by C. J. Miller
Marissa was smart enough to know nothing was off the record. “My security,” Marissa said.
Sarah looked over her shoulder at him. “He’s cute.”
Jack was a handsome man, no denying it. “You are not the first woman to tell me that. I didn’t select him because of how he looked. In fact, I didn’t select him at all. I needed a security detail, and Jack fit the bill.” Cameras on or not, speaking to Sarah meant edging around topics she didn’t want to discuss: Kit, Avery or Jack. She strove to keep her tone light.
“Then tell me, is it hard to have a personal life with security circling you all the time?” Sarah asked.
Marissa didn’t like how close to the truth the questions were hitting. “My work and the travel are what make having a personal life hard.” She was proud of herself for thinking of that answer quickly and skirting around more probing questions about her lack of a love life.
Sarah asked more questions about her ad campaigns and a few about her beauty routine, and then the commercial break was over.
Marissa was relieved. She would be on the set for a short time with Ambrose and then she was home free.
* * *
Marissa had poise and confidence. Jack admired the skillful manner she answered questions, not sounding hostile or surprised and keeping the interviewer away from conversational landmines.
Marissa exited the stage and they walked together to her dressing room. The room was ten by ten, with a white leather couch, white fixture and light blue walls. The flooring was beige tile. It reminded Jack of decor for a beach house. Hung on the walls were copies of the awards the show had won mounted in dark wood plaques.
At the sink inside the room, Jack watched Marissa remove her makeup. He’d observed her doing that before. He had come to like it better when her face was bare except for a genuine smile.
“I lied to Sarah,” Marissa said as she applied lotion to her face.
“About what?” Jack asked. He had heard the interview. He hadn’t caught a lie.
“About you.”
He felt his chest grow tight. “Which part in particular?” She had kept him out of the center of attention. He appreciated it.
“I told her that I didn’t have a love life. That’s not true. I didn’t want to discuss you. I didn’t want to discuss what we have.” She tossed a cotton square into the trash and reached for another one. “I didn’t want to admit how much I like you. I want to fire you so that we can date in the open. That would get you into trouble and I am not sure you would accept it.”
Stunned into silence, he hadn’t considered not being her bodyguard and filling another role in her life: boyfriend.
“I’ve been thinking about what you’ll do when you can’t be my bodyguard anymore. I know your work is important and I would like for you to believe that I could handle being in a relationship with someone who wasn’t next to me every day.”
She deserved better. It wasn’t that he would be unavailable to her most of the year. Physical distance created an emotional one. Jack struggled with nagging doubts. Bianca had betrayed him and he hadn’t seen it coming. He questioned whether he would be able to navigate a relationship with Marissa. “It’s not just the time. History would indicate I can’t make a relationship work.”
“Because you’re single? You think that worries me? I’ve been married twice. Twice before I turned forty. I’ve learned from my relationships. I know what’s real and I know what’s smoke and mirrors. What you and I have, it’s real, but you’re holding back.”
Of course he was. Focus on the job was most important. He wasn’t a man who lost his head in a relationship. He could lose his heart to Marissa easily. Preventing that was at the top of his list. “I don’t want you to be hurt.” Emotionally, because he did something stupid to torpedo the relationship or physically, because he let his guard down and the person who was targeting her succeeded.
* * *
Returning home, Marissa felt like her life was moving in the right direction for the first time in a month. The insurance company had worked with the restoration company to make the necessary repairs. Many items had been irreplaceable, but at least she could live in her home. After the fiasco with Rob, her doubts about her career, Avery’s death, meeting Jack and Clarice’s death, her world had been shaken. It would be years before she could go a day without thinking of Clarice and Avery.
“We’ve upgraded your security system,” Jack said. “Bulletproof windows have been installed. The doors and door jams have been reinforced. We have alarms in place and backup alarms for any type of failure, mechanical or electrical.”
“But my sense of peace. That can’t be fixed as easily,” Marissa said. She was grateful for how quickly the restoration team had worked and the efforts Jack had put in to ensure her home was safe. But she wondered if she would ever feel safe again.
She opened the front door and Jack showed her how to disable the alarm.
She turned around and her breath caught in her throat. The rainbow chandelier she had seen at the flea market was hanging in the lobby. “Did you do this?” she asked, pointing to it.
His cheeks turned light pink. “You liked it. I wanted you to have it.”
She circled it, looking at the colorful lights. It was a bright white light at the center, but also threw colors against the wall. Better than she had anticipated. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much. I love it.”
“I want you to take your time walking through the house. If you notice anything out of place, let me know and I’ll contact the restoration company. It might be a few weeks before you’ve gone over all the details, but the project manager is waiting for your call. He expects it and he’s ready to come quickly to make you feel at home.” Jack took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. “I want you to feel safe in this space. This is your home and no one can take that from you.”
Marissa pulled her left hand away and ran it through Jack’s hair. “You are a sweet man.” He was doing everything he could to right her world.
“The breach was unacceptable and we want to do everything we can.”
“Stop saying we. You don’t need to give credit to anyone else. I know much of this, the speed and the details, was you. I know you led the charge,” she said. Jack had gone above and beyond anything she would have expected. He had pushed hard to get the repairs completed in the short time frame.
“I had pictures from your home. We used those to match paint and find replacement items. Some of your artwork is at a specialist being evaluated for repairs and we’ll know more about that later.” He stroked the side of her face with his fingertips. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. Right now, here with you. I am very happy.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Slipping his arms around her waist, Jack drew her against him and Marissa lost herself in his touch.
* * *
The information Jack had requested was waiting for him in a stack of manila folders, each tab labeled. One hundred and fifty people had been backstage at Declan Ambrose’s show. Security had been tight, but not impossible to break. Someone could have gotten backstage. After Jack read these documents, round two would include every person who had purchased a ticket to the fashion show or had been given tickets. That list would be longer and more tedious.
The West Company had provided profiles of the individuals in question: pictures, psychological assessments and anything they could assemble. Wading through the material would take hundreds of man hours. Jack started with the most prominent staffers, those who could move around backstage without being questioned.
He was interested in knowing more about the rumors Marissa had heard at Ambrose’s award show after party about Avery and Rob gambling. There was truth in the rumors. Avery’s net worth was fifty times higher than Rob’s, so while she had a long hi
story of gambling, throwing big money into a game and losing, her finances could tolerate it. Rob’s couldn’t. He gambled more frequently than Avery. A notation in his file indicated several large withdrawals and loans from his bank and investment accounts. The withdrawals hadn’t all been tied to a legal gambling organization. He could be placing illegal bets on sports with a local bookie.
Marissa was outside in her private lap pool. The eight-foot white vinyl fence encircling the yard provided her privacy. The pool was enclosed in glass and the windows were steamed. He entered and the heat and humidity in the room socked him. Her aqua lounge chair was empty, a cup of water, her sunglasses and bottle of sunscreen on a small table beside it.
She was in the pool, her kick even and her strokes smooth. Jack watched her and she must have sensed him because she stopped swimming and came to the side of the pool.
“Hey, Jack,” she said, pushing her hair off her face.
Jack felt his blood rush to his lower half. She was his dream woman and the casual way she set her hands on the side of the pool with her wet hair pushed off her face, looking at him with big eyes, made his pulse pound. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s okay. I was getting ready to take a break.” She lifted herself from the pool, the tone in her arms flexing, her abdominals tightening and water sliding down her long, slim, toned legs.
She took a sip of her water and picked up her towel, wrapping it around herself. “What can I do for you?”
He was staring. Just looking at her like a predator considering pouncing. He collected his thoughts. “Do you know if Rob had interest in gambling on sports?”
Marissa wrung out the end of her hair. “He’s watched games with buddies, but I don’t know if he gambled on the results. I have a friend who works for a professional basketball team. I had courtside tickets and Rob had no interest in going.”
“You had courtside seats and Rob didn’t want to go?” Jack asked. He didn’t know Rob well, but the more he learned, the less he understood him.
“He had no interest. I gave them to someone else,” Marissa said.
He was letting the conversation get off track. “I’m seeing a number of large withdrawals from various accounts and none can be tied to vacations or large purchases.”
Marissa rubbed her forehead. “About a year ago, Avery asked me to come with her to a new casino. She said it was underground and we needed a password and a key to get into it. It sounded fun, but at the last minute, my agent booked a commercial for me, so I flew out that night. She and Rob could have been going to underground casinos.”
“Avery and Rob could have gotten caught up with anything.” They could have gotten into debt, financial or metaphorical, with a criminal element.
It was a good theory, but Jack couldn’t undisputedly tie it to Avery’s murder.
“What are you thinking?” Marissa asked.
“I’m following every lead. We might have found a connection to an enemy that either Avery or Rob had.”
Marissa shivered. “It’s cold out here and this conversation is creeping me out. I need to take a shower. Come with me?”
The word no was on his tongue. He had more files to review. Calls to make.
Marissa pulled on furry boots and wrapped a thick robe around herself. “Come on. We need a break.”
He followed her into the house and into the shower.
* * *
Marissa rang Ambrose’s doorbell. She could hear the sound of the bells from the street, a small, familiar song she couldn’t identify by name. Her fashion designer friend had invited her over for a drink. That was code for: I need to talk. Ambrose opened the red slatted wood door and it squeaked on its nickel hinges.
“Glad you could make it!” He hugged her and his gaze darted over her shoulder to Jack. “You brought backup?”
“He insisted. Jack wants to go everywhere I do for now,” Marissa said. Jack wouldn’t eavesdrop or weigh in on her and Ambrose’s conversation, unless invited to do so.
Ambrose smiled. “Come on in. I made a pitcher of margaritas.”
They entered the house. It wasn’t her first time at Ambrose’s place, but he had changed some of the art and decor since the last time she had visited. Detailed sketches of animals were hung on the wall, lions and giraffes and zebras. Previously, the walls had been covered with alligators and parrots and panthers and white-tailed deer. They had played a role in his designs and presumably the new sketches were meant to provide inspiration for his next collection.
Ambrose poured himself and her a drink. He offered one to Jack, who declined.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” Jack said. He had locked the front door and was looking around the space.
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Ambrose asked, nodding in Jack’s direction.
Jack didn’t. He was doing his job and one that was needed. “Not really. I’m used to having him around. And I need him.”
“Making any progress on the investigation?” Ambrose asked.
Marissa considered telling him about the gambling theory, then thought better of it. If their theory was wrong, she would be badmouthing Avery and Rob unfairly. “Nothing new.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He took a sip of his drink. “The reason I invited you over is because I’m going through a dry spell.”
“Like in your relationships?” Marissa often had the most career success at times when her social and personal lives were the most dead.
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “No. I have plenty of dates and for now, that’s all I want. I mean my designs. I have ideas. Lots of directions I want to move the collection, but everything comes out like the previous collection or I finish a design, and it looks blah.”
He was being overly critical about his work, she was sure. “If that’s true and you’re not just being hard on yourself, you might be having a mental block. Going through a phase. I’ve had trouble shaking what happened to Avery and Clarice. I can’t believe they’re gone. It makes it hard to work and be upbeat and creative.”
Ambrose took a long swallow from his glass. “I think of them every day.”
The sadness in his voice was thick. “That’s probably part of the mental fatigue. And what about the expectations? You impressed everyone who came to your show. Now they want more. And they want it to blow them away. That’s a lot of pressure for you.”
Ambrose stood and strode to the kitchen counter. Picking up the pitcher, he refilled his cup. At this rate, he would be hammered in the hour. “What if I can’t do it? What if I’m a one trick pony? If I’ve peaked, then I’ll never have a show as great as my first.”
Marissa had seen his designs. They were fresh and inspired. “You can’t let this go to your head. The stress alone will stunt you.” She had felt stress at points in her career, worried an ad campaign may be her last, afraid she may not get hired for another.
“The stress. The demands. The long hours. I’m not sure I can do it.” Ambrose’s voice had grown quiet. He looked out the window and Marissa searched for the words to make him feel better. As he continued talking, Marissa stayed quiet, hoping listening was what Ambrose needed most.
* * *
Jack wasn’t intentionally listening to Marissa and Ambrose’s conversation. But it was otherwise quiet and hard to tune it out.
Jack didn’t blame Ambrose for encountering trouble. He’d become famous overnight. It was a pressure-filled situation.
The apartment was nice, though it lacked the refinery and expensive finishes that Marissa’s place had. Success was new to Ambrose. If he continued to do well in his field, he would move to a bigger place.
Jack needed to use the bathroom. Without interrupting Marissa and Ambrose, he found it in the hallway off the kitchen. Across from the bathroom was Ambrose’s office. The door was open. He was curious and enter
ed.
The space was tidy and unlike the rest of the apartment, lacked decor. The walls were white and bare. The small desk in the room was cherrywood and the chair behind it a simple four-legged plastic black chair. Perhaps blandness in his workspace helped Ambrose to focus on his work.
In piles across the top of the desk were fashion designs. Jack wasn’t an expert and didn’t know what he was looking at or for. He snapped a few pictures. Though undecorated, the room was quiet and serene, a nice place to focus.
After using the bathroom, washing his hands and drying them on alligator-printed towels, Jack returned to the family room.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking the phone out, he glanced at the message. “Call home base. 911.” A brief message that he needed to contact the West Company immediately.
He pressed the button to call the secure line. Abby answered.
“Rob Travers was hospitalized this evening at Mount Sinai in Queens. I have his condition listed as serious but stable. Diagnoses not confirmed, but from the scraps of information I’ve collected, it sounds like either a drug overdose or alcohol poisoning.”
“Do you know if he’s conscious?” Jack asked.
Marissa glanced over at him, worry etched on her face.
“Accidental or intentional?” Jack asked.
“Unconfirmed to both questions,” Abby said.
“Where was he before being brought to the hospital?” Jack asked.
“Again, not confirmed intel, but an illegal casino operating in Brooklyn.”
It fit with the information he had theorized about Rob and his financial issues. “Do you have anything else on the casino?” Rob was in debt up to his eyeballs. If he was still gambling, whoever he owed money to would see that Rob got the message.
“It was raided by the police. I’m working to obtain the police records. I’ll get them to you as soon as I can,” Abby said.
They said their goodbyes and disconnected.
“I can see it on your face. Something bad has happened,” Marissa said.
She wasn’t speaking to Ambrose. Marissa and Ambrose were staring at Jack expectantly. Jack wasn’t sure how Marissa would react. She and Rob weren’t friends any longer, but she didn’t wish him harm. “Rob is in the hospital recovering from an overdose. He is in serious, but stable condition.”