“I know, but I want to reach him through his fiancée.”
I tell him what I know, which is almost nothing, and Theo says he’ll do his best.
It only takes ten minutes for him to call back.
“Got it.”
“No way.”
“Yep. Allie Winters is a freelance writer who met Manning when she was assigned to do a piece on him for the LA Times Magazine.”
“Okay, but her phone number?”
“I tried everything and couldn’t find a phone number. I’m guessing she’s locked that down now that she’s with someone so high profile.”
My heart sinks. Why is everything so fucking difficult all of a sudden?
“But I found an email address, posted in her forum profile on an old website for music writers. The site has been dead for years, but all its pages are still there, gathering dust.”
“Email? That’s it?”
I hear Theo sigh. “That’s all I could find. I have no idea if it’s still a valid address. I’ll text it to you. Give it a try, just in case.”
I agree and thank him. Seconds after I hang up, I receive the text and open my email app.
Now what do I say?
I give the email a subject line of “Urgent! About Link Ramirez. Please read.” That should do. For the body of the message, I keep it short.
Sorry to bother you, Allie, but this truly is urgent. My name is Raven Maddox and Link and I have been dating, sort of. He’s disappeared and I desperately need to talk to him. Please call me or do whatever it takes to convince him to contact me. Thanks, and again I’m sorry to impose like this.
That’s about the best I can come up with. I add my phone number at the bottom, then cross my fingers and hit send. Task completed, I wait to hear back from Theo again with an actual phone number.
My stomach is in knots as I sit on my balcony to take in a little fresh air. I’m lost in a cloud of pessimistic thoughts when I realize my phone is ringing in the living room. I dash inside and grab it, not recognizing the number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Raven. This is Drake Manning.”
I know immediately it’s actually him. His voice is distinctive and there’s no reason anyone would think to prank me that way at this precise moment. I’m suddenly nervous as hell.
“Are you the tattoo chick?”
“Yes.”
“I figured you were. Can you come by my house so we can talk?”
My already iffy stomach does a somersault. Drake Manning—the Drake Manning—just invited me over.
“Oh God, thank you. Of course I can come. When?”
“Allie and I have something coming up around three. Maybe later this evening?”
It’s a few minutes before one o’clock. “Are you busy now? It’s really important and won’t take long.”
I hear his muffled voice and I assume he’s checking with Allie.
“Sure, if you hurry. We’ll only have a few minutes.”
He gives me the address and I tell him I’ll be right there.
Of course, I have to take a shower and put on makeup first. I need to be presentable when I meet them or they’ll think I’m crazy, or a stalker. Or both. I get ready in the shortest time possible, then rush out.
I find the address, scared half to death. I feel a little better when the black man in the gate house smiles widely at me and the gate swings open. He must have been told someone was on her way. I pull into the drive, my breath hitching in my throat. I’ve never seen a house this huge in person. It’s quite literally breathtaking. I park in the semi-circle near the front door and nervously step out of the car.
“So you’re the one who’s causing all the trouble.”
My head swivels as I recognize the voice. Walking toward me is Manning himself, his million-dollar smile oozing charisma. He looks like he’s never missed a day of working out. Then again, that’s why they call him “The Body.” I have to say, it’s a well-deserved nickname. But what’s with that accusation?
“No, I’m… I’m really—”
“Ignore him.” I see a woman behind him and assume it to be Allie. “He thinks he’s funny and nobody has the balls to tell him otherwise.”
Drake gives her a smirk. “I won a People’s Choice Award for a comedy role.”
We meet halfway and shake hands cordially. I just shook hands with Drake Manning. It’s exciting, but not enough to make my problems disappear.
“Come on in and we’ll talk by the pool,” Allie says. Since I hadn’t thought to Google her, I had no idea what to expect. I’m surprised that Allie isn’t some lingerie-model type. She’s lovely, but—dare I say—normal. A little curvy in her yoga pants and sweatshirt. She smiles at me and I like her instantly.
We step into the amazing house and Allie goes one direction while Drake leads me to the massive back yard. The patio is the size of a basketball court, and across the gigantic pool is a guest house that I could live comfortably in. Huge palm trees surround the pool area, their fronds swaying in the warm June breeze. I feel like I’m at a tropical resort.
We sit at a table under a big umbrella.
“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” I say, looking at two caterers hovering over a nearby table that’s set up with covered bowls, glasses, and silverware. There’s a tray of huge raw steaks, covered in plastic wrap, and others with vegetables on skewers. Next to the table is a row of ice chests.
“Not at all,” Drake says. “We’re having a little barbecue later. Marcus Jennings of the Lakers is a buddy of ours, and some friends are getting together to celebrate the championship season.”
That’s right. The Lakers pulled off a seemingly impossible come-from-behind win in game seven of their series against Cleveland. That’s all people have been talking about lately.
“I won’t take too much of your time,” I assure him.
Allie walks up with three glasses of iced tea and takes a seat.
“It’s so lovely to meet you, Raven,” she says. “We saw you on Channel 4 just after the Oscars.”
I smile, still intimidated. “I never imagined I’d be sitting poolside with you two.”
Meanwhile Drake is looking at me appraisingly.
“So, you’re Link’s new girl.”
Allie playfully swats him on the forearm, but that doesn’t silence him.
“Hey, he practically spelled it out for me a few months ago. Since he’s Link, though, he wouldn’t actually admit to anything, but I could hear it in his voice when he talked about you. Anyway, Allie and I were glad you reached out to us. We’re both kind of worried about how the big guy has been moping around lately.”
Allie says, “We haven’t seen him in weeks, and that’s not normal.”
“He barely talks when I call him,” Drake says. “Not that he’s particularly verbose to begin with, but he always says he’s in the middle of something or about to leave and can’t talk.”
Dammit, I already feel the tears, or at least that sensation in my upper chest that says they’re imminent. I take a sip of tea.
Allie says, “An hour before I got your email, Drake got a text from Link, saying that he couldn’t make it to the barbecue today.”
“That’s when I knew this was serious,” Drake says. “Link wouldn’t normally miss something like this.”
I’m beginning to feel like we’re having an intervention for Link, and it makes me uncomfortable. Plus, I can’t stop marveling that I’m sitting across the table from the world’s biggest movie star.
“I suppose I’m the problem,” I say, fighting back the tears. “One minute, he and I are getting along so well, then the next, he just disappears.”
I can feel the liquid pooling in my eyes. I tell myself if I don’t blink, it’ll stay there and they won’t notice.
Allie’s hand reaches for mine, squeezing it gently.
“Hey, take it slow. We’ll see what we can do to help. We just want to see Link happy.”
I remember the look
on Link’s face in my bed, when I was on top of him. He looked happy then. And right after I came really hard, we were lying, facing each other as my body continued to quiver and tingle. Link had such a look of serenity in his eyes. I recall thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would stick this time, that we could both give in to this unseen force and see what happens. Those were the very last minutes I saw him. I drifted off to sleep, then awoke to find him gone, possibly forever.
“We haven’t spoken in three weeks, since he said he needed time to think. He’s not returning my calls and I really have to talk to him.”
As soon as I finish my sentence, the tears claim victory. A single drop rolls down one cheek, and when I feel another on the opposite side, I give up.
Down they come, and I quickly bury my face in my hands.
Allie comes over and puts a comforting arm around me. “Sweetie, don’t cry. We’ll figure thi—”
She’s cut off by Drake’s phone dinging loudly. He glances at it.
“Shit. Cecil says Mason and Claire just pulled up.”
“They’re early,” Allie says.
Drake stands, and I wipe away my tears and stand as well.
“I should go,” I say. “This was a bad idea. I’m sorry, I had no right to involve you in my personal business.”
“Don’t be silly, this is also important to us,” Drake says.
“You should stay,” Allie insists.
She looks at Drake, who shrugs. “Sure, there’s plenty of food. I’m sure Mason and Marcus will want to meet you.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can, it’ll be fun,” Allie says. “Take your mind off things for a while. You might pick up some new clients.”
“But I’m not dressed for a party.” Now I’m just looking for any excuse to get out of this without seeming rude.
“It’s casual, you’re fine,” Allie assures me. She’s not dressed up at all, in fact.
“Look at me,” Drake says, spreading his arms. Yeah, look at you. You’d look good in anything. He gives me that famous smile, then walks quickly into the house.
“We insist, Raven,” Allie says. “Once this winds down in a few hours, we can all put our heads together and figure out what to do.”
What can I say? I don’t want to seem like ungrateful after they agreed to see me on such short notice.
“All right, if you’re sure.”
“We’re sure,” Allie says. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be back in a minute.”
She rushes off and I’m alone on their patio. What the hell am I doing, agreeing to stay at a party at Drake Manning’s house? I won’t know anybody, and I’m still mentally and emotionally unstable. Not to mention physically. I’m a fucking wreck, but at least I took the time to make myself presentable.
“So, you’re the one!”
I turn in the direction of the strange voice and see a man who could pass for a male model walking out of the house. He’s devastatingly handsome as he grins at me, obviously in a good mood. I know Mason is one of the Hollywood Bad Boys, and it’s not hard to figure out that he and Drake have been talking about this woman who’s causing all the turbulence in Link’s already-tortured psyche.
I smile wanly and lift my hand. “That’s me, the troublemaker.” Immediately behind him is a blonde with a flawless body.
Mason introduces himself and when he steps aside for Claire, I’m looking at the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life. Fuck me, I’d be thrilled to look half this good. She smiles as we shake hands, and I’m absolutely certain that these two are going to have perfect babies someday.
Allie returns, and of course she’s changed clothes. Both she and Claire are indeed dressed casually, though it’s a dressier version of casual than I’m used to. Still, I at least I’m dressed well enough not to stick out like a sore thumb.
Any heavy talk about me and Link is tabled for the time being, and I’m guessing Mason has been told not to bring it up because I’m feeling fragile.
Drake walks up with two beers, thrusting one bottle in my direction.
“No thanks,” I say, shuddering slightly.
“Trust me, you’re going to want a layer of insulation between you and some of these Hollywood types.”
“I’ve had a rough weekend already,” I say. “No need to make it worse.”
He shakes his head. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”
Drake starts to walk away, but turns back after a single step.
“One quick question for you, Raven: On a scale of one to ten, where would you say your feelings for my buddy Link are?”
I look up at the face I’ve seen hundreds, or maybe thousands, of times before.
“Twenty,” I reply. “Although sometimes he does his damndest to make it just a six or a seven.”
Drake smiles and nods knowingly. “That’s our Link,” he says. Then he surprises me by putting an arm around me and kissing me on the top of my forehead.
“Sure you don’t want a beer?” he asks as he starts to leave.
“I’m good, Drake.”
He shrugs and wanders off among his guests.
Other guests soon arrive and I see lots of familiar faces, some more recognizable than others. There are maybe fifty or sixty people. Several famous actors and actresses are here, and a few big guys I assume to be athletes. One extremely tall, athletically built woman has to be a basketball player.
Some of the women are gorgeous, although none as jaw-dropping as Claire. She spends some time talking to me and is very charming. She’s not as warm as Allie, but for someone with her looks, I’m surprised by her gesture. Largely because of her and Allie, I don’t feel as horribly out of place as I thought I might.
As I look over the dishes on the table, struggling to find anything that looks appetizing enough, I feel a tap on the shoulder. I look up into the face of Logan Kenner, the famous actor whose daughter Link rescued.
“Aren’t you the tattoo woman?” he asks with a smile. Damn, all of these movie stars have those perfect-teethed smiles.
“What gave it away?” I ask, looking at my colorful arms and shoulders. My little silk tank top isn’t hiding anything. I’ve already surveyed the guests and found that while I’m not the only tattooed person here, I’m by far the most tattooed one.
“I heard about your offer to Lincoln Ramirez,” Kenner says. “My daughter Haley showed me the YouTube video of your news interview. That was very generous of you.”
I want to ask him if the girl has recovered from her ordeal, but I’m too intimidated.
“Did he ever contact you to take you up on it?” Kenner asks.
Sure, by all means let’s talk about the one thing I’m trying not to think about at the moment.
“He did. He’s already gotten his first free tattoo. Hopefully there will be more.”
Kenner nods. “Well, when you see him again, please tell him I said I’m absolutely serious about him coming over to have dinner with my family. He’s a hard man to get in touch with.”
Don’t I know it.
A loud, deep voice suddenly yells, “Who are the champs?”
I turn to see an absurdly tall, handsome black man in the doorway, his arms raised in self-celebration. After seeing his face all over town for the last couple of months, it would be impossible not to recognize Marcus Jennings. The noise level around me rises instantly as he steps onto the patio. A few seconds later, I notice a woman with a young boy, and I remember Link telling me Marcus was in a relationship with a single mother. Good for him. I love to see a man step up, and there’s nothing more admirable than taking on the responsibility of helping raise someone else’s kid.
Allie introduces me to Rashida and Jayden, and again I’m a bit surprised by the warm welcome. Rashida’s friendly and funny, and Jayden is a talkative little guy. I spend a good ten minutes answering his questions about my tattoos, only to watch him turn to Rashida and ask if he can get a tattoo for his birthday.
&n
bsp; Eventually I’m introduced to Marcus, who points a thin finger down at me, looks at Drake, and says, “This the one?”
Seriously, all of them know me as the troublemaker? I’m laughing with them now, at least outwardly. On the inside I can’t help but think how much fun all of this would be if I were actually in a relationship with Link.
It begins as a simple innocuous thought, but over the next few minutes it begins to build until it consumes me. I feel like an impostor, as if I were an actor playing the part of Link’s girlfriend, while Link himself is on hiatus.
Allie wanders back over. Maybe she sees the look on my face and is concerned, or maybe she’s just being a good hostess.
“Holding up okay, Raven? Having a little fun, at least?”
I smile as best I can. “I’m all right. Thanks again for inviting me to stick around. I’ve met some very interesting people.”
“Did you meet all the other Hollywood Bad Boys yet?” Before I can answer, she asks, “Link did tell you about their silly little club, didn’t he?”
I laugh and nod.
“Boys,” she says, shaking her head. “I find it amusing that grown men put so much value on how many women they can convince to have sex with them. And rich, famous guys like Drake and Marcus? They could have a different girl every night if they wanted. Women are throwing themselves at them, and these guys still act like it’s an accomplishment of some kind. Thank God the good ones grow out of it and get their priorities straight eventually.”
She’s spot-on. “The problem with men,” I say, “is that they think they have to constantly prove they’re men. Instead of just being men.”
“So true. Can I get you a beer? Margarita?”
I hold my glass of sparkling water up. “I’m being a wimp today.”
“Probably for the better.” She points at the pool house and says, “The first time I met Marcus, Link and Mason, I was drunk and took a dare from Drake. Went into the pool house and stripped naked, then walked out wearing only a blindfold. I had no idea that the other three so-called bad boys had shown up and were sitting there gawking at me. I was mortified.”
“Oh my god, what did you do?”
“I ran back in and got dressed. But I earned their respect by staying around and getting in the Jacuzzi with everyone. In a bathing suit, of course.”
Hollywood Bad Boys Club, Book 4: Link Page 18