Gustavo, better known to his millions of fans as Gus the Gossip, is one of the leading entertainment journalists in the nation. He’s served as President of the Silver Sphere Organization for over a decade. In that time, he’s transformed the annual Silver Sphere Awards from a small online superlative post to a can’t-miss television spectacular that’s one of the most respected awards shows in the US and the biggest party of the Awards Season!
It made no mention of his possible penchant for blackmail. Shocker.
I went to his website to check out a few interviews featuring Gus and his increasingly A-list interview subjects driving around in his bright yellow classic Airstream, waxing poetic while also dealing with LA traffic and waving at fans who recognized the trailer. The interviews were streamed live and looked like low-budget affairs but I knew better. There were probably several crew members hiding in the back.
I was watching a replay of Gus’s interview with A-lister Luke Cruz when Emme called.
“Come over,” she said. “Now.”
Twenty-One
Gus was broke.
Well, not broke broke. He wasn’t going to be panhandling in Santa Monica anytime soon but he lived paycheck to paycheck like the rest of us. Emme showed me his financials. He had a mortgage, less than $2,000 in savings, and was apparently paying way too much for that Airstream he adored. Nothing about any of it screamed “I have a burgeoning blackmail empire.”
“I don’t get it.” I peered over Emme’s shoulder at her monitor. “Is he hiding money in offshore accounts like some mob boss in a John Grisham novel?”
“IDK and won’t know either. Even I don’t have the skills to find that stuff.”
“Maybe it’s going out as fast as it’s going in.” I turned to Sienna, who had just hung up the phone. She was sitting on Emme’s couch, still working her contacts. “You hear anything about a drug addiction, gambling, something?”
“Nope.” She got up. “Nothing about him blackmailing anyone either. I’ll see you at home later.”
She took off like she’d spotted Joseline surrounded by a bunch of paparazzi and wanted to get in the background of the pics. Weird but I didn’t give it much thought. I was too concerned about Gus. If he blackmailed people, he was doing a really good job of covering his tracks. I needed to speak with Mack Christie again. I texted the number he’d given me.
Have a follow-up question. Can chat in person if you want. Just no creepy warehouses.
I spent the rest of the evening waiting for a response that never came. I didn’t worry too much. Mack was a busy guy who was hosting the Silver Sphere Awards in a few days. He’d promised to get me the receipts and information I needed. He would. Then we could figure out the next steps to prove Gus was Geppetto.
Omari had a late call so I spent the night at home. I needed to drop my car off at the mechanic and yell at him for not fixing it, anyway. I woke up to Sienna standing over me like a horror movie villain. Of course, Jason and Mike Myers never brought their victims breakfast in bed. Sienna carried a tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, and the food de resistance—sweet potato pie French toast. She watched me tear into her breakfast.
It was only after I finished that I realized something had to be up. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She’d run out of Emme’s apartment the day before and now she was cooking my favorite foods.
Sienna feigned an innocent look.
“Nice try,” I said. “You want me to be in a good mood. Why?”
“Maybe I know how hard you’ve been working on the case.”
“Cases don’t demand sweet potato pie French toast.”
She avoided my gaze and grabbed my cell, which made me more nervous. After a minute, she handed it to me. I gave her a look, then gently took it from her hand.
The headline on Gus’s site was in all caps. WORLDWIDE EXCLUSIVE: THE LATEST ON TOMARI! ARE THEY DONE? READ ON TO FIND OUT.
It was mostly a rehash of the same inaccurate info about their relationship. Gus had saved the new “worldwide exclusive” details for the end. A rep for Grant issued a statement saying that Grant and Abrams have known each other for a long time and are “just friends.”
I dropped the phone on my bed. “How. Dare. She.”
Sienna grabbed my hand. “It could be worse.”
I ignored her. Instead opting to call Omari. I chose FaceTime even though I hadn’t yet put on a stitch of makeup. A clear sign of how upset I was. He answered on the second ring, smiling as he did so.
“Nina issued the statement.” I didn’t mention she’d issued it to my current number one suspect. I could only deal with one crisis at a time, and personal life was it.
“I saw. Glad we were able to take care of it.”
If his smile got any wider, I’d be able to tell if he had tonsillitis.
“She said you and Toni were just friends,” I said.
“Because we are just friends.”
“No, you’re friends. You aren’t ‘just friends.’”
He looked confused. “There’s a difference?”
I exchanged a look with Sienna. “Of course there is. When someone says they’re ‘just friends’ it’s Hollywood for ‘we’re boning every chance we get.’ And last time I checked, you and Toni were doing nothing of the sort. Right?”
“Right,” he said. Then, “You do remember this was your idea.”
“I do.”
“But now you’re mad that she did what you wanted her to do?” It was clear he thought I was off my rocker.
And much like a rocker, I was moving but not getting anywhere. Just going back and forth. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but trust me on this. Nina made things worse.”
“Right.” That word again.
I gave up. So much for me being ready for Nina’s next move. “We’ll talk later.”
When I ended the call, Sienna spoke. “We’ll fix this. Don’t worry.”
She gave me a quick hug and left me with just my phone. Blurg. I forced myself to reason. This wasn’t a matter of life or death, especially when I was dealing with actual life and death regarding Lyla.
I checked my cell notifications. Still nothing from Mack. Not a text. Not a voicemail. Not even a missed call. I began getting worried. It was the part of dating I always hated. Waiting, hoping, wondering if he was going to contact you and when. It wasn’t much easier in a professional capacity. Taking a cue from that dating experience, I upped my game by actually calling him.
No answer. I left a message. Then I did something else I always did in the chess game known as dating in the twenty-first century—phoned a friend to overanalyze the situation.
Unfortunately, that friend was Aubrey.
“Hey,” I said, then jumped into my excuse for contacting him. I couldn’t very well admit I called to whine. “Just checking to see if you’re all set for your PI license exam tomorrow.”
“Well, Ms. Anderson, I—”
“Can I just tell you how rude Mack Christie is? I’ve been blowing his phone up, texting him nonstop. No response. Not even a ’K or an emoji. Why give out your number and tell me to contact you anytime if you aren’t going to respond?”
“He could have simply not found the time to call you back.” Aubrey was clearly not as good at this as Sienna, though he was on par with Emme. “Or he could be avoiding you because of something you may have done to annoy him.”
“First, I’m not annoying.” I waited for Aubrey to agree. When he didn’t, I kept talking. “Second, I’ve done what I said I was going to do. I played my part. He needs to do the same. Not be—” My phone buzzed. I pulled it away from my ear to check it and did an immediate 180. “Oh, it’s Mack. He says he’s been busy, but he hasn’t forgotten. Cool! Hold on a sec.”
I texted him back with a “When?” and then added a smiley face. Because though I’d sent him four texts, made three calls, and
left one voicemail, now that he’d written back, I didn’t want him to think I was pushy or anything. Just like dating. To his credit, he did respond. “He’s working on it,” I told Aubrey. “Promises to check in tomorrow. You think we should still pursue other avenues just in case?”
I’d heard that all the time on The First 48. Glad I finally got a chance to use it.
“I do, Ms. Anderson. For Mr. Ortiz to be a viable suspect, we need to look at motive, means, and opportunity. You have a motive for Mr. Ortiz, but can you definitively prove he knew that Ms. Davis was this Anani Miss? Furthermore, how can we connect him to the hitman Mr. Reid?”
Both good questions, ones I didn’t have answers for. “I’ll see if I can prove Gus knew about Lyla. You wanna take the Junior connection? I’m sure his grandma loves you.”
“I will head to her neighborhood and see if she recognizes Mr. Ortiz’s photo.”
After we hung up, I pulled up the Anani Miss email account and did a quick search for Gus’s name. A good number of emails came up, but no threats from Gus. For kicks, I ran a search for Lyla’s name, too. Nothing there either.
My best bet was probably to talk to Gus himself. I just needed to figure out a way to do it without going in guns blazing screaming bloody murderer. During my limited PI experience, I’d quickly learned most people don’t respond well to that. At all. I needed a more undercover approach. I’d already googled Gus, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to do it again.
When I clicked on his site, the Tomari article was still front and center. I quickly scrolled to one of his interviews. It reminded me how I’d blown off Gus’s interview request.
Maybe it was time to remedy that. Gus wanted something from me and I wanted something from him. I fired off an email to his official SSO addy saying that I had time to speak with him. Could he squeeze me in later today or even tomorrow morning?
The response wasn’t immediate and it wasn’t from Gus. Kitt called early afternoon when I was camped out at the mechanic waiting for my car. I didn’t recognize the number, so of course I didn’t pick up. Luckily, she did when I called back from home. I managed to multitask while wrapping Emme’s birthday gift.
“Hey Day! Saw your email. Things are a bit hectic with the awards in a few days but Gus really wants to interview you as soon as possible.”
“I could stop by this afternoon.”
“We were thinking Thursday. That work?”
Not at all. “Sure thing.”
I wasn’t trying to wait two days but it looked like I had no choice. Of course, if I couldn’t talk to Gus, I could always settle for the next best thing. I’d spoken with my former manager’s assistant more than I spoke with him. Assistants always know just as much as their bosses, if not more. Maybe I could get Kitt to provide some insight into Gus’s finances or at least his relationship with Lyla and the Christies.
“You free for lunch tomorrow, Kitt?”
“Yes! I love to eat.”
A girl after my own heart. “Me too! Let’s get together.”
“I know the perfect place.”
Emme’s birthday party was the next day. I didn’t hear from Mack like he’d promised, which led to round two of Operation: Blow Up His Phone. I was tempted to set up shop with the paparazzi and the stalkers in the bushes outside his house. It was probably like a summer BBQ out there all day and night.
Instead, I called Z. Don’t know what surprised me more—that I remembered his number or that the thing went straight to voicemail. He didn’t even have an automated message. I dialed. It beeped. I was not ready. At all.
“Hey. This is Dayna. Anderson. We met the other day. When you just showed up at my car. Still kind of creeped out by that, by the way. We went to the Fashion District. Well, not together. I was in a Lyft. Guy named Jamal. Really cute kids. You don’t know that because you didn’t see his pics. Trust me, they were adorable. Anyway, I’m trying to reach Mack. Figured you could help me. Okay. Bye.”
I went into the living room to see if Sienna was ready for Emme’s birthday party. It was at Vitality, which may have sounded like a Hollywood hotspot that made you stand in line for forty minutes even though there were only two people inside and then charged you $15 for a mixed drink to boot.
But Vitality wasn’t a club at all. It was the hottest life simulation game going. It was my first online birthday party. Coincidentally, it was also the first birthday party I’d ever attended in sweatpants and no bra. I could definitely get used to that. The shindig started at 7 p.m., but Emme informed me we needed to sign on early to create our avatars. At precisely 6:45, Sienna and I sat next to each other on our bright red couch and put on the headsets Emme let us borrow.
Not to go all SAT prep, but headsets to Emme were shoes to Sienna—an utter weakness. Emme had over twenty pairs and chose which ones to use based on the day’s agenda. Apparently, one worked best for gaming. Another for video chatting. And a completely different one for online karaoke. Who knew?
Once I’d adjusted my headset for maximum comfort, it was time to choose my avatar. It started off simple enough. It asked me my gender. I nailed the answer. Things got more complicated from there. There were fifteen options each for face, ear, and eye shapes, not to mention an entire color hex chart to choose your precise skin tone. I learned something new—I’m #af7041. Though I’m not psychic, I sensed I’d never need to use that information again in life.
I stumbled when it came time to pick my lips. The makers of Vitality clearly didn’t know many people of color—or with lip injections. The mouth options were all so thin they were practically transparent. They didn’t do much better when it came to noses. All looked like what you might see at a plastic surgeon’s office, not like what I saw in the mirror. I chose the biggest size for both and hoped Emme could recognize me.
Having had a nose job, Sienna didn’t have half as hard a time as I did choosing her likeness. She was already there when I “arrived” at the “bar” for Emme’s twenty-fifth bday extravaganza. The place was packed. If I had half the social life in real life that Emme did online, I’d be exhausted. No wonder she sat in a chair all day. Besides Sienna and Emme, there was no one I recognized.
A DJ blasted music. Sienna danced atop a table while the other avatars watched in complete lust. Her avatar was gorgeous—just like in real life. I beelined to the coat rack. Vitality let you choose your clothes and I’d made up for what I could no longer afford in real life, opting to arrive in an expensive red wool jacket. Virtual reality was the only place in Cali cold enough to wear it.
As I waited in line for coat check someone came up next to me. He had white skin crowded with features that looked cobbled together by Dr. Frankenstein. It didn’t help he had a black crew cut. His outfit barely matched. He didn’t have a coat, but that didn’t stop him from getting all in my personal space. Or should I say “avatar space.” I ignored him, mainly because I couldn’t figure out how to enable the chat function to politely ask him to back the heck up.
I grabbed a drink. A drink that was most definitely real. Sienna and I had stopped by the liquor store. Wasn’t like I was driving or anything.
Virtual Day checked her jacket and made herself comfy on a wall. I surveyed the surroundings. As is my custom whenever I enter a new place, I searched for the bathroom. Then I realized I wouldn’t need it. Score.
My mind kept wandering back to Lyla. Gus was still our most viable suspect but it wasn’t looking good. So far, my only way to connect him to Anani and the blackmail was Mack. I’d set up my interview, but I doubted Gus would confess to murder on his own web show. No one is that desperate for ratings.
I hoped I could get him to admit he knew that Lyla and Anani were the same person but I wasn’t holding my breath on that one. Not with my current track record. I much preferred concrete proof. There had to be a way to connect Gus with Anani. Unfortunately, Lyla had gone above and beyond to
protect her identity with separate phones and restricted social media. The only thing that could possibly connect to Lyla was the Anani website. Had Gus found her through that? I knew from registering ASAP Investigations that you had to list a site owner for the domain. I was tempted to check when Frankenstein appeared next to me again.
He leaned casually against the wall, again way too close for even virtual comfort. What was up with this guy? I waited for him to say something. Didn’t happen. Maybe he was like me and couldn’t figure out how to chat. I didn’t stick around to find out. I needed to talk to the birthday girl. I patiently joined the crowd around her, hoping I would figure out how to type before I got to the front.
I’d just realized the game had emojis when Frankenstein came up behind me. Again. I decided to play nice. I hit the smile emoji. Like clockwork, Virtual Day smiled at him.
A conversation popped above his head, followed by three dots. Being a texting aficionado, I knew exactly what to expect. He was forming a thought. There was a sound too similar to passing gas for my liking. Vitality really needed to work on that.
Come here often? popped up above his head.
I noticed Sienna across the way, her chat bubble overflowing with words. No fair. “How do I chat?” I asked out loud.
“Right click on your head and it’ll pop up,” Sienna said.
“I think this guy’s hitting on me.”
“Yes. He’s kinda cute too.”
“He’s an avatar.”
“Not all of us can be picky because we have boyfriends, Day.”
On screen, he must have taken my silence for playing hard to get. You are by far the prettiest Avatar I’ve seen.
Thank God I didn’t see a rolling-your-eyes emoji. I right clicked and selected chat. Thank you but I have a boyfriend.
His response was instantaneous. You’re not just friends?
Twenty-Two
Hollywood Ending Page 20