“If you say so.”
He hugged me. “Oh, sweet, sweet, Ky. You have it pretty bad for him.”
Hell, yes, I did.
I stayed at their house with all the dogs that weekend and had a wonderful time. I pushed off dates with both Talen and Tucker, postponing them until the following week. I felt a bit stupid, still seeing them both, but they both seemed to like me and it was nice to get the attention. I longed for some clarity, and at the same time, I think I knew. I knew who I liked, but couldn’t bear the silences—couldn’t stand not hearing his voice or touching his face.
We hadn’t known each other very long, but he’d already left his mark on my heart. Spending time with either of the Ts just wasn’t what I wanted or needed. I had made up my mind I was going to buy the duplex with my two best friends and I would stop seeing the Ts. Until my work on the movie was over, though, cutting off my ties would not be a good idea.
I was enjoying my Sunday evening meal of home-cooked pasta and a glass of Tuscan red wine, catching up on TV shows I’d DVR’d, when my phone rang.
Isidoro. “You have company?”
“No,” I said, swallowing a piece of farfalle. “How are you?”
“I’m terrible, thanks to you. Why aren’t you here? Why do I hear voices?”
“It’s the TV.” Muting the damned thing, I cradled the phone closer to my ear, as if that would bring me nearer to him.
“Why did you stay away?” he asked.
“Because I miss you.”
A beat. “You miss me… So you stayed away?”
“Yes. I can’t explain it.”
He let out a sigh. “I can. I haven’t been so available. I had a rotten weekend last weekend and this one is worse. You should have been here.”
I liked how sad he sounded, but why hadn’t he made that clearer before? Why hadn’t he called to say he wanted me to come to Tijuana?
Not realizing I’d said the words aloud, I heard his rush of staccato Spanish. I understood enough of his language to know he was telling me he was an idiot. I agreed wholeheartedly. He also said he was sorry.
“Trying to protect you… Maybe I am staying away too much. I will do better. Will you come down next weekend?”
“Yes,” I said. “I will.”
We both sat with our thoughts for the moment. The idea of seeing him in five days tickled me. I couldn’t wait.
“What did you do this weekend?” he asked me. We had a lovely, gentle conversation and it helped. I knew he was missing me as much as he said he was. I could feel it. We hung up and I felt better than I had all weekend.
My phone rang again. Talen.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a couple of weeks now, but here goes. You know you need to lose a ton of weight, right? Unless you’re willing to go on a six-week fast and exercise boot camp, I don’t think things are going to work out between us.”
Of all the things he could have said to me, this was a shocker. I needed to lose a ton of weight? What the fuck? I sat, speechless.
“Then I guess, Talen, we’re just going to have to be friends. I like the way I am. I don’t need to lose weight, and I have no desire to fast or go to boot camp. I’m not a disobedient puppy or a runaway teenager. I work hard. I’m a good guy, I think. And I don’t like being told what I can and can’t eat. In fact, I find it extremely insulting and boorish.”
“Well! I sure had you figured wrong.” He hung up on me.
I laughed. One T down, another one to go.
* * * *
In the morning, I worried about how Sophia James would react to me. Since I was no longer hanging out with her brother, would she hate me, too?
I was nervous when I arrived on set a little after seven. Things seemed quiet, so I wandered over to my favorite place, the craft service department. These wonderful men and women provide food and drinks constantly on a shoot. Everything was served early to coincide with the unearthly start times and long days on the set. Breakfast at five a.m., lunch at eleven, and so on. The bigger the budget, the better the food. You knew you were on a cheesy shoot when all you could find were warm cans of soda and bags of chips.
The kindly people on this movie knew me well and one of the guys handed me a warm croissant and a cappuccino with cinnamon sprinkled on the foamy peaks. I was just about to take my first sip when I caught a glimpse of Sophia charging toward me. I almost screamed but she didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons, so I tried not to show how hard I was shaking.
She rushed up to me, tears in her eyes, and hugged me. I hung on to my coffee cup as strands of her hair fell into the foam.
“Ky! I’m so sorry. My brother fell off the wagon last night. He has a methadone addiction, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” Mr. Health Nut is a junkie?
“He called you, then me, and everyone we know, and said we were all fat. He even called the head of the TV network that ran his infomercial, and told him he needed liposuction and an emergency tummy tuck!”
I laughed, but she was aghast. I was ecstatic that she didn’t blame or hate me for not wanting to be with her brother. I could have kicked myself that I’d let it go on as long as I had, not that we’d done more than hug or kiss. I felt relieved, to say the least.
* * * *
At lunchtime, as I tucked into a chicken Caesar salad, thanks to my new best friends at craft service, my other T approached me.
“I knew I’d find you here.” He grinned, but seemed nervous.
“Everything okay?” I eyed the lavish bread pudding with Chantilly cream awaiting my urgent attention.
“I quit,” Tucker said.
Whoa. “You what? Are you okay? What happened?”
“You got me a job, that’s all. I’m going to Australia!”
So, he was also giving me the kiss-off, though for more honorable reasons than the health freak.
“One of your referrals came through and I got a job I still can’t believe is mine. I’m heading off in three days to work on a movie being shot on the Gold Coast.”
“Wow, that’s awesome.”
He nodded, picking up a discarded crouton from my salad and crunching into it. “The production manager for the movie arranged for me to get an emergency passport. I’ll be working for Maggie Condon and her husband, Mike Lucas.”
“That’s great,” I said, wondering if trading in an old drunk like Ron Random for a movie superstar couple and their seven adopted children was a step up or another catastrophe in the making. “How’d Ron take it?”
“Revoltingly. He screamed and yelled, and he was so rude. He called me an ingrate. I didn’t think people spoke like that anymore.” He leaned closer to me and whispered, “Half an hour later, he sent me off to the liquor store to buy his daily stash of rye whiskey, then asked me to put in a good word for him with Maggie Condon.”
I gaped at him. “You’re not, are you?”
“Hell, no. This is her first directing gig and I’m gonna be her assistant, and her husband’s. Mike’s starring in the movie.”
I grinned. “I think I’m jealous.”
He laughed. “I’m jealous of myself. I applied for a passport when I got the job with Ron and they told me it would take six weeks. Thanks to you, I’ll have it in a few days.” He shifted in his seat. “You have amazing contacts, and you’re a sweetheart. I’d like to stay in touch with you. I’ve been hired for six months, but can we email?”
“Sure we can.” I wished him well and hugged him goodbye.
His cell phone rang and his face lit up. “Maggie, hi! Yes, I’m excited to work with you, too.” He frowned. “Oh, you need hand cream? Why don’t you email a list and I’ll pick up everything you need and bring it with me.” He gave me a cheery wave and took off.
I was happy for him and had a feeling he was going to do well in this business. My cell phone rang. Catalina.
“Hey,” I said, taking her call as I stuck my spoon in the bread pudding. Still warm.
Mmm…
“Hey,” she responded. “Did you know that Tucker quit working with Ron Random?”
“I, er—”
“He’s left us in the lurch. I need an assistant for that old fart. Don’t suppose you want the job, do you?”
I almost choked on my pudding. Are you high? “No. I don’t.”
“Know anybody else who likes being abused and tortured?”
I busied myself with the Chantilly cream. Craft service needed to bottle the stuff, it was so good.
“I’ll give them double what we gave Tucker.”
I stopped eating. I knew a few people who’d sell body parts to work on a movie, even with a roué like Random. “I’ll get back to you. I’ll find somebody.”
“Thanks, doll.”
Of course, I found her somebody just a few minutes later. I was thrilled to discover my friend, Kate Hannon, was available. I adored Kate and wouldn’t have to keep an eye on her. She looked like a blonde angel, but was as tough as Teflon, having worked for some of the most difficult celebrities in the business. Ron Random preferred working with women, though he often made them cry. Ron would either send Kate to the nut house, or he’d ask her to marry him. I had an inkling it might be the latter.
Kate was grateful for the gig. Nothing fazed her when I confessed Ron Random’s bad habits. “Piece of cake,” she said. “And you’re talking to somebody who had to break that idiot British actor out of the clink in Mexico.”
“I know. That’s why I thought of you.”
She sighed. “My cat has cancer, so I need every cent I can get. My vet said it’s treatable, but I just signed up for a care plan he warned me would be financially life-altering, so your call comes at a welcome time.” She paused. Kate and I had been through a lot together.
“I’m so sorry about your boy.” I knew how much she loved Bing Clawsby.
“Let’s have dinner,” she said. “I’ll cook.”
It sounded great to me. I headed home at the end of the day, anticipating a bracing walk with the dogs, then dinner with Kate. I tried not to feel disappointed that I hadn’t heard from Isidoro, who was constantly on my mind.
I was a little surprised as I stopped for gas, to find Lisa Bird right next to me filling up her own tank. We exchanged greetings.
“You know, I owe you an apology,” she said, yelling to me across the gas pumps. “I was a little heavy-handed with you about your astrological chart. I actually had the wrong day and time. I was so embarrassed I didn’t know what to say.”
“That’s okay.” I removed the nozzle from my tank, hooked it up to the pump and walked over to her. “Your reading was off, too. You know…the guy whose name starts with a T and he’s a fire sign? Not happening.”
“That’s ridiculous. My readings are never wrong.”
I shrugged. “You were wrong this time. Have a nice evening.”
Back in my car, I pondered what Kate would make for dinner. I didn’t cook often, although I could whip up pretty tasty meals. I always ended up cooking way too much food and feeling guilty if I didn’t eat it all.
‘You need to lose a ton of weight.’ The thought burned in my brain. That rotten druggie!
I pulled up to the front of Santos and Angus’ house, wishing they were here. They were due back tomorrow night, and I missed them so much. Sighing, I got out of the car, my cell phone ringing. It was Kate.
“Sorry to do this, but Ron Random just called me and wants me to start right now. I need to cancel dinner. Is tomorrow okay?”
“Sure.” I could see all my tomorrows stretching into infinity.
“He wants me to pick up booze for him. According to you, he likes rye. Any particular brand?”
“Whatever’s cheap, but Tucker bought him his daily supply already.”
“I’m not going empty-handed,” she said. “He sounds so unpleasant.”
I cringed, thinking I’d have to keep an eye on her after all, but then she said, “I’m excited to wrestle with that old fool. I’ll have him crying like a nine-year-old girl before the end of the day.”
She ended our call and I believed her. I almost felt sorry for Ron Random…
Seconds later, I was surprised to see Santos and Angus pull up in their car. The dogs must have sensed their arrival because they were barking and acting crazy inside the house. The guys exited the vehicle looking dusty and dirty. They hugged me, but something was off. Way off.
“What’s going on?” I was worried now.
“We had to get out of town. Fast,” Angus said. Was he shaking?
“Inside,” Santos muttered.
I followed them. They petted the dogs, but clearly, something bad had happened.
“I need water,” Angus announced, traipsing into the kitchen.
“He’s okay,” Santos said, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water.
“Who’s okay?” I asked, but I knew. “What happened?”
“We had to smuggle him out of Mexico.”
My throat ran dry. “Where is he?”
“He’s at the hospital. The police in East LA are taking care of him.”
“Hospital?” My voice came out in a squeak.
“Just a precaution. We drove back with him in our trunk. He was beaten, but he was lucky. Many others died.”
My jaw went slack. “What the—”
“Are you really ready to see this?” Santos snapped open the bottle in his hand and took a long drink. He leaned against the kitchen countertop, a look of total terror on his face. “He was, how do you say it in English?”
He glanced at Angus and my whole body went rigid. “See what?”
Angus stared at the floor. Neither man said anything for a moment. A tear trickled down his cheek. Santos, who was usually all over Angus, did nothing.
“It was horrible.” Santos’ voice was a whisper.
“He was ambushed. He got made. They all did. Some of the men the cartel abducted were genuine farmers. Three were DEA agents. Isidoro is the only one to survive,” Angus said, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Ambushed! That’s the word.” Santos reached out finally and hugged Angus to him, kissing his grimy head. “Ky, I am going to show you the video. You can never tell anyone you’ve seen it.” Tears filled his eyes. “I cry for my country. I taste terror every day. I don’t think I can live there anymore.”
He released Angus, sniffed, and took his cell phone out of his back pocket. Santos bit his lip, the tears falling as he said, “You sure you want to see this? You can never un-see these images.”
I braced myself. “Show me. Please.”
Santos exhaled and swiped at his tears. He pressed a button on his cell phone and passed it to me. The video was clear, and truly, the most shocking thing I’d ever seen. I watched in horror as two vans, doors open, stood in what seemed like a parking lot. Dead bodies lay around them. I counted seventeen men in shabby clothing, lying face down, hands cuffed behind their backs. One man lay on his back, arms roped above his head. His face was bloody, his pants pulled down to his ankles as though to shame him.
Another man lay curled up on his side, his legs and arms broken and twisted. Yet another man must have been killed as he ran and had fallen on his knees, head on the ground. A very young-looking man lay on his front, his feet in socks. Somehow it made him seem even more vulnerable.
“What did these men do to get killed?” I asked, emotion choking me.
“The cartel does this often to warn new recruits not to steal from them or go to the police. This was a clean operation, Isidoro says. He told us the cartel got nervous and tortured these poor men trying to get confessions about who the alleged moles were, but nobody knew who the secret agents were. The two DEA agents who died never confessed. They protected Isidoro. As you can imagine, he is devastated,” Santos said.
As the video kept playing, one armed man put a gun to a prone man’s head and pulled the trigger. I gasped. Two armed men came from nowhere, leading a handcuffed Isidoro to the grisly scen
e. Blood poured from his head and he limped. I wanted to hurl myself in front of him and protect him. He was too far away for me to see the expression on his face as he approached the mound of bodies.
Gunfire suddenly rang out and Isidoro dropped to the ground. He escaped his captors and threw himself under the van. One of the men pointed his weapon at the van, but somebody yelled at him. I didn’t understand the words. More shouting ensued then a car horn honked. The gunmen fled, jumping into the second van. Tires screeched and they took off as sirens blared in the distance.
The video went black.
Chapter Seven
I fell silent for a moment. “You shot this?” I asked Santos.
“Si.” His dark eyes still registered shock.
““How did you know Isidoro was in trouble?” I wanted to view the footage again, but wasn’t sure I could handle seeing the decimated bodies a second time. “What were you doing there? You could have been killed!”
Santos nodded. “Isidoro texted me. We’ve had an understanding for months now. We have a GPS on his phone. He texted ‘Ayuda’, help in Spanish. It was around one o’clock in the afternoon and I checked the GPS. Angus and I went to get him. Before you ask, he couldn’t call the police. Some of those border cops are known to be crooked, and as far as his work with DEA goes, he couldn’t break cover.
“We hid behind two trees. When somebody started shooting, we ran to the car. There was so much going on, but Isidoro rolled out from under the truck and eventually came to us. That’s when we rescued him and got him out of there. We knew he wasn’t safe anyplace we took him so we left town. The only reason border patrol didn’t check our trunk was because the guards recognized me. I gave them autographs.” He shook his head. “I have never been so scared in my whole life. I don’t know if I can even go back to my home and get my things.”
His hands shook as he spoke and my heart swelled with admiration for his bravery and the love he had for the people in his life.
I reached out and squeezed his trembling fingers. “This goes on all the time in your country, doesn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
About You Page 9