by J. S. Carol
The SWAT guys managed to keep Ted Marley alive just long enough to defuse the bomb. It was a close thing. Marley hadn’t been bluffing. The bomb was big enough to take out a whole city block. If his intention was to ensure that Tricia wasn’t forgotten, then he has succeeded. Her name and face are all over the news, too.
Tricia’s death was a tragedy, but the biggest tragedy of all is that it changes nothing. There will be more Tricia Marleys in the future. Nothing can stop that. For as long as movies are made, there will be no shortage of young girls trampling over each other to star in them. And the hard truth is that for every girl who makes it big, there will be hundreds who don’t. Hundreds of lives destroyed, and for what? Who are the winners here? Are there any?
Ed Richards’ people have severed all ties with Brightlight. You haven’t lost any sleep over this. After what happened there is no way you’ll ever be able to look at him the same way again. The feeling is no doubt mutual. His new PR firm has already gone on a major offensive, which is understandable. After all, Richards is a billion-dollar brand. Whether or not this will do any good, time will tell. You’ve got your doubts, though. Something like this is going to leave scars. The Ed Richards who’s smiling for the cameras today is not the same Ed Richards who walked into Alfie’s three days ago.
His marriage will be the first casualty. It survived the Sabrina scandal, but only just. The fact that all that bad history is being dredged up again will be the final nail in the coffin. His next film will probably do well on the back of what happened, but then the decline will start. Three years from now he’ll be struggling to get parts in B-movies. Five years from now he’ll either have made it through rehab or he’ll be dead. That’s the way you see it going. Maybe you’re wrong, but you don’t think so. You know how this town works better than anyone.
As for Alex King, he’s disappeared off the face of the planet. The first rumour you heard was that he’s gone to India to find himself. Your guess is that his management company will find him first. Right now he’s more golden than ever. Give it a few years and he’ll be a billion-dollar brand in his own right.
The second rumour you heard was that he isn’t alone. If that one turns out to be true, then you wish him all the luck in the world. You think he’ll probably be okay. At least you hope he will. You kind of like the kid.
Tony is doing okay. One of the hundred and one things you love about him is the fact that nothing much fazes him for long. His broken nose will heal and the bruises will fade, and he’ll eventually find a way to move on. The offers are already flooding in. Film, TV, books. Out of respect for the victims he has kept his silence. He says he has no intention of talking, but that won’t last forever. The money being offered will climb higher and eventually he’ll cave. When it reaches that point you’ll suggest he hands a percentage over to LA Abuse. That would go a long way to stemming any accusations of cashing in.
Alfie’s is currently closed and will remain so for the foreseeable future. When its doors do eventually reopen it will be harder than ever to get a booking. People will naturally be curious, and they’ll happily pay good money to have that curiosity satiated. The fact they’ll get a great meal pales into insignificance next to the kudos they’ll gain by saying they’ve eaten at Alfie’s.
Now that you’ve unplugged yourself from the twenty-first century, you can move on to phase two of your plan. Skipping the country. LAX is a total paparazzi magnet, so this is a no-go. You know this because you’ve used it to your advantage on numerous occasions. Instead, you’re going to hire a car. Something cheap and anonymous. In other words, something that’s the complete opposite of your Maserati. Then you’re going to drive south to the border and slip quietly into Mexico.
Maybe you’ll stay in Mexico, or maybe you’ll catch the first plane to the most remote island you can find. Wherever you end up, your cell phone will remain switched off, and you will avoid the Internet, newspapers and TV. For the next two weeks the Amish will be more plugged in than you are. During that time the only thing you need to work on is your tan, and the only thing you need to worry about is where you’re going to eat dinner.
You reckon two weeks is long enough for a media storm of this magnitude to blow over. Five days to a week is the usual length for a full-on Hollywood mourning period, but this situation is unique, so it’s bound to stretch on a bit longer. Nothing like this has happened before, and you pray nothing like it will ever happen again. You can imagine how things will play out. There will be plenty of fake tears, empty platitudes and heartfelt soliloquies. Then, after a couple of weeks, the tears will dry up and it will be business as usual.
At the end of the day the only real winner here is the media. Their job is to stoke the fire then stand back and let everyone else deal with the aftermath. That’s the way things have always been. The way things will always be. This story still has some life left in it, but the news channels will already be searching for the next big thing, whatever that might be. An airplane crash, a terrorist attack, a celebrity scandal, whatever. Give it another couple of weeks and nobody will care about you anymore, which suits you fine.
Once things finally die down you’ll move on to phase three of your plan.
You’ve been given a second chance and that means you’re going to take a long, hard look at your life. As usual, you’re going to make two lists. One for the pros and one for the cons. Then you’re going to pick your life apart piece by piece. Some things will end up in the pros column, but, inevitably, most will end up under cons. There will be no bending or shaping, not this time. There will be no spin. You’re going to visit places you don’t want to visit. You’re going to face up to some uncomfortable truths. You won’t want to do this, but you’ll do it anyway, because to do otherwise would be an insult to the memory of all those who died.
Your name is Jody Johnson and, for once, you have no idea what the future holds. All you know for certain is that you have a future, and for that you are eternally grateful.
Letter from JS Carol
Dear reader,
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Thanks for spending some time with me. It’s been a blast. Hopefully I traumatised you; at the very least maybe I scared you a little. If nothing else, I’d like to think that I’ve entertained you, since that’s what this game is all about. You know, the best compliment I ever received was from a woman who’d taken her kids on holiday to Florida. The kids were waiting at the door of their apartment, desperate to go and meet Mickey and the gang, while she was telling them that they had to wait because she needed to finish the book. I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for the kids, or pleased that my book had had the desired effect.
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If you’ve come this far, then maybe you’d like to go a little bit further and post a review. As a reader, one of the things I like most is discovering new books and new writers, and the way I do that is through word of mouth. Someone tells me they love a book, I just have to go and check it out. That’s the way it works.
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And feel free to drop me a line. It would be great to hear from you. The easiest way is through my website. That’s where you’ll also find information about my new books. There’s always something in the pipeline. It might be another Jefferson Winter tale or one of these standalones. Whatever it is, hopefully it’ll be tempting enough for you to pick up a copy, pull up a chair, and lose yourself for a few hours.
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Use the link below to sign up to my mailing list; that way, I can let you know when my next book will be released. And don’t worry, your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
JS Carol email sign-up
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Anyway, happy reading, and if you do come across any good books, please let me know!
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Until next time,
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James
@JamesCarolBooks
www.james-carol.com
Also by the Author
&
nbsp; Writing as James Carol:
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Broken Dolls
Presumed Guilty
Watch Me
Hush Little Baby
Prey
Published by Bookouture
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An imprint of StoryFire Ltd. 23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN, United Kingdom
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www.bookouture.com
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Copyright © James Carol 2016
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James Carol has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-78681-031-1