Hollywood Scandals

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Hollywood Scandals Page 19

by Gemma Halliday


  Ouch.

  Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Cal dialing on his cell, probably calling the cops for the second time that day. (Hanging out with me lately, he’d be smart to put them on speed dial.)

  Unfortunately, Alexis saw it, too. Her eyes cut to the door - still being guarded by Cal - then to the bedroom, her body making a split second decision as she bolted toward the bedroom door.

  I lunged after her, one quick step behind. Unfortunately, her legs where a hell of a lot longer than mine, and the door slammed in my face.

  “I’ll go around back,” I heard Cal yell, throwing the front door open.

  I jiggled the bedroom doorknob, but no luck. She’d clearly locked it from the inside. My eyes darted wildly around the apartment for anything I could use to break the thing down. Lamp, CDs, old copies of Variety. Damn.

  Then I spied it. A Golden Globe award from 1983 sitting on the bookshelf.

  I grabbed it, testing the weight in my hand. Stars weren’t kidding in their acceptance speeches. The thing was hefty.

  I lunged for the door again, raising the Golden Globe up over my head, and brought it down as hard as I could on the cheap renter’s doorknob. The force knocked it sideways.

  I heard shouting from the other side of the door. Cal’s voice outside, Alexis screaming back, “Leave me alone! I’m a celebrity!”

  I lifted the award for another go, slamming it down on the dented knob, knocking the brass thing to the ground with a clang. The lock fell away on the other side and I easily pushed the door open, still brandishing the Golden Globe as a weapon.

  “Freeze!” I yelled, suddenly feeling very Law & Order.

  Though it turns out, Alexis didn’t have much choice. She had the screen off her bedroom window, one leg thrown over the sill, her pleather skirt around her waist, and her fishnets caught on the latch, capturing her halfway between Cal and me.

  She was totally stuck.

  And crying, “I want a lawyer. Get me Robert Shapiro. Get me Paris Hilton’s lawyer. I’m too famous to go to jail!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Three cups of coffee, two statements to the cops and four hours later, we were finally released from the police station for the second time that day. I swear the detective in charge was starting to look at me funny. Like I had some golden touch or something but in reverse; whatever I touched eventually ended up in a homicide.

  By the time we pulled Cal’s Hummer back onto the freeway it was 5:30. Prime traffic time. And I only had half an hour to get my threatening column into the printer behind Felix’s back.

  “Can’t this thing go any faster?” I asked as we crawled up the 101.

  Cal shrugged. “Sure. I’ll drive on over the top of these other cars. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  Smartass.

  I pursed my lips together. “Well then, maybe we should take surface streets, huh?”

  He shot me a look. “What’s the hurry, Bender?”

  “Nothing. No hurry. I just… want to get back to work.” I turned my face to the window so he couldn’t read the obvious lie in that statement. If Cal had even a whiff of my plan, there was no way he’d let me follow through with it. Not that I’d normally let or not let anyone tell me what to do, but Cal was bigger, stronger, and I had a feeling he wasn’t above using bodily force if the situation called for it. All in all, the less he knew the better.

  So, even though I felt as antsy as a six-year-old on a double espresso as we inched forward, watching the minutes tick off on the dash clock, I kept my mouth shut. Trying not to do a little impatience dance in my seat.

  At 5:48 the traffic miraculously parted as we neared Hollywood and exited the freeway. I held my breath as we hit two red lights in a row, losing precious seconds, then, of all the luck, got stuck behind a beemer double parked outside a nail salon.

  “I hope you get toe fungus!” I yelled out the window as we finally slipped into the left lane and passed.

  Cal raised an eyebrow my way. “You okay?”

  I shrugged. “What? Double parking is very rude. Oh, there! Right in front!” I pointed to the left as a cab pulled away from the curb, leaving an open space right in front of the Informer‘s building. After making a semi-legal U-turn, Cal maneuvered his tank into it, and I bolted, grabbing Strawberry Shortcake and flying through the lobby with a speed generally only seen in Olympic trials.

  Giving up on the ancient elevator, I took the stairs, jogging up two at a time until I reached the second-floor landing, panting and holding my side. I looked up at the clock over Cece’s desk. 5:56.

  “Jesus, Bender, where have you been?” Allie slipped behind me, whisper-yelling in my ear. “I thought you said six o’clock?”

  “I (pant) did (pant).” I sucked in a big gulp of air, shooting a glance at Felix’s office. He was sitting at his computer, no doubt making all the last minute changes to copy before sending in final draft. “Give me five minutes,” I said, hurtling toward my desk.

  “You only have four!” Allie yelled. Then looked down at her watch and amended it to, “Three now!”

  I ignored her, diving for my desk and pulling up the file I’d typed out earlier. No time to read over it. I prayed it was relatively typo-free.

  I formatted it, logged it into the system, my finger hovering over the send button. 5:59.

  I stood, glancing over the tops of the cubicles toward Felix’s office. Allie sat on the edge of his desk, giggling. Legs crossed, thigh exposed, boobs inches from his face. He was one step away from drooling on his button down shirt. God bless the little tart.

  I pounded my finger down on the enter key, sending my column in just as the clock changed to six. I held my breath, waiting for confirmation that I’d made it in time. Two seconds later, the little window popped up telling me my open note to my stalker would indeed appear in the morning edition.

  I let out a sigh so big it ruffled my hair, then closed my eyes and fell back into my chair with a moan of relief.

  “What was that?”

  My eyes popped open to find Cal suddenly at my side, his gaze on my screen.

  “Uh… my column. I forgot to send it in earlier. Just made it under the wire. Lucky, huh? Well, that’s it for today. Ready to go?” I gave him my best attempt at a breezy smile.

  His eyes narrowed. Unfortunately for me, Cal was no dummy.

  I ignored him, instead grabbing my purse, flipping off my desk light, and heading for the elevator.

  Only I didn’t get far.

  “Bender!”

  I must have been a little on the jumpy side, because at the sound of Felix’s voice booming from his office, I think I peed my pants a little.

  “Yeah?” I squeaked out, my heart leaping into my throat. Please tell me the blonde did her job…

  “Your column,” he said, his eyebrows hunkering down in an angry slash.

  I licked my lips. “What about it?”

  “It’s late.”

  I did a mental sigh of relief so loud, I swear even Aunt Sue could have heard it. “Right. Sorry. I just sent it in. Must have slipped my mind earlier.” I smacked my forehead in a super-graceful move as if to illustrate the point.

  Felix nodded. “Good.” Then disappeared back into his office.

  And I made a beeline for the elevators before anything else could go wrong.

  * * *

  At Cal’s place we found a note from the aunts saying Sue had over boiled the macaroni and they’d gone to pick up hoagies for dinner. Cal mumbled something about getting some paperwork done and headed off to his bedroom. Which was fine with me. After the nerve-wracking day I’d had, I could use a little me time anyway.

  I plopped down on the sofa and booted up my laptop, checking my email. I half-hoped, half-feared another note from my stalker, but my inbox was conspicuously empty. As in no messages at all. Not a one. Marco was right, news of my involvement with the police was spreading faster than a summer wildfire, and my informants had all gone mum.

  This sucked
.

  I prayed my article tomorrow did its job. Otherwise, I was likely to be stuck covering the baby bump beat with Cam for any kernel of a story.

  Trying not to dwell on that unpleasant thought, I pulled up a blank screen and began typing my exclusive story on the fall of a child star turned murderer and the final hours of character actor Jake Mullins. I was halfway through Alexis’s emotional confession - just to the part when she dissed her husband’s acting abilities - when an IM popped up in the corner of my screen.

  Hey, babe.

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  Hi, Black.

  How you doin?

  Got an hour? But I finally settled on, meh.

  Meh? I take it that means not good.

  This story, I explained. It’s… complicated.

  There was a pause. Then, I’m worried about you.

  I felt my throat suddenly clog with emotion. Here I had blown Black off not once, but twice, and not only was he not mad, not even mentioning my standing him up, but he was genuinely worried about me.

  I’m okay.

  You sure?

  I nodded at the empty living room. Yep.

  I’ve missed you.

  I’ve missed you, too, I typed, honestly meaning it. Okay, so I knew Black was a fantasy. And our whole relationship consisted of a few words on a screen. But I had missed him. I’d missed having someone who cared enough to ask if I was okay. I’d missed having someone I felt comfortable talking to. Really talking. Honestly. Maybe it was because of the anonymity, the fact that I’d never really expected to meet Black in person, but I felt I could be honest with him in a way I couldn’t with anyone else in my life. I didn’t really know why. And I didn’t want to analyze it. All I knew was, he felt good. And I’d missed it.

  Hey… knock knock, he typed.

  I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth tilting up.

  Who’s there?

  Madame.

  Madame who?

  Madame foot’s caught in the door.

  I laughed out loud.

  Good one.

  Thanks. Talk tomorrow?

  Definitely. And this time, I really meant it.

  ‘Night, Bender. Be good.

  ‘Night, Black.

  And then his little “online now” icon disappeared. I left the IM window open, rereading our conversation again to hold on to that comforting feeling just a little longer. And I found myself chuckling out loud a second time over his corny joke.

  “What’s that?”

  I spun around to find Cal standing behind the sofa, looking over my shoulder, squinting at the conversation on my laptop screen.

  I quickly flipped the top down.

  “Nothing.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like nothing. You chatting with someone?”

  “No!” Which in hindsight might have come out a decibel level or two higher than convincing.

  His other eyebrow lifted.

  “Someone special?” Cal teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s no one. Just a friend.”

  “Uh huh.” He sat down on the sofa beside me, giving me an expectant look. He clearly wasn’t going to let this one go.

  “He’s… a penpal.”

  “So, it is a man.”

  “Sorta.”

  “Sorta?”

  “No, he’s a screen. I mean, he’s not real. Well, I guess he’s real in that there is someone typing, but he could be anyone, you know? Some loser in his mother’s basement, some creep in prison, who knows?”

  “So, your penpal is a felon?”

  “No! Look, I don’t know who he is. He’s just… nice.”

  He tilted his head to the side, his expression softening, going serious. “You going to meet this nice guy?”

  I shook my head in the negative. “No, it’s not like that. Look, he’s just someone who… gets me. Not many people do, you know?”

  He leaned in. The scent of fresh soap still clung to him. “Maybe that’s what you’d like to think.”

  I pulled my eyebrows together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He smiled. “It means if you’d quit being such a hardass, you’d see there are lots of people who care about you. Who care about your well being.” He reached out a hand and gently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Who get you,” he said quietly.

  I swallowed. Hard. My body felt frozen, my skin tingling, blood rushing to my head as I tried to read the look in his dark eyes. It was soft. Almost tender, if I thought Mr. Tough Guy did tender. His face was inches from mine, so close I could feel his breath on my lips. My tongue darted out to lick them, and I followed his eyes to my mouth.

  Oh, God. He was going to kiss me.

  What’s worse—I really wanted him to.

  Maybe it was because I still had a warm fuzzy feeling running through me from talking to Black. Or maybe it was the emotional toll of the day. Or maybe it was just the fact that I hadn’t gotten it in long enough that I was beginning to forget what it was even all about.

  But I found my mouth drifting toward his.

  He leaned in a fraction closer, and his lips brushed over mine. I was surprised at how soft they were, that anything about him was this soft. They tasted like toothpaste, minty and clean. His goatee grazed against my cheek, sending shivers down my spine as I closed my eyes, drinking in the moment. I think I sighed into his mouth as his tongue touched my lips, gently parting them.

  “Hello? We’re back!”

  I jumped off the sofa like a Jack-in-the-box, immediately putting two feet of distance between Cal and I as the aunts bustled through the front door.

  “In here,” I said. I licked my lips, tasting Cal there, and felt my cheeks burn a bright candy-apple red.

  Aunt Sue and Aunt Millie bustled into the room, dropping an armload of items onto the coffee table: a bag of sandwiches, a two-liter bottle of Coke, and a purple Tupperware container with Hello Kitty painted on the side.

  “What’s this?” I asked, pulling back the lid on the container.

  “Hattie.”

  “Hattie? Hattie Carmichael!?” I took one giant step back from the Tupperware.

  Aunt Sue nodded. “We picked her up from the crematorium on the way home.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “And brought her home in Tupperware? Don’t they usually give you an urn for that?”

  “They wanted to charge us $200 for an urn,” Millie piped up. “Can you believe the nerve? I mean, we’re just going to spread her ashes tomorrow anyway. Who pays $200 for an urn they’re only gonna use for one day?”

  I was at a loss to answer that question.

  “So, Millie offered to go down the street to the dollar store and pick up a pretty ceramic jar or something,” Aunt Sue said.

  I looked down at the plastic container. “That’s not a ceramic jar.”

  Millie shrugged. “I think my eyesight might be slipping a little.”

  Understatement alert.

  But Aunt Sue waved her off. “No matter. This works. In fact, it’s better. Spill resistant lid.” She flipped the Tupperware upside down and shook it. “See?”

  I looked from one wrinkled face to the other. Then to Cal for help. He just grinned, holding up his hands in a surrender motion as if to say, “Hey, they’re your aunts.”

  “So, you are coming with us to spread the ashes tomorrow, right?” Aunt Sue asked.

  I nodded. “Right.” It was the least I could do. Especially considering Mrs. Carmichael was now residing in a leftovers receptacle.

  “Good. We’ll leave at eight. The gates open at nine.”

  “Gates?” I asked, grabbing onto the word. Suddenly I had a bad feeling about this.

  Aunt Sue blinked innocently at me. “Yes. They don’t open until nine in the fall.”

  “What doesn’t open until nine?’

  “Disneyland.”

  Mental forehead smack.

  “Disneyland? Wait - you’re spreading Mrs. Carmichael’s ashes at Disneyland?�


  The aunts nodded in unison.

  “It’s what Hattie wanted,” Aunt Sue spoke up. “She was the first Mickey Mouse, you know. Her fondest memories are of the Magic Kingdom.”

  “It is the happiest place on earth,” Millie added solemnly.

  I shook my head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not legal to spread human remains there.”

  “No one will ever notice,” Aunt Millie assured me.

  I had a hard time believing that.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.” I looked to Cal to back me up.

  Thankfully, he nodded in agreement this time. “She’s right. They have security cameras all over that place.”

  Aunt Millie waved me off. “No one’s going to bother a couple of old women.”

  “Dropping ashes from a Hello Kitty container?!”

  “Oh, we got that covered,” Aunt Sue assured me.

  I hated to even ask. “Covered?”

  She nodded. “We’re going to transfer her into one of those souvenir soda bottles as soon as we get in the park. No one will bother us carrying around a soda pop. Then we’ll just kinda tip the cup over a little and, voila, she’s in her favorite place.”

  I felt faint.

  “Where exactly are you going to do this?”

  “On It’s a Small World,” Aunt Sue replied. “Hattie loved that ride. Hattie was the first Mickey Mouse, you know.”

  Yes. I knew.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said for the third time in as many minutes.

  But I got two pairs of bony arms crossed over two pairs of saggy boobs and two matching glares. “This is what Hattie wanted,” Aunt Sue told me. “She was taken from this world too soon. The least we can do is honor her last wish. You’d honor my last wish, wouldn’t you?”

  I bit my lip. “Yes?” Only it came out more of a question.

  “Then it’s settled. We leave at eight.”

  I opened my mouth to protest… but realized it was futile. With or without me, these two were going to deposit Hattie Carmichael on It’s a Small World tomorrow. Unless I wanted to spend the afternoon bailing them out of jail, I’d better make sure they did it stealth-like.

 

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