American Diva

by Julia London

  One of the stagehands appeared with Bruno. With a sigh, Jack took the furry football and freed the stagehand from dog duty. With Bruno on a leash that stretched miles, Jack walked around the back of the buses, where he paused so Bruno could take care of business.

  Something caught his eye. There was a man standing on the loading dock, in the shadows. Jack walked around and in between two buses, so that he could move closer to the loading dock without being detected. When he got closer, and could see the dock again, he started a little.

  The man hovering about was Rich, wearing a long dark coat, one hand holding a lit cigarette, the other hand deep in a pocket of the coat. Over his shoulder was a small black gym bag. He stood back, as if he meant to be in the shadows, watching the loading.

  He was waiting, Jack thought. Waiting for Audrey.

  Jack stepped back, deeper into the shadows himself, but where he could still see Rich. He watched him as the roadies loaded, and when they went back inside the amphitheater, Rich moved. With a furtive look around, he walked to the first bus, Audrey’s bus, and boarded.

  Jack quickly followed, tethering Bruno to the bus’s sideview mirror. He stood outside, waiting in the shadows. A few moments later, Rich reappeared and stepped off the bus and Bruno, bless him, went berserk. He had no idea that tiny dog could turn so ferocious.

  It startled Rich; Jack stepped in front of him. “What’s up?” Jack asked casually.

  Rich gasped and quickly dropped his head so that Jack wouldn’t see the makeup he was wearing. It was too late—Jack had seen the garish stuff around his eyes and mouth and the inexplicable dusting of white powder on his face.

  “I was just putting some stuff on the bus,” Rich said. “What’s up?”

  “You know the rules—no bags go on the bus until we’re here to see it. It’s a security measure.”

  Rich shrugged and looked down the lane between the buses. “I forgot.”

  “So what did you put on the bus?” Jack asked.

  Rich looked at him from the corner of his eye. “A bag,” he said. “That’s all. It’s hardly a security breach.”

  “You’re probably right. But let’s just have a look to make sure,” he said, and grabbed Rich by the arm. “Why don’t you show me what’s so special about this bag that you had to load it yourself?”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rich cried, trying to yank his arm free as Bruno went for his ankles. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

  Jack pushed him up the stairs of the bus. Bruno’s frantic barking increased.

  “The police questioned me and let me go—you have no right,” Rich shouted, struggling against him. But he was a smaller man, and his strength was no match for Jack’s. “Take your hands off me or I will kill you!”

  “Before or after you kill Audrey?” Jack asked, and shoved Rich inside. “Where is it?”

  “You’re insane,” Rich said, rubbing his arm where Jack had held him.

  “I’ll ask nicely once, and then I will crack your head open. Where the hell is it?”

  With a roar, Rich lunged for him, but Jack had choreographed more fights than Rich had ever seen, and easily caught him, turned him around, and threw him down on the couch. He twisted one arm behind Rich’s back and pressed his knee into the elbow. Rich howled with pain just as Ted bounded on the bus, alarmed by Bruno’s frantic barking.

  “What the hell?” Ted said, and moved to help Jack.

  Jack found the bag Rich had hidden in a floorboard compartment beneath the carpet. He dropped it in front of Rich and unzipped it and proceeded to withdraw a gun, a weird pair of fangs, a blond wig, and a small bag containing the makeup Rich was wearing. There was also a laptop computer, an envelope addressed to Audrey in the same script as had been taped to the fake bomb, and a vial of something red and thick.

  Jack looked at Rich and held up the vial. “What are you, a vampire?”

  “I will have you arrested for this,” Rich snarled.

  “Twisted, man,” Bucky said, shaking his head at the contents of Rich’s bag.

  “You people have no idea how much trouble you’re in,” Rich said angrily.

  “Well, you can tell the cops all about it when they get here, which should be any minute now,” Jack said, and pushed Rich down on the couch to wait it out.

  Two hours later, Rich, who was as meticulous with organizing his threatening letters as he was with Audrey’s finances, was on his way to the Little Rock jail. Jack left Ted in charge of making sure everyone got on a bus for Dallas, scooped up Bruno, and went in search of Audrey.

  He was exhausted, having slept very little in the last twenty-four hours, and needless to say, his emotions had been through a roller coaster. He was drained of life, running on pure adrenaline. But he knew what he had to do.

  Audrey knew something was up when she saw Jack striding down the corridor, holding a panting Bruno like a football. She was still reeling from the news that her business manager was the one behind the threats, that Rich, who had been taking her very generous pay for his services, was plotting to kill her at the same time.

  It was almost more than she could absorb. “Vampire?” she’d echoed with disbelief when Detective Ruiz told her about Rich. “What do you mean, vampire?”

  “I mean the dude is kinky,” the detective said with a shrug. “But I think he’s probably harmless. He’s the sort to like the drama and the world of make-believe, but he doesn’t have the guts to carry out any fantasy. In other words, he’s not quite in touch with reality.”

  “How is this possible?” she asked Lucas. “I had no idea he was so obsessed with me. Didn’t we check this guy out?” she asked Lucas.

  “Of course we did,” Lucas said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “But we didn’t ask him if he had a vampire fetish.”

  “Not to worry, Miss LaRue. The guy won’t be bothering you again.”

  Audrey hardly heard another word the man said about arraignment and bail and so forth. She was in shock. But Lucas listened, nodding and speaking for her.

  She couldn’t stop thinking that she didn’t really know Rich. She had entrusted some very important matters to a man she really didn’t even know. Honestly, she could count on one hand the number of conversations they’d had. It was absurd—how could she not have known him?

  Worse yet, now she had a business that no longer had a manager and she didn’t know her business any better than she apparently knew Rich.

  When Lucas had left her in the dressing room to go and gather his gear, that’s all she could think about. How could you be with someone day in and day out and not know them? How could you come so far without really knowing yourself?

  When she saw Jack at her door, her stomach flipped. She knew instinctively what was behind his stoic expression . . . perhaps because she felt the same thing so keenly in herself.

  “Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

  She couldn’t speak. But she nodded. Jack stepped inside, quietly closed the door behind him, and put Bruno down.

  Audrey folded her arms defensively across her middle. “It was Rich,” she said, her voice cracking. “Rich! I can’t believe it—what did I ever do to him?”

  “You didn’t do anything. He’s a sick puppy, that’s all.”

  “Detective Ruiz told me that you were the one who figured it out and that you caught him.”

  Jack shrugged and glanced down. “You can relax for the remainder of the tour. You’re safe now.”

  “Because you’ll be there.”

  He didn’t speak, did not rush to assure her he’d be there, that he’d always be there. He glanced up and held her gaze, and Audrey felt a larger piece inside of her crumble.

  “What’s going on?” she forced herself to ask.

  “I’m leaving the tour,” he said softly.

  Now everything in her crumbled like a sand house. Her knees buckled and she sank onto a chair, gaping at him. “Why?”

  “The real threat is gone now. You don’t need me anymore.�
�

  “Of course I need you. I have two weeks left on the tour and I can’t do it without security.”

  He smiled wryly. “Not exactly the reason I hoped you’d want me here, but then again, not much is as I’d hoped.”

  “Jack . . . you know what I mean. Of course I don’t want you to go. I love you.”

  “But you need time. An indefinite amount of time.”

  She couldn’t refute it.

  “And I need space. I can’t walk around here watching you and hearing you and not be with you. I’ve just never been very good at waiting in the wings.”

  “Can’t you try and wait this out? I would wait it out for you. I would try and understand where you were coming from and wait it out,” she insisted, while a voice inside her argued she would not wait.

  “It’s not the same thing—it seems like I’m waiting to find out who you’ll ultimately choose. You’d be waiting for me to finish a job.”

  Her heart twisted, and Audrey sucked in a sharp breath. She hadn’t realized it would hurt as much as this. She suddenly stood and went to him, placing her hand against his chest. She looked up into his eyes and her heart twisted harder. “Why can’t this be easy?” she whispered.

  He covered her hand with his and pressed it against his heart. “I wish I knew,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I love you, sweet cheeks,” he said low. “I love you more than I can say.”

  “I love you, too,” she said. “But I don’t know how to get to you.”

  He put his arm around her and rubbed her back soothingly for a moment. But then he let go and reached into his chest pocket and withdrew a card. “If you ever figure it out, you can find me here,” he said, and gave her the card. “Be good, sweet cheeks.”

  “Jack—”

  He stopped her with two fingers to her chin. He touched his lips to hers, then let his hand drift away. He opened the door at his back and stepped out, letting it close behind him.

  On the other side of the door, Audrey’s legs buckled at last, and she sank to her knees, bracing her hands on the carpet as grief racked her body.

  AUDREY AND LUCAS: SPLITSVILLE!

  (Celebrity Insider Magazine) Reps won’t comment, but Audrey LaRue and Lucas Bonner are on the skids, according to a source. “There was a definite and visible strain between them at a Dallas hotel,” the source says. Personnel associated with LaRue’s Frantic tour say the split has been in the making for some time.

  CELEBRITY BUSINESS MANAGER ARRESTED FOR TERRORISTIC THREATS

  (Arkansas Times, Little Rock) The business manager for Audrey LaRue, singing sensation and pop star, was arrested Friday for making terroristic threats to Ms. LaRue. According to police, Richard Later, 42, has a history of stalking and menacing behavior against former girlfriends. LaRue could not be reached for comment.

  Thirty-one

  Jack had been back in L.A. for two weeks before he allowed the other TA guys to talk him into a night on the town.

  “Think about it, man,” Cooper drawled into the phone. “Women. Beer. And the best company a guy could ask for.”

  Jack debated it. In truth, he was tired of holing up at the hangar. When the weather wasn’t clear, he worked on his plane. But when it was, he went flying, soaring high above the earth all by himself, into his little piece of the universe. It was the only place he was at peace. It was also the only place he could escape news about Audrey.

  Shortly after he’d arrived back in L.A., the news broke about her former business manager, and her face, her beautiful smiling face, was plastered on every paper and TV tabloid in town.

  “The usual place?” he asked Cooper.

  “Yep,” Coop said, and Jack could envision his buoyant smile. “The bar on Franklin Ave. We’ve been saving you a seat.”

  “See you there,” Jack said, and hung up. And for the first time in a couple of weeks, he smiled.

  Not only were the guys waiting for him, but so were their significant others. Marnie and Leah, Eli and Michael’s partners, respectively, threw their arms around him at the same time. “Jack, you poor thing,” Marnie said, pulling him to sit beside her.

  “God, Marnie, don’t say that,” Leah cried.

  “Why? What’s wrong with me?” Jack asked.

  Leah’s eyes narrowed menacingly on Marnie. “See?”

  “Nothing,” Marnie said, ignoring Leah as she caressed Jack’s shoulder. “We just really missed you, that’s all.”

  Jack looked across the table at Michael and Eli, who were looking uncharacteristically sheepish. Cooper smiled a little, and his girlfriend, Jill, looked at Jack as if she’d never seen him before.

  “What?” Jack demanded. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

  “So hey,” Michael said, sitting up. “Did you catch that game your brother Parker played Monday night?” he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

  “Yeah,” Jack said, and grinned. “I taught him how to play ball, you know.”

  “Oh no, here we go,” Cooper said with a playful groan. “Before the evening is out, he will have taught Eli how to rope a steer and me how to surf a wind.”

  “Don’t deny it, Coop. You would be fish food right now if it wasn’t for me,” Jack said, and they were suddenly arguing about who had taught whom what, just like old times.

  Jack thoroughly enjoyed the evening and even wondered aloud why he hadn’t been out before now. He was beginning to believe he could put the summer behind him and move on with his life. After a few beers, he was talking about his flight school and how he’d figured out how to open it without the windfall of the tour.

  No one questioned him about the tour; the guys nodded and added their two cents while the women chatted across them about sales and shoes, or something like that.

  It was a comfortable, familiar evening, and Jack felt as good as he’d felt since he left Little Rock.

  He felt good until he got home later and made himself a sandwich. He kicked back in front of the TV, was flipping channels, and landed on Inside Edition, a celebrity news show. He paused there—it was always good for a laugh, because he knew so many people who showed up on the half-hour broadcast.

  But he was not prepared to see Audrey. Not a minute into the broadcast, they flashed a publicity picture of her up on the screen. The picture was followed by footage of her and Bonner walking out of a club on Sunset.

  The anchor was saying something about her being in L.A. after the conclusion of a very successful national tour, and that there was some talk of her doing a tour in Europe.

  Europe.

  Jack clicked off the TV and put aside his uneaten sandwich, his appetite gone. He supposed a part of him still harbored a hope for Audrey. But that hope was effectively crushed by the footage of her with Bonner and the knowledge that she was on her way to Europe.

  He turned off the lights and sat in the dark for God knew how long.

  It had been so long since Audrey had actually driven herself anywhere that she could not remember when or where. At least Bruno liked it—he was stretched out as long as his body would go, trying to see out the window on their drive out to Orange County.

  Fortunately for California drivers, Audrey found the airfield easily enough. It was Jack she couldn’t seem to find. She drove through the hangars at least three times with no luck. She finally stopped and asked a couple if they knew where Jack Price had his plane.

  “You’re Audrey LaRue!” the man exclaimed as his gaze shifted to her boobs.

  “I am,” Audrey said, and picked up Bruno, obscuring the man’s view of her body. “I am trying to find my friend. He has a hangar out here. Do you know him?”

  “Ah, no,” the man said, still grinning at Audrey. “But if you like, I can get in and we can drive around and look.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll find it!” Audrey said cheerfully and punched the up button on her window and drove on. “Loser,” she muttered.

  She next saw an elderly man walking out to his car. This man seemed not to k
now or care who she was.

  “Jack Price,” he said thoughtfully, then squinted at the row of hangars. “Stunt man who builds planes in his spare time?”

  Audrey’s heart skipped a beat. “That’s him!”

  He pointed to his right. “The hangar with the blue door.”

  She peered down the lot to the hangar with the blue door. “Thank you!” But the man had already walked away.

  Audrey drew a steadying breath and glanced at Bruno. “I hope you’re ready, pal,” she warned him. Bruno wiggled on the seat. Audrey took that as a sign he was ready and drove to the last hangar.

  She parked behind the structure, away from the airstrip. She put Bruno on his gold-studded leash, got out of the car, and checked her appearance in the window’s reflection. She’d worn her best skirt and heels for this, and a gauzy blouse that he always seemed to appreciate. Her heart was pounding as she walked to the door and knocked. She stepped back and waited, the throbbing of her pulse getting harder and harder. And she stood. And stood.

  After a few moments, she cupped her hands around her face and peered inside the little window—the door opened into a tiny little office. There was a desk stacked high with paper and a motory-looking thing that acted as a paperweight. There was a file cabinet, a single chair, and several diagrams posted on the walls. And there was another door, which, she presumed, led into the hangar.

  But there was no Jack. “Dammit,” she muttered. “Damn!” It had taken her two days to get up the nerve to come out here. She turned around and leaned against the door. Bruno went up on his hind legs, his front legs pawing the air.

  “Fine,” she said, and let him off the leash. He instantly scrambled to the corner of the hangar to lift his leg. “Don’t go far!” she shouted at him, and walked in the opposite direction. As she came around the front of the hangar, her heart sank with disappointment. It was closed. Jack was not here and God only knew where he might be. She should have called him, but she decided against it for the same reason she hadn’t called him since arriving in L.A. First, she was afraid he’d hang up on her, and second, she really needed to see him. Just see him.