“Have you eaten?” Jay asked.
Suddenly, Sonja’s stomach cramped, reminding her of how hungry she was. “No, I haven’t.”
“That’s great. Cam is going to serve breakfast soon. Have a seat.”
She sat in a chair beside Dexter, and for a moment, it looked as though Jay was bothered by it.
Jay readjusted in his seat then circled his shoulders. “Dexter and I were talking about ways to end episode five.”
All the anxiety from her meeting with her grandmother came rushing back. Sonja groaned internally in anguish.
“You said we needed to talk. What’s going on?” Jay asked, apparently sensing her agony.
She slumped in her chair. “I just met with Gran.”
“Lorraine?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “She read my script and didn’t like that the grandmother was the murderer, nor does she like that Ms. Jenkins, a tenant who lives in my building, is depicted in the story.”
“Ida Lawry is based on this tenant?” Dexter asked, frowning curiously.
“Yes,” Sonja said, wishing he would stop asking the questions that exposed the sore parts her grandmother had a right to complain about.
“And Rose Ready is based on your grandmother?”
“Yes,” she replied sharply, then massaged the tension at the back of her neck. “And so because those two characters are based on her and this tenant, Gran wants me to write Rose and Ida out of the story or renege on the contract.”
Jay and Dexter looked at each other. It was obvious they were having the same trouble wrapping their minds around her grandmother’s request. Actually, it was quite bold, and pretty entitled, of Gran to make such a demand.
Jay grimaced as the tip of his finger tapped out his frustration on the table. “That’s kind of an irrational request, don’t you think?”
“Very,” Sonja replied.
“Is the entire story based on her life?” Dexter asked calmly.
“Well, sort of. Yeah,” Sonja said, wondering where he was going with his line of questioning.
“Did she give you permission to write it?”
Sonja felt her eyebrows squish together. “No.”
Dexter rubbed his face with both hands.
“She doesn’t have a case, does she?” Jay asked.
Dexter sighed briskly. “I don’t know. Maybe, but I can tell you that Vince isn’t going to want the headache. I know him. He’ll drop the project if she starts a fight.”
Jay cursed sharply under his breath.
“Listen”—Dexter looked at her with penetrating focus—“you said the screenplay is based on the truth. Tell me the story about your grandmother and let’s see what we can do to fix this.”
She started from the beginning, retelling all that she knew about her grandmother and her first husband, Harlan Duke. At some point, she took a break so that they could move to the dining table on the opposite side of the balcony for breakfast.
Jay’s cook, Cam, was an attractive brunette who had bought herself the perfect pair of breasts. Sonja found herself wondering if she and Jay had ever slept together, especially because of the way Cam’s eyes danced and her lips pulled into a giddy smile whenever she looked at or addressed him. They were served Denver omelets and home fries with the fresh coffee Sonja had been craving.
“So tell me more about this tenant of yours?” Dexter asked. He was eating while tapping something on his cell phone.
“Well… she’s an old acquaintance of my grandmother’s, only I have no idea how they ever became friends and I kind of believe they can’t stand each other.”
Dexter lifted his beautiful eyes off the phone, and his glower landed on her. “Why do you say that?”
She cleared her throat. If only Robin was there, or Theresa. One of them would be able to confirm that she was actually seeing what she was seeing—Dexter Frampton could be the most handsome man in the world. She would actually bet her entire bank account on it.
“Are you okay, Sonja?” Jay asked.
When she turned to look at him, he was frowning as though he were guzzling baking soda.
“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat again and refocused on Dexter. “I say that because Ms. Jenkins, the tenant, only likes to gossip about how my grandmother cares about money over how happy tenants are, even when my grandmother ensures that I hop to it whenever Ms. Jenkins calls.” Sonja’s body shivered as every fiber of her being remembered how much she hated waiting on that woman. “She has, like, a million cats and I’m allergic and she knows it. It’s as if they know to attack me whenever I go into her apartment. I swear she’s trained them to be an army against me.”
Jay snickered, but Dexter’s serious expression remained.
“I see,” Dexter said. “And why do you think your grandmother dislikes Ms. Jenkins?”
It took Sonja a moment to recover. Whenever she had the opportunity to vent about Ms. Jenkins, her emotions always got away from her. She suddenly realized how unhealthy that was, both emotionally and physically.
“Well”—she exhaled forcefully—“the opposite of love is indifference, and as far as my grandmother is concerned, Ms. Jenkins is like a bill she has to pay, nothing more or less.”
“That’s not the Lorraine I remember. Your gran was always sincere with the people she let hang around.” Jay smiled slightly. “She was the one adult who used to ask me how I was doing and expected to hear the truth.”
Sonja and Jay stared at each other, smiling. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her too.
“So I’ve been sitting here doing some research,” Dexter said. Sonja ripped her eyes from Jay’s in time to see Dexter look up from his phone. “Ever heard of the NewsBank Database?”
“Um,” she said, blinking hard, trying to erase from her mind the way Jay had been watching her. “No.”
“It holds just about all the articles from every newspaper or magazine that ever existed, no matter how large or small.” He sat back comfortably in his seat. “I did a search for oil baron Harlan Duke and foul play. Only one article came up. It was written in 1999 and conclusively claims that Harlan Duke died in his sleep, not from poisoning. And”—he raised a finger pointedly—“there’s a quote here from Cyrus Wright, one of his business partners that says, ‘Harlan has been missed by all of us. He was a good man, and a friend to everyone who crossed his path. For Christ’s sake, let him rest in peace.’”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound like murder to me. So maybe murder isn’t what has my grandmother so rattled.”
Dexter stopped looking at her so intensely as he sat back in his seat again. “Here’s what gets me. Your grandmother had a foot in the big boy’s club.” He shook his fist for impact. “The third largest oil field in the country is in Midland, Texas.”
Sonja shook her head. “I know where you’re going with this. Yes, my gran is extremely ambitious, but they didn’t want a widow involved in what they considered men’s business back then.”
“But your grandmother migrated to Los Angeles and not only became involved in men’s business but dominated. LH Real Estate Group did over sixty-three billion in sales last year.”
Frustration raced through Sonja’s body. “Yes. She’s very successful. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Your grandmother sounds like a fighter, that’s all.”
“She was young. She developed into a fighter.”
Dexter sat up straight. He must’ve sensed Sonja’s defensiveness because he had a cautious look in his eyes. “I’m sorry if my questions offend you. I’m just trying to figure out if there’s any way you can pull another story out of the same world you created.”
A familiar feeling gripped Sonja. It was as if her mind had suddenly hit the same brick wall it had been smashing into for the last five years. “Another story?”
“Yeah. Your grandmother sounds as though she’s insisting you change the story. I don’t have a problem with giving it a try. But if my instincts, which are
pretty good, serve me correct, you do.”
“Huh?” she asked, now more confused than ever.
“Well… I’ve been around a lot of writers, and you’re one of the best. I’ve read your screenplay five times and each reading has given me the same visceral reactions. You’ve written the story from a raw place inside you. Could you do it again?”
Sonja looked at Jay with her mouth caught open. He seemed eager to hear her answer. She focused her gaze out over the valley of sporadic clusters of skyscrapers surrounded by shorter edifices. The day was smoggy, but the entire scene was uniquely LA. Was it time to confess what she had known for so long?
She swallowed even though her throat felt tight. “I can’t.”
Jay’s neck craned forward. “You wrote the screenplay, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said emphatically. “But I’ve had writer’s block ever since.” When she sighed, it was as if her entire body could finally relax after so many years. “It’s like I got fixated on the details surrounding the nature of Gran and Ms. Jenkins’ association and my brain has been telling me, ‘Either you stick with it or I give you nothing.’”
Dexter nodded as if he understood exactly what she was talking about. “Could I suggest something?”
She shrugged, willing to hear whatever he had to say.
“Have you ever been to Midland, Texas?”
Sonja gulped as she felt her head floating away from her body. “Um, no.”
“Have you ever spoken with anyone who knew your grandmother when she lived there?”
She shook her head.
Dexter sighed briskly. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t like the story as is. On a scale from one to ten, it’s a solid ten. Screw with what you’ve already written and we could end up kissing zero. Or…” He raised his eyebrows twice. “You can evolve the story and, in the process, discover something Vince will still get behind.”
“I agree,” Jay said, nodding. “Plus, I have a lot of money tied up in this project too.”
“Then you both should go to Midland. In your case, a dose of reality may help cure your writer’s block.”
“I’m in. I can have us flown there today,” Jay said.
Sonja’s mouth fell open. The idea of actually banging around in her grandmother’s past scared the daylights out of her. However, Dexter was right. Her mother had emotionally abandoned her from the moment she was born, but her gran never had. Sonja felt she knew all there was to learn about Carrie Anne, her wayward mother, but never enough about the woman who had saved her soul. She wanted to know more. She needed to. Sonja had no doubt that the fact she’d kept her grandmother on an unreachable pedestal had something to do with whatever was causing her writer’s block. The time had come for her to learn all she could about Lorraine Hester.
So she closed her mouth and swallowed the lump of fear that sat heavily in the back of her throat. “Okay. I’ll go.”
Chapter 10
Jay arranged a flight out of Santa Monica Airport, which was supposed to depart with just the two of them in four hours. Sonja had tried to convince Dexter to join them, but his friend Daisy Lord was having a grand opening event for her new restaurant on Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice on Saturday night and he didn’t want to miss it. Apparently this woman was the wife of a billionaire named Jack Lord. Whenever Dexter mentioned Daisy, Sonja saw the secret hidden behind his glossy eyes. He was in love with her, but his affection was unrequited.
And so after Jay had packed a suitcase, they got into his way-too-expensive sports car and drove to her place. Sonja had to admit that when the gate to the complex opened, she preferred the uniqueness of where she lived over Jay’s cold mansion made of stone, glass, stainless steel, and granite.
Once they were inside her apartment, she had no time to linger. First she changed into something more comfortable. They had checked the weather before leaving Jay’s. It’s hot in Texas. As soon as she threw her suitcase on the bed, the doorbell chimed.
“Jay, could you get that please?” she called, knowing it wasn’t Ms. Jenkins. She never walked up the stairs.
“Sure thing,” he replied.
A few moments later, she heard Jay and Robin greeting each other like the long-lost friends they were. Of course Jay sounded more excited than Robin, who was not an expressive person to begin with. Her cousin had earned the nickname Wednesday—the unsmiling daughter from the Addams Family—in junior high school. Even though she’d inherited Gran’s porcelain skin and light ash hair, in the tenth grade, Robin had started dying her mane jet black and kept it cut in a strict bob. She had stopped coloring her hair two years ago, but she maintained the same haircut. Now she could pass for a Russian spy named Natasha.
Sonja put her a pair of jeans into the suitcase and clamped it shut as she listened to Robin explain to Jay that she was thinking about putting her artwork on hold to work for Gran full time. It was shocking to hear.
“Wow,” Sonja said as she hurried out of the room, carrying her suitcase. “You’re going to abandon your hopes and dreams to work for Gran?”
Robin looked at her with a blasé expression. “Hopes and dreams? That’s kind of dramatic.”
Sonja’s heart was beating a mile a minute. At the moment, she felt as though she was running off to Midland, Texas, while Robin was dancing off into the sunset to live happily ever after with Gran.
“Don’t worry, Son, you’re still her favorite,” Robin said.
“Here let me have this.” Jay took the suitcase out of Sonja’s hand before she could properly hand it over.
Sonja scratched her shoulder, embarrassed by the fact that she was jealous and, as usual, Robin saw right through her.
“It was good seeing you, Robbie. The three of us should grab lunch or dinner before Sonja and I head off to Canada on Wednesday,” Jay said.
Robin folded her arms tightly against her body as her eyes veered down to the suitcase. “I’m sorry, but where are you two going?”
“Midland, Texas,” Jay replied.
Robin frowned at Sonja as she leaned back. “Wait? Isn’t that where Gran’s from?”
“Gran’s from Michigan,” Sonja replied.
Robin narrowed an eye. “Really? Are we going to quibble over semantics?”
Sonja grunted and rolled her eyes. She was forced to divulge to Robin all that had come out of her talk with Gran that morning, which in turn had sparked their trip to Texas.
“But it’s not really so hard to change the story, is it?”
Sonja truly hated when her cousin looked at her that way, as though she could see all of her insecurities, fears, and issues. “Yes. And that’s why we’re going.”
“Does Gran know you’re going to Midland to dig around in her past?”
Sonja wanted to blow a gasket. Robin sounded so self-righteous. “No.”
“Son, there’s a reason why she hasn’t told you all the shit you’ve been dying to know.”
Sonja stood there, blinking at Robin like a fly that had just realized it had been sprayed with insecticide.
“You know what?” Robin waved flippantly at Sonja. “Maybe this is something you have to do. You’re, like, obsessed with the curse, Ms. Jenkins, and my grandfather’s death. Maybe you need answers so you can stop inventing them.”
Suddenly, Sonja was flooded by a sense of relief. “You won’t tell Gran then?”
Robin shook her head disapprovingly. “No. And I can stay out of her path until you get back but…”
Sonja heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
Robin raised a finger in warning. “Just get this over and done with already.” She grabbed the doorknob. “And don’t worry about your commitment to show me around the office today and tomorrow. I’ll figure things out. I just need passwords to—”
“Everything you’ll need is on the computer in a file named Universal Key. I’ll text you the password to get onto the computer.”
With one last eye roll, even more unsmiling than usual, Robin said, �
��Thanks.” She turned back to Jay. “Good to see you, Jay.”
Sonja rushed over to put a hand on her cousin’s shoulder. “And thank you for not sounding the alarm.”
Robin sighed. “Oh, Sonja.” She patted Sonja’s hand as she looked her in the eyes. “You know you’re rolling the dice here, and the only reason I’m not going to let Gran know that you’re invading her privacy is because I’m positive you’re not going to find anything more than what you already know.”
Now it was Sonja who was searching Robin’s eyes. She knew her cousin well enough to know that she was bullshitting herself. “Do you really think there’s nothing to find?”
Robin tilted her head, and then opened her mouth and closed it.
“We have to get going, Son,” Jay said.
Robin blinked as though she had to turn off the thoughts in her head. “Just call me if you’re there past Monday. Gran is going to Palm Springs with Velma and Clark this weekend, so she’ll be preoccupied.”
“Okay,” said Sonja.
She and Robin kissed each other on the cheek, and her cousin bid her safe travels. As Jay drove, he fielded calls from his agent, who was the most persistent guy Sonja had ever listened to. He kept running down lists of projects he wanted Jay to consider.
“Do you have a pen or something to write this down with?” his agent asked.
“Yep,” Jay said, lying.
And then his agent ran down a to-do list as long as a basketball player’s leg. Meanwhile, Sonja couldn’t stop thinking about what Robin had said—that there was a reason Gran hadn’t told her all the shit she had been dying to know. Just as someone would be obsessed with the assassinations of popular public figures of old or whether some powerful secret society controlled the world, that was how fanatical she had been about her grandmother’s past. Deep down, she knew her grandmother was hiding something.
Gran was one of the most transparent people she had ever known. So why wouldn’t she tell Sonja how she and Ms. Jenkins had met? Even Ms. Jenkins, who couldn’t wait to criticize her gran’s management skills, would never answer the same questions Sonja posed to her grandmother. It was as clear as glass that both women were harboring secrets. It was all too weird, and no one could deny that—not even Robin, who was always a proponent of letting the past drop and moving forward because the present was all that mattered.
Once Friends Page 7