by Dylan Allen
“Yes.” She raises a scandalized eyebrow. “Word is, the bullet was meant for Hayes Rivers. The official story was that it was a disgruntled former employee looking for revenge. It could be, right? I mean it’s Texas, they love guns, right?” Her wide eyed stare is expectant, so I nod.
“But, what if it’s more than some whacko who got fired? His aunt made a full recovery but instead of scurrying back to the safety of her Tuscan villa, where not even the police have guns, she’s still in Houston.”
“And?” I ask impatiently. I’ve got so many ideas for the part of the series I’d be producing called “Bad at Love” looking at cold cases where crimes of passion had been suspected.
This story sounds a little Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous to me. I know that right now, beggars can’t be choosers but I’m confused by the assignment.
“Jules, this sounds intriguing, but it also sounds like gossip. I want to investigate things that matter. I’m not a gossip columnist. We’re not a gossip magazine. We report on real people and when they go missing it rips a hole in the lives of the people left behind.”
She purses her lips in disappointment.
“They are one of the most powerful and influential families in America. Their influence is vast and people care about them. We need viewers, or we can’t sell advertising. And if we can’t sell advertising, none of us will have a job. So I’m sending you after a story that to you feels fluffy but is exactly what our viewership wants. You know how much interest there is in this family.”
“Yes, and between E! Television and People Magazine, they get all the information they need.”
She leans back in her chair and raises a haughty eyebrow at me.
“Please don’t do me the insult of thinking that I would be suggesting we report this like it’s salacious gossip. I’ve got another interesting tidbit from my source, and that’s what I’m sending you to Houston for. According to a credible source, there was a DNA test ordered for Hayes Rivers last fall.”
I gawk at her. You don’t have to live in Houston to have heard of the return of The Rivers King, as they call Hayes Rivers, from Italy. It was big news everywhere. They are one of the last remaining true family dynasties in the United States. And the fact that they all look like movie stars, only makes them the subject of intense interest.
There were dozens of interest pieces detailing his background, really casting this aura of mystery onto his return. We ran a documentary that to date has one of the highest number of views of anything we’ve done.
“And if Hayes Rivers is not the heir, then who is? That’s going to be one of the most talked about missing person’s story of the year if we can get it. These are the kind of dramas that get made into movies. Your familiarity with the neighborhood and the city make you the perfect person to lift the veil.”
Excitement wells in my gut. This is my chance. I’ve fucked up everything else, but if I can get my career right, maybe I can start to get back on my feet. “Yes. I agree. I can do that.”
“Of course, you can. You’re pretty, you’re curious—almost too curious for your own good—and you’re hungry, but not in a ‘I’ll do anything to win kind of way,’ like Slugman is. I look at you and I see myself. You’re what? Twenty-nine?”
I cringe. “Thirty one.”
“You’re in competition with a twenty-two-year-old college graduate. You reek of single mother starting over and I want you to win because I think you deserve it. So go and get this story.”
I think about Bianca and what it means if I go to Houston for work that could take weeks or months to complete. But if I get it, I can pay Fallon back for my shit show of a divorce and finally get back on my feet.
I look down at my bare legs. Think about my empty fridge and empty bank account. I can’t say no. I’ll ask Kelli for air miles to get Bianca a ticket down to spend a weekend with me. It’ll be fine.
And Houston means Remi.
I push that thought away. That’s really the last thing that should be on my mind. But it is increasingly so, since my divorce.
I’m single. And he is, too. I haven’t seen him in eight years. And that last time had been so painful, I’m not sure he’ll be happy to see me.
It may not be a good idea to poke at old wounds. I’m just asking for more heartbreak. But the truth is, even after all of these years, my heart is still his to break. Even now, just at the thought of seeing him, the foolish thing is beating wildly.
23
MISSING
KAL
“I’m meeting Kalilah Greer,” I hear a voice behind me speak softly to the maître d’.
“Regan?” I call to her back and she turns around and gapes at me.
“Kal. Is that you?”
I let her stare. I look nothing like she remembers.
To be fair, she looks nothing like she used to, either. At her wedding, the gawky, skinny girl with terrible acne and braces was already long gone. But even then, in her couture wedding gown, she’d still had an air of insecurity around her. Today, Regan Wilde-Landel stands in front of me in all of her glory.
She looks perfect. Her hair is a sleek sea of chocolate silk whipped into beautiful waves that hover at her shoulders. I only see hair that perfect in magazines. No one looks like that in real life.
Well no one, but Regan.
Her tanned, honey skin is polished and glows, against the white of her body-hugging blouse. Her makeup so expertly applied that I wonder if maybe she doesn’t have it tattooed into place. Her body, even after three children, is ridiculously toned.
She’s dressed head to toe in Carolina Herrera couture. Black pencil skirt, white blouse with flounces at the sleeves. A sexy, but simple pair of black patent leather Louboutin’s adorn her small, perfectly lovely feet. Small gold hoops dangle from her ears. A simple gold band on her finger where most wealthy women wear their huge diamonds.
She doesn’t need diamonds to declare that she has a right to be here. She is a diamond. Of the first water. And she’s come fully into her own.
I’m envious of that. I’m still sifting through the rubble of my life to figure out who I am. Today I’m dressed like the journalist I wish I was. In clothes I can no longer afford to buy. My once unfettered dark curls have been blown straight, highlighted with gold and restrained in the confines of my signature ponytail. I’ve got a face full of makeup, that’s both heavier and a lot less subtle than Regan’s.
Her eyes roam over my well-tailored dark black pants, a creamy cashmere sweater that wraps around my body with a belt of gold silk, my kid leather ankle boots, and my Kate Spade handbag which all look perfectly chic and respectable.
There’s not a hint of the refusal to conform that used to be the calling card of my style. But this is what eight years as a “Stepford Wife” has made me. I don’t remember the last time I left my house with no makeup on.
Suddenly, it feels heavy, when I speak, I can feel it moving in the small lines around my mouth and eyes. I can’t wait to wash it off.
“Kal, thank you for meeting me. You look wonderful.” She leans in to kiss me on the cheek and embraces me.
“Raul, we’re ready to be seated.” She graces the man with a warm smile before tucking her arm through mine and leading us through the restaurant. “Come on. We have a lot to talk about. I booked us a private room for lunch. This is where the boozy bored housewives come to hang out. I only come when I need to go somewhere no one will notice me. I’m one of them now. Minus the boozy part,” she says and I am a little caught off guard by how candid she’s just been with me.
I only called her because I couldn’t reach Remi. We barely know each other. I wasn’t even sure she would know who I was when I called.
When I asked her if she had a good number for Remi, she said, “I have no idea where he is. We haven’t heard from him in months.” Then she burst into tears and my heart stopped.
Remi missing? It sounded… impossible. It was like saying the moon fell out of the sky. When she asked
me to meet her for lunch, I’d come right away.
As soon as Raul shuts the door of our little dark wood-walled dining room, she leans in and grabs my hands.
“I’m sorry I fell apart like that on the phone.” She looks like she might cry again.
“Tell me what happened.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly.
“I don’t know. He’s gone.”
“So, no one knows where he is?”
“Someone knows. His fucking partners at the firm. They said they’re not able to divulge it. His best friend’s wife works for him, and they don’t know where he is either. I was hoping you might.”
“Me?” I lean away, completely taken aback.
She fiddles with the edge of her napkin, and looks away from me.
“Why would you think that?”
“Look, I know you were married and you guys didn’t stay in touch. But, I heard you and Paul split, kind of around the same time he went missing. I thought maybe, the two of you had finally gone for it. He’s never gotten over you.”
I’m stunned. “Really?”
She doesn’t appear to hear me. She’s staring at her napkin and tugging at it like she’s trying to tear it.
“His car’s GPS system was turned off. He hasn’t made a phone call. He hasn’t sent an email.”
“Why haven’t you called the police?”
“I told you, because his partners at the law firm know where he is. He’s not missing. Just not talking to his family.”
“But, why would he do that?”
“I don’t know.” She practically growls in frustration. “No one does.”
“How is that possible? When’s the last time you saw him?”
“The last time anyone saw him was the day he went to the hospital to see Gigi Rivers.”
An alarm bell rings in my head. I lean forward, and even though I know we’re alone, I still look around the room, just to make sure.
“Why would he go and see Gigi Rivers?”
“He and Hayes are best friends. They have been since Hayes moved back.”
“I thought your families were feuding?” I ask and take a sip of my water to quench my parched throat.
“Well, it’s never been our generation. That’s something our parents know about, but never told us more than that the Wilde’s weren’t one of us. But, they… they’re just really close.” Her voice cracks.
She closes her eyes and battles back tears. “Hayes just got married. I was sure he’d come back for that. But, he didn’t. And—it’s my daughter’s birthday today. That’s why I’m so distraught. He would never ever miss this. I think something’s happened to him. Those men at the office don’t care as long as they’re making money. Remi’s out there somewhere, alone.”
“Oh my God…” My mind is whirling, and my heart thuds as I try to parse and separate what she’s saying about Remi from my questions about Gigi Rivers.
“Kal, Remi is intensely private. He’s always been, but in the last few years, as his career took off, he’s become like a different person. He’s a complete workaholic, a taskmaster, perfectionist, and really kind of closed off to any real affection. He moved back here when my grandfather died. He’s been really focused on building Wilde Law. He goes off sometimes, but he’s never just disappeared. I’m afraid he’s not coming back.”
My stomach forms a knot. The thought of Remi somewhere hurt or stranded and alone sends chills through my body.
Regan doesn’t seem to notice my stillness or feel my panic.
“I’m still trying to protect his privacy. He wouldn’t want this to be news. Whatever is going on with him is obviously serious. His assistant quit right when he left, and I know he wouldn’t trust anyone else, I’ve been managing his calendar. But, I fucked-up. I forget to cancel one of his appearances. He was the keynote speaker. Now, there’s gossip that he’s missing.” Her face is pinched.
“Oh, wow…” I shake my head in bewilderment, trying to put together the meager facts she’s just given me.
“So he didn’t get in touch with you at all?”
Her question lurches me out of the daze that the rest of her words put me in. “I’ve heard nothing. But… I think I’m the last person he’d call.”
“Kal, you’re probably the only person he’d call. He talks about you all the time. Those Christmas cards Paul sends Marcel every year? He’s confiscated every single one. His refrigerator is covered with them. I just assumed… I thought he would come to you…” She covers her face in despair.
“No, he didn’t come to me,” I say slowly.
“Oh God. I don’t know what to do. Gigi Rivers won’t talk to any of us.” She wails.
“Why? Because of the feud?”
“I guess.” She clears her throat and composes herself. “My mother’s tried. She said she won’t see us. I don’t understand. I’m friends with Stone Rivers, but he’s off in Medellín or some shit and otherwise, I have no contact with the rest of them. I don’t know what to do.”
“Are you kidding? Your brother is missing. And you haven’t talked to the last people who saw him?” She leans away from the judgement in my voice.
“I told you, my mother tried, they won’t talk to us.” She insists.
“And you believe your mother?” I am incredulous. I know firsthand that the woman is a devious, shameless liar.
She frowns. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I cock my head at her. She was at the party, she may not have seen it go down, but she must have heard.
Her wide eyes fill with regret as she remembers and she flattens her lips in regret.
“I know what she did to you. It was so wrong. But this is different. She wants to find Remi desperately. She’s out of her mind with worry.”
She can’t possibly be that naïve about her mother. If she wants something, she gets it. If she hasn’t found Remi, it’s because she hasn’t tried to.
But, I hold my tongue because I can see in her earnest eyes that she believes what she’s saying.
I don’t believe it’s possible that Tina’s not involved somehow, but it won’t help me to distance Regan by insulting her now.
“Do you know how I can reach Gigi Rivers?”
“She’s in Rivers Wilde. She bought a place. But, she’s got security…”
“I’m not going to break in. I’ll just go over, tell her I’m looking for Remi. If she’s hostile or won’t talk, then at least we’ll know that something went down in that hospital room and we can start looking for answers about what.”
Regan’s eyes widen. “Oh, Kal. Thank you so much.”
She smiles for the first time and the hope in it makes me anxious.
“Don’t thank me yet. Even if I do get in to see her, I don’t know how much she’ll tell me.”
“It’ll be better than nothing. When will you go?” She takes a huge swig of water.
I glance at my watch. This detour is going to throw a wrench in my plans, but if something has happened to Remi, I have to help.
“I need to go back to my hotel and make some calls and send some emails, but I’ll go today.”
She clamps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Kal, I’m so self-absorbed. I’ve hijacked your trip with this drama about Remi. I’m so sorry.” She covers my hand with hers. “Tell me why you’re in town.”
My mind is so focused on unpacking everything she’s told me, that I draw a blank for a second.
“Are you okay?” Her pretty brow furrows in worry.
I shake myself and hope my benign smile is convincing.
“I’m in town doing research on a story I’m writing and just thought I’d look up an old friend.”
Her confused sadness clears and in its place is the other thing she and Remi share—keen, knowing gazes.
“Why didn’t you just call Remi’s office? Why call me? We’re not friends,” she says and I get my own guard right back up.
She may be nice, but she was never stupid. Her tears made me forget that I’m on an assignment.
One that requires me to lie to her.
“I did call his office. No one answered. So, I called yours next.”
She nods slowly as if she’s processing what I’ve said and is deciding whether she believes it.
“What story are you working on?” she asks finally.
“It’s an investigation. I can’t talk about it, I signed an NDA. You understand,” I say with a small, not particularly friendly smile.
She holds my gaze for a few minutes and then smiles apologetically.
“I’m sorry. I don’t trust anyone right now. We’ve had some local press sniffing around since he missed that event and I’m just so on edge. Here you are about to do me a huge favor and I’m giving you the ninth degree.”
I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “You’ve had a hard day. It’s okay.”
“Thank you, Kal. I know you always cared so much about Remi.”
I smile and look down at my hands because I can’t keep looking her in the eye and pretend that I’m being purely altruistic.
I am worried about Remi and want to find him, too. But, I didn’t come down here expecting to find that there might be connection between Gigi Rivers getting shot and the Wildes. It seems like a long shot, but Remi up and disappearing after visiting her in the hospital feels like something…
“I’ll talk to Gigi. And let you know what I find.” I tell her.
“Thank you so much You have no idea how grateful I am.”
“It’ll be a good place to start. Maybe she can tell us if he seemed upset about something when she saw him. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll talk to some of the hospital staff and see if anyone saw or heard anything.” I tell her.
“I should have thought of that. But, my little not so secret poison pen article hasn’t exactly honed my skills as a journalist.” She smiles self-deprecatingly.
“Poison pen?”
“It’s just a gossip column I write under a pen name. It’s an open secret that it’s me. But, I haven’t worked properly since I married Marcel.”
“Do you want to work?” I ask. She smiles blandly and then proceeds to act like she didn’t hear me.