you have lung cancer too." Sandy began to laugh, but it quickly turned into a long dragging hacking sound.
"It stinks. It makes my shirts," Eric paused as he picked up a shirt from the floor, pressed it against his face, and inhaled. "Smell like wet smoke."
Sandy shrugged and got up leaving the room. Eric heard the shower turn on a few seconds later. Even though he had just showered he felt the urge to go for a run. Run away from her. He pulled on his athletic clothes-sponsored, of course-and randomly selected a pair of running shoes. Another thousand in the bank account. It was good sometimes being paid to wear certain brands-annoying when he had to remember which one he was supposed to wear that day. Hannah usually set out his clothes for him each night-she was good about his suits, or regular wear clothes-but not his running clothes. He should talk to her about that.
Eric strapped his phone to his arm, plugged in his headphones, and jogged down the stairs heading for the door. He'd run outside today. He needed the fresh air. He passed by various staff milling about who smiled and nodded as he passed. He was good about remembering most of the staff's names-but some of the positions rotated in and out so fast he did not have a chance. Too many staff members as far as he was concerned; he wondered sometimes what it would be like to have his house to himself. Granted, it was probably too big for only one man, but that was because he had not purchased a separate building yet for his start-up production company.
"Mr. James." Hannah stepped out from a doorway as Eric was scooting by. He cringed. Hannah had been hired by his mother to run his household. She was at least as old as his mom, though did not have the benefit of the spotlight to force herself to age slower. So, without the aids of surgeons, thousand dollar creams, and her own personal fitness trainer-Hannah looked every bit her sixty something years old; grayed hair, smile and frown lines allowed to roam on her face. Dressed in a red pantsuit, Hannah pressed her hand on Eric's shoulder as he threatened to continue to move past; pretending like he did not see her. "Eric."
"Hannah?" He flashed his million-watt smile-it was like a reflex at this point when any woman looked at him.
"We need to talk about Sandy, please," Hannah said. Eric realized Sandy was possibly the only woman who did not get his smile. She got a glare.
"Do we? Do we have to?" Eric asked, looking over Hannah's shoulder to the window. It looked like a beautiful spring morning. The perfect time to run outside because in another hour or two it would be too hot from the bright California sun.
"Yes. She is running up tabs in your name all over town at the most..." Hannah screwed up her face, "Repulsive nightclubs."
"We have the money to cover it right?" Eric asked.
"That is not the point. She is not taking a team with her. She is not getting non-disclosures signed before going into certain rooms. She is not-" Eric cut Hannah off.
"You're right. You should talk to her." He stepped around Hannah and heard her sigh loudly and mumble something about Eric's mother. "Good idea. You could have my mother talk to her-but don't I pay you to take care of everyone in the household? And Sandy is in the household."
He heard the sound of something snap-probably the pencil Hannah had been holding-as he pushed the door open and stepped into the fresh air. Just as he thought, a perfect morning. He wondered if he could sneak out the back gate without anyone seeing him and run through the private running trails behind their houses. He would try.
He jogged past the pool, tennis court, and guesthouse before reaching the back gate. Eric held his breath and listened. No sounds. He could probably do it. He pushed the gate open and stepped out. Lights began to flash in his eyes. Nope. He did not do it. He had fifty feet of this before he hit the private trails.
"Eric!"
"Mr. James! This way please!"
"Eric! How is Sandy doing after her DUI?"
"Eric!"
Eric ignored the calls, the clicks, the lights, and turned the volume up on his cell phone to drown them out with a good mix of heavy metal. When he approached the gate to the trail he turned around, flashed that smile, and flipped the closest cameraman off.
"Thank you, Eric!"
Eric was gone through the gate and into the quiet of the trails before the man could finish his sentence. He ran the five miles on the winding path up the side of the mountain, stopping occasionally to cough. He had to quit smoking. It was no longer doing him any favors.
When Eric reached the peak and his favorite spot complete with a water fountain, he walked over for a sip. The area was co-purchased by all the people whose homes backed up to the mountain. They maintained a small structure with a bathroom, water fountain, and bench. Other than the small concrete room, it was like being away from the world.
Except that when he looked down, he could see the valley below and all the houses. The real world. A ding from his phone interrupted the music and he slid the case off his arm. It was a text message from his private investigator with a name, number, and address in Colorado. "Hailey Rogers."
Eric smiled. No time like the present. He called the number.
"Hello?" A woman said.
"Hailey Rogers? You have no idea what I've gone through to get your number." Eric smiled.
"Who is this?" Hailey asked.
"You don't know? Come on now." Eric realized his voice was hoarse still from last night and stopped to clear his throat.
"Are you the one sending me the letters?" Hailey's voice lowered to a whisper. "Listen you asshole, I don't know who you think you are, or how you got this number but-"
"Whoa whoa now, I haven't been sending any letters. But I have been trying to contact you every month."
There was a moment of silence from the other end of the phone. "Oh my god."
"That's right." Eric smiled and collapsed onto the bench. It was good when you got an oh my god.
"You're Eric James' agent."
Eric laughed. "You're getting warmer."
"No. You're freakin' Eric James?"
"That's right. What gave it away? I want to schedule some time to talk to you, Hailey." Silence. Eric pulled the phone back from his ear to make sure he had not lost the call. She was still there. "Hello?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. James," Hailey said, and if Eric was not mistaken he thought he heard anger in her voice. "I'm very busy. I don't have time to come there and-"
"Then I'll come to you."
"No! You don't even know where I live do you?" It was Eric's turn to be silent. "Ugh, no. The answer is going to be no, no matter what. So you might as well just-"
"Why? I want to know why? Is it me?" Eric used his best flirt voice hoping the sound was enough without the usual power of his smile. He knew he was seventy percent eye candy. That was just the way life was.
"This book is off limits. There are eighty billion other books and writers in the world. Go bother one of them." He heard a muffled sound and then the line went dead.
"Well, that went great," Eric said putting his phone on the bench. He laced his hands behind his head and looked over the valley. "Guess I gotta get the family jet ready."
CHAPTER THREE
Hailey sat across from Herb at the restaurant table at their weekly date. He was droning on about numbers, some account he was working on, and how the guy thought something about dividends. Tax-free? What? Was she supposed to understand what Herb was saying? She guessed it did not really matter if she listened or not-he was perfectly fine talking about accounting all night.
"So he asked if it was tax-free. I said really, tax-free?" Herb pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and Hailey followed his lead into a small chuckle. She noticed his hairline was receding. Was that new? Or had she
just not noticed before? She studied Herb as he continued with his story and she hoped she was smiling and nodding in all the appropriate places. Hailey had been dating the forty-two-year-old accountant for almost six months. He was a quiet man who talked a lot about his work. It seemed to be the only thing he knew how to talk about. He was not an unattractive man-but he did not catch the eye of women very easily, which made it easy for Hailey to trust her relationship with him. He was reliable. Like a Buick.
"Do you know what you will have?" the pixie of a waitress asked smiling back and forth between the two of them.
"I will have the chicken cordon bleu with whatever the seasonal vegetable is," Herb said looking down at his menu over his glasses. "With a glass of whatever pairs best."
"Of course. And for your daughter?" the waitress asked, still quite chipper. Hailey was used to it by now, but she looked at Herb's hairline-maybe receding more than she realized a moment ago. Herb reddened around the ears.
"Girlfriend," Hailey corrected. There was only a nine-year difference, but Hailey looked young for her years, she knew it. Plus, there was always the fact that Herb was wearing a suit and Hailey's shirt had cartoon stick figures on it making a Shakespeare joke. "I will have the bacon cheeseburger with fries. Whatever the seasonal beer is, please."
"Of course, and sorry about that," the waitress said obviously a little flustered.
"It's fine," Hailey smiled and the waitress walked off. She turned her focus back on Herb.
"Fine for you," he muttered sticking the corner of his napkin into his glass of water. "I look like your dad."
"The lighting in here is bad," Hailey said. Then she changed the subject. "Chicken cordon bleu sounds good. I've never tried it."
He stared at her long enough to blink twice, then answered. "It is very good here. I brought a client here last week. The bacon cheeseburger? That sounds... not healthy?"
Hailey laughed and Herb returned a small smile. "I need a big pile of grease after my day."
Herb was quiet while Hailey unloaded the details of her day. Between the problem at Chrissy's school, her agent calling and bugging her about pages (which she realized she should be home working on right then), and finally Eric James' phone call. While she was talking their food arrived. Suddenly she noticed Herb's hand paused with a piece of chicken on his fork-raised halfway to his mouth.
"What?" Hailey asked, and then took a bite of her cheeseburger. Nothing like grease at the end of a crappy day. She sighed inwardly then watched as Herb placed his fork back on his plate-but was still staring at her. She raised an eyebrow.
"Eric James?" he asked and Hailey nodded mouth still full. "The movie star? Raymond James' brother? Son to Regina and Harold James? Hawkman?"
Hailey nodded, not understanding Herb's astonishment. Since she had nothing to add to the conversation, she took another big bite of her burger. She stabbed a french fry into her mustard and looked up at Herb. Around a mouthful, she said, "What?"
"Eric James is a billionaire. Or at least, his parents are. He probably is by association... and you told him no?" Herb cocked his head and looked at her as if she had grown a horn out of her head. "Do you realize what this could do to your career?"
Hailey furrowed her eyebrows. Whether this book was made into a movie with Mr. Eric James or not, her career would not change one iota. She swallowed her food. "I've already had books made into movies. It wouldn't make a difference here."
"But, he is Eric James. He makes a difference to everything," Herb said.
"Do you have the hots for him or something Herb?" She asked rolling her eyes. "Some of us don't have noses that follow the scent of money. We follow our hearts. Plus, you know nothing about my career, so just stick to what you know, okay?"
Herb looked a little hurt, and Hailey felt sorry-they had never fought before. That was why she liked Herb; he was bland, easy to get along with, and okay with everything.
"I'm sorry, Hailey. I didn't mean to-" Herb started, and Hailey put a hand on his.
"No, it's my fault Herb. I shouldn't have brought it up. I could see where his name would sound really intimidating, and I know you just want the best for me," Hailey said, and it was true even if she did feel a little like a sullen teenager saying it. Herb might have been a successful accountant in their small town, but he found her success intimidating. Where she saw passion and life, Herb saw numbers. He had known her only as a ranch owner when they started dating and constantly asked her if she was doing all right. Jason had been going to Herb with help for the books, and Herb said she would not do all right without loans until the ranch was more established. It wasn't until their three-month anniversary that she had confessed she wrote under the pen name Jeannette Hope, and that money was what fueled the ranch until it was more established.
They finished their meal only making polite conversation and then Herb drove Hailey home.
"I am sorry-your life still just blows me away," Herb said as he pulled onto the dirt road that led to Hailey's ranch. It had warmed up that afternoon-unseasonably early-but Hailey was not complaining because the rest of the snow had melted. It made for a lot more mud than usual, but Herb drove a four-wheel drive truck like most people who lived out there. There was a gravel road that led up to the house, but the distance to take it was almost twice as long.
"It's not my life, though," Hailey said. "My life is out here on the ranch. That Hollywood stuff, I mean, that's awesome and that is what keeps the ranch afloat, but it is separate from who I am. Once I see the movie rights, my part is over."
"That book," Herb said then cleared his throat. "It's hard to compete with a dead man Hailey."
"You aren't competing," Hailey said leaning her head back on the headrest. "You can't compete with someone who isn't here."
"I know, but it's like Paul follows you everywhere still."
"That book was just about therapeutic release. If I had to go back and do it all over again, I wouldn't have even had it published."
"But it's been your most profitable-" Herb started.
"Can we not talk about money for five minutes?" Hailey said turning her head to look at Herb. He was looking out for her best. He was Mr. Reliable. Don't get on his case about that. She opened her mouth to apologize but Herb's eyebrows furrowed. Hailey looked ahead to where he was focused. They were almost in her driveway, and there was a vehicle parked up there that she had not seen before. She did not know anything about cars, but this one just oozed money. "What is that?"
"Wow, that is a Ferrari. 458 I think."
Hailey looked at Herb in surprise. How did he know that? "Who in the world would drive something like that out to a ranch?"
Herb slowed and Hailey hopped out before the vehicle was in park. Who was in her house? It would not be Turner's parents, would it? She knew they were one of the wealthiest families in town. She would not put it past them to come out here to intimidate her about what Chrissy and her friends had done.
"Hailey. Hailey hold on a minute," Herb was calling her. Hailey stopped and turned around. "Do you want me to come in?"
Hailey stared at him slack-jawed for a moment. Of course, he should come in. There was a strange car in her driveway obviously stressing her out. There should not be a question if her boyfriend should come inside in case there was a problem. But, as she looked at Herb she almost wondered if he would do or say anything if there was a problem.
"Yes please," Hailey finally said deciding that was the correct answer. She waited at the top step for Herb to join her, and when he reached her she turned and pushed the front door open. No one was standing in the foyer but she could hear voices from the sitting room. Hailey paused as Herb shut the door; then the two walked down the hall together and turned into the sitting room.
She stepped into the comfortable, yet formal room, with its older furniture, hutch with family photos, and a small bar in the corner. Her mother and daughter, who looked comfortable and happy, sat on the cream and dark wood love seat facing Hailey and Herb
. Hailey immediately dismissed the idea that the man they were addressing could be Turner's father or lawyer, and felt her own shoulders relax. The man was facing away from them and had not heard when they came through the door. Although she could not see his face there was something familiar about him.
"Oh, Hailey, love," her mother said standing up. Rebecca was in her mid-fifties but looked like a young forty. She wore her chestnut colored hair in a long braid down her back. Her hair was always a tad lighter than Hailey's-though their build was the same; slender but muscular and a little soft around the middle. Her mother still had her work jeans on from the day-unusual for this late hour. But the thing that stood out the most to Hailey was the broad smile on both her mother and her usually sullen teenage daughter's faces. "We have company."
The man rose and turned to face Hailey and suddenly she felt as though the air was being sucked from the room. An odd feeling like deja vu passed over her, but she felt confused too. He extended his hand out to her and she almost jumped back. But she forced herself to look at him, squarely, even if she was a good foot shorter than him.
"Hailey Rogers, I'm so pleased to meet you," he said, staring at her hand as he waited for it to return the handshake. Finally, he dropped his hand back to his side. "I'm Eric James."
CHAPTER FOUR
When he arrived earlier Rebecca had greeted him at the door. She had been everything he was hoping to find when she opened the door-a fan.
"Oh, oh my goodness. You're Eric James," Rebecca said as she leaned against the door frame, one hand over her heart, fanning herself with her other hand. "What are you doing here?"
"We spoke earlier today Ms. Rogers, but we were cut off." Eric had not expected someone so excited to see him after the phone call earlier. This might actually go better than planned. "I am here to talk to you about your book and signing over-"
Eric was cut off as the woman threw the screen door open and started to laugh. "Come in, come in! So exciting."