by Weston, Dani
“She was only trying to help,” Kaitlin said.
“Bullshit.” Bea ripped the beaded headpiece we were wearing in those sequences and threw it to the ground. A thread snapped and beads exploded over the floor. “She thinks I’m a child who can’t handle anything.”
“I do not! All of this has been for you!”
“Oh, I should just be grateful, then? I’m the one busting my ass, going crazy. This comes easy for you.”
My mouth went dry. “We’re all working hard.”
“Stop treating me like I’m made of glass!” Bea kicked the headpiece.
“Those are handmade!” The stylist threw up her hands.
“Clean up this mess,” the director yelled at no one in particular. When no one came running immediately in, he kicked over a chair. “Forget it. I’m done.”
Kaitlin panicked. “You can’t be done.”
Jimmy stepped in. “It’s okay. We have a lot of footage. If there’s not enough, we’ll try again later.”
“How do you know there’s enough?” I said. “This is our video, not yours! You can’t have it. You can’t do everything you think you can!”
The room went quiet, then. As though everyone knew exactly who their paycheck was coming from. No one challenged Jimmy Keats. Well, I was sick of the power imbalance. And I wasn’t his—or anyone’s—whore.
I took my own headpiece off, carefully, and stepped away from the white walls and lighting we’d been dancing in. I handed it to the stylist, disappeared in to the changing room, put my street clothes back on, and got the hell out of there.
*
I took the long way home, driving through L.A.’s wide streets to kill time and cool off. I still wore my video hair and makeup, but this was L.A. We all were dressing up, at least a little. By the time I felt chill enough to return home, the sun was setting over the Pacific. I always loved the way the sky went golden at that time of night, especially with the shadowy high rises of downtown in the skyline.
Diya was pacing in the living room when I came in. She rushed to me. Looked me square in the eye.
“Don’t be mad at me,” she said.
My stomach clenched. I did not need one more person to be mad at. And I didn’t have the slightest idea why I might be mad at Diya, who never did anything terrible to anyone.
“What’s going on?” I said, cautiously.
She bit her lip and looked toward our room. I went down the hall. There was a tall figure at my desk, bent over something and reading it. I knew that body.
“What are you doing in my room?” I asked Jimmy Keats.
He turned, slowly. Another note in his fingers. Something like a rock lodged in my throat.
“I let him in,” she explained. “He came to talk to you and the note had just arrived and…I want him to help stop this…he’s so scared for you, Court.”
His fear was nothing, compared to mine. “He can’t be scared. I’m nothing more than useful.”
“Dammit, Courtney,” Jimmy said. “That’s nowhere near the truth. But you refuse to let me explain.”
“What’s to explain? You have a history of using women, so why not me?”
“It was a mutual understanding, not using. It was publicity. Neither one of us was harmed.”
“How lucky for both of you.”
“Do you think maybe the reason I didn’t tell you everything was because I wasn’t proud of it? Of pretending?”
He wanted to say more, I could tell by the way his eyes flicked to Diya, then back to me. I slipped my arm through Diya’s and gave him a challenging look. She would stay. I didn’t want to hear his lies.
I held out my other hand. “Give me the note.”
Jimmy shook his head. “No. This has gone too far.”
“I’m taking it to the police.”
“Why? So they can do nothing about it? Have you felt even a smidge safer since involving them?”
No, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that my fingers were trembling. The point was that the notes scared the shit out of me. Whether Jimmy knew about them, or not. “Even Julia said take them to the police.”
He winced at the mention of his mail order ex-girlfriend.
“I have to find out who’s sending them. I have to protect you.”
“Oh, so you think you can just come in here like some white knight, waving your sword and smite all my enemies?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Well, not a white knight.”
“Give me the note.”
“I’m calling Duncan. Getting you a bodyguard.”
“Don’t you dare. He could be the one behind the notes.”
“Duncan?” Jimmy snorted. “He’s the last person who would do this.”
“You think?” I dropped Diya’s arm. “Anyone could be doing this.” I swallowed. My voice shook. Because it really could be anyone, and how does someone protect themselves against a ghost, against a possibility? “Think about this. Duncan’s meal ticket band is breaking up. Going their separate ways. You’re the only one of them who seems capable of striking out on your own. You’re taking on a role much like Duncan’s used to be, so you don’t need him anymore. But if he sabotages that, you’ll still need him.”
“Your theories are amusing. But ludicrous.”
“Laugh all you want, but no one’s in the clear.”
“What about Bea and Kaitlin?”
I started. His words hit too close to home. Who could I trust, when I couldn’t trust anyone?
Not even him.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jimmy said. “I’ve known Duncan for a long time.”
“I’ve known Bea for a long time,” I countered.
“And he’s retiring. Like you said, we were his meal ticket. But his dinner is paid for the rest of his life. He’s taking his money and moving to the Caribbean. He’s done.”
“He’s done?”
“Only wants to hang around long enough to see how well Ladies in Waiting does. He wants you to succeed. For my sake, but for yours, too. He might be…a little fond of you three.”
So the gruff old manager had a heart of gold. I should have seen it coming.
“He should probably get out of the country sooner, rather than later, so he doesn’t see what happens next. Ladies in Waiting’s already falling apart.”
Jimmy looked at Diya, yet again. And like before, I wouldn’t let her leave. My emotions were knotted like a ball of yarn. I didn’t want to hear some sad excuse for what he did to me. Not now. Maybe not ever.
I held out my hand. “I need to take the note in. Add it to my file.”
“And I need more answers than they can give you.” Jimmy Keats brushed by me and Diya, note in hand. I just watched him go. Then I sank onto my bed. I felt drained. Hollow.
“I’m sorry, Court.” Diya sat next to me. “I knew it was wrong to let him in. But I thought he could help. I want him to help. You’re so stressed, lately. I’m scared for you.”
“I’m not mad at you.” I sighed. “But if you really want to help me out, don’t let anyone get in touch with me. I need to study.”
I texted a message to Bea and Kaitlin with the same sentiments.
No meetings this week. I need a break.
And to hide, for a while.
14.
I buried myself in statistics and management theories and international business strategies. Kaitlin had replied to my text to wish me luck and say she was glad someone was finally putting their foot down. Her own grades were suffering and she needed a study break, too.
Bea only replied with a question mark. But with everything she was dealing with, I felt guilty dropping my mess in her lap. I just needed time.
I even avoided my sorority sisters. On the first night of my self-imposed study lockdown, one of the ladies complained that her soup tasted like chicken stock had been used and didn’t we all know she was a vegetarian? Normally, I would have empathized. Several DG ladies were vegetarian, but this time I just cou
ldn’t get over how pathetic it all seemed. I was getting stalked, more afraid for my life by the day, and she was pissed about chicken stock. So I told her carrots scream when they’re killed, too. She wasn’t amused.
I’d taken to leaving the blinds closed on my bedroom window, even though I loved the SoCal sunshine. I’d taken to never leaving the house without a buddy. I’d taken to lying to people about where I was going, just to put them off the scent. I’d taken to walking long, winding paths to my classes, even though I didn’t have time for it. It felt like I was being followed, everywhere I went.
I was going crazy.
The only solace I found was when I gave myself a ten minute break and picked up my guitar. It seemed so long since I’d played just for myself. Since I’d written words that I didn’t have to worry a million—or more—people would hear. I took my acoustic guitar—the one I hadn’t played in ages—out to the living room at Delta Gamma and serenaded my DG sisters. A magical spell fell over us. Everyone looked up from their studying and let themselves have a break, become lost in the music. It was the most relaxed I’d felt in ages.
Until a crashing noise broke through the notes. I stopped. Dropped my guitar. Ran to my room. I opened the door and took a step, my shoe crunching something beneath it. Glass. All over the floor. I looked up. My window was shattered. A note lay on the floor, next to a rock. I made a small, frightened noise in my throat.
No address or stamp on the envelope. Just my name. Hand-delivered.
I pressed my hand to my chest. This couldn’t be happening again. The stalker was getting so bold. Violent. Breaking my window. Dizziness washed over me as my breathing raced. Whoever was doing this could be anywhere…could show up where I was, at any point. Would I have to go into hiding?
Diya was at my shoulder. Her eyes were wide. It was her room, too. And it had been desecrated. The letter was like a black hole, sucking everything in the room into its vacuum. I felt it tug on my heart. Soaked in the pain the hole left behind.
Diya reached down. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. “Let me take it--.”
“No.” I pushed aside glass shards and picked up the note. Saw that familiar script with my name.
And I flipped.
I shrieked. I threw the note across the room. I gulped in air and let it out in a wild sob. I stood. Threw my arms across my desk. Swept every last thing to the floor. My laptop landed with a crash. My lamp shattered on the hardwood. Pens rolled under my bed. I screamed again. Ripped my carefully drawn schedule from my closet door. Clutched my hair. Pushed against Diya as she tried to calm me, attempted to envelope me in a hug. Our bedroom door flew open again, a score of concerned DG sisters piling into the room.
They all said my name, over and over again. They reached for me, but I drew back. It could be any one of them. It could be all of them. Oh my god, I couldn’t trust anyone.
I felt hands on my shoulder. I was sitting in my chair. Diya bent over me. Demanding my attention. The wildness flowed out of me. I took a breath. Wiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks.
Bree Hanson flew into the room, her hair in disarray. “Whoever was out there is gone, now.”
I looked out the hole in the window, seeing only the vague shadows of people lit by the streetlamps. There were dozens of people out there. Everyone blending in like they weren’t suspect.
“Someone had to have seen who it was,” Diya said.
“It’s too dark out.” I shook my head. “It’s never going to stop, is it?”
“We’re going to get you out of here,” she said. “I’m going to book a hotel room. You and me, we’re staying there a couple of nights.”
“What if it’s you?” I felt miserable saying it, but I had to know.
She smiled. She understood and didn’t hold it against me. “It’s not me. I promise.”
I didn’t have to believe her, just because she told me so. But I did, anyway. “Okay.”
Diya packed a couple overnight bags and we got into her car.
“Who else knows where we’re going?” I asked.
“I’m the only one.”
“It could be anyone,” I said, miserably. “They know where I live. My schedule. Contact info in my tablet…oh my God, Diya, my parents.”
“We’ll get in touch with them.”
“Bea and Kaitlin.”
“Them, too. They’ll be okay. It’s just one, twisted person. And the police will find them.” She pulled into the Hilton parking lot. “Everything will be okay, Court.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I stood back while Diya checked us in. The lobby was a busy place. Folks in business attire bustled to their meetings, never bothering to look in my direction. It was a nice feeling, to be anonymous. If things kept up like they were, it would be one of the last times I got to be nobody. Who knew that would be such a luxury?
“We’re all set.” Diya waved the check-in folder in front of her. We headed up in the elevator to our room. It looked serviceable enough, with two beds covered in fluffy white linens and a table and chair in the corner. I sank into the armchair near the window and looked out over L.A.’s congested streets.
“I can’t believe I’m here.” I plucked at some fluff on my yoga pants. “In this hotel room, in this position. It’s so surreal.”
“I bet.” Diya hung our dresses in the closet and lined our shoes up beneath them. “Let’s take advantage of this time, though. Just chill out. Get some studying done. Order room service.”
“And porn?”
“Definitely porn.”
I laughed for the first time in days.
“Thanks, Diya.”
We did exactly that. We studied quietly, ate burgers and pancakes, and watched period dramas. Close enough to porn, anyway. My phone rang occasionally: Kaitlin, a TA for one of my classes, even Duncan, a couple of times. They all left messages, but I decided to leave them unheard. I didn’t need to hear about the salon appointment I was missing or the dance class I’d avoided or how my most recent paper wasn’t up to my usual standard.
After three days of this, a knock came at our hotel room door.
“Did you order room service?” I asked Diya. It was between lunch and dinner, but sometimes we just needed to snack.
Diya’s muffled reply came from the bathroom. I opened the door.
Duncan stood there.
“How did you find me?”
“Hiding celebrities is part of my job. It’s a little harder finding them, but can be done. Trouble is, there’s one I can’t find.”
“Who?”
“Jimmy’s missing.”
My body went cold. “Missing?”
“I last saw him at the video shoot. He isn’t answering my calls. He hasn’t been home in days. No one’s seen him.”
“They’re after both of us,” I whispered.
“Who is?”
“The person sending the notes. What if he’s hurt? What if--.”
“What notes?”
“I’ve been getting notes. Telling me to stay away from Jimmy.”
Duncan scratched his chin. “Jimmy knows how to take care of himself. He’s had to, for a while now.”
“If you believe that, why are you here?”
Duncan was quiet, and it was that silence that cut through me like ice. This was serious. “You’ve talked to the other guys in World Wonder?”
“All of them. No one’s seen Jimmy or talked to him.”
The toilet flushed. “You’ve looked him up…under his real name.”
“I’m not a simpleton.”
“What about his family?”
“His mom doesn’t know where he is.”
“Julia?”
Duncan sighed. “Do you think I haven’t checked all the obvious channels?”
“If you don’t want my help, why are you here?”
“Mostly, because I thought the two of you might be holed up together. Doing make-up…stuff.”
“We don’t
do anything together, anymore.”
“And you won’t, unless I can find him. When did you last talk to him?”
“Am I a suspect? Are you playing detective, Duncan?”
“I found you, didn’t I?”
I laughed to cover up the wild sob that threatened my composure. “I last saw him the day of our shoot. He came to my house. Took a letter that was sent to me, then disappeared.”
“One of the notes you were just talking about?”
I started. Moved to the side as Diya exited the bathroom. “Maybe you should come in.”
Duncan took the armchair, so Diya and I sat on our unmade beds. I related my story to him, not leaving out a single detail, or a single suspect. He listened without interrupting. When I finished, he scratched his chin again.
I swallowed and asked the question niggling in the back of my mind.
“It wasn’t you, was it, Duncan?”
“Sending the notes? Not a chance.”
“That’s what Jimmy said. But who?”
“I don’t know. Could be anyone. Some anonymous weirdo. But at least I know what Jimmy’s up to. He cares about you. A lot. Never stops talking about you. It’s pretty sickening. He’ll take any threat to you seriously.”
“Yeah, I’m his ticket to producer stardom.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow.
“He told me about him and Julia,” I explained.
“Right.” Duncan played with the zipper on his windbreaker. “Look, you got to understand, that kind of thing is typical in this industry. But all of those…relationships…begin with one thing--.”
“A lie?” I cut in.
“A contract. Both parties know exactly what they’re doing. Can you say the same for you and Jimmy?”
I knew he meant the contract part. And there was a little corner of my heart that flared with warm hope. But even though the flame wouldn’t go out, there still was a lot of darkness, too. “No, I can’t honestly say we both knew what we were doing.”
Duncan grunted. Rose to his feet. “I’m guessing he’ll get in touch with you when he knows something. I’m hoping he’ll get in touch with me before then. But whenever you talk to him next, call me.”
The light in my heart snuffed out as a terrible possibility flitted through my mind. “What if I don’t hear from him? What if the person stalking me…went after him?”