“I didn’t think about it that hard.” He gave a nervous laugh. There was definitely more to this.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Yeah…that. See, the thing is, when I got hurt? I didn’t exactly fall.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got thrown down the stairs. I interrupted a burglar and he kind of head-butted me off the landing.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I didn’t want Eve to worry, so I said I fell.”
“Did you call the police?”
“I blacked out from the pain and my neighbor took me to a doc in the box. When I got back, it didn’t look like anything was missing, so I let it go. The next day I noticed my external drives were gone and all my P2 cards, including the one in my camera.”
“They left a 20K camera to steal a media card? Then did you call the cops?”
“Why? I don’t have insurance. The drives and cards aren’t worth much. They’re backup or I reuse them. Besides, the cops would just get black dust all over everything.”
“So there’s no police report, and some guy took external drives and media cards and nothing else. Huh. You think maybe it was Bascom’s people after the original footage?”
“If it was, they didn’t get it. It’s still in the drive I left at the studio where I get high-res output.”
“You’re kidding. So…what if they come back?” A chill went through Brody. He felt like some TV detective, except real-life crimes didn’t get cleared up in sixty minutes, with a happy little epilogue at the end.
“That would be a bummer.”
“Why would Bascom buy a copy from you if he was stealing the original tape? And who took it from Madden?”
“You got me, Brody. This makes my head hurt.”
“Maybe they were working both ends. Or maybe your burglar was my gunman—Meathead. Did the guy who hit you have a red face and little beady eyes? Was he heavyset?”
“I didn’t see much of him. He just rammed into me and kept running. I don’t get it. I’d have wiped the drive if they’d asked me to. Shit. Why go to so much trouble?”
“Why does anybody commit a crime? For money, sex or power. To get more or protect what they have.” He’d put those words in Trent Lager’s mouth on paper already.
“I’m sorry I threw you into this, Brode. I was going to deliver the DVD myself, except the surgery. And I didn’t put Madden and the burglary together.”
“Maybe they’re unrelated. We’ll figure it out, though. First off, call the police and tell them what happened.”
“If you think it’ll help.”
“It’s a start. Give them my number because they’ll want to talk to me about Madden and Meathead.”
“I’ll do that. Okay. Sure.”
He had a bad thought. “You know, if they come back you could be in trouble. Maybe get out of your apartment for a while. Is there some place you can stay?”
“I have Eve’s keys. When she’s on vacation, I watch her stuff. She’s got the best plasma.”
“So stay there. Also, make another copy of the footage and put it and the drive somewhere safe—a safe-deposit box, maybe? See what the police suggest. It might be evidence.”
“You sound like a cop in a movie, Brody. Very cool.”
“Just don’t expect this to blow over, Kirk. I don’t think it’s going to. Make the call.”
“Don’t tell Eve about this, okay? She’ll go nuts.”
“Eve’s the least of your troubles. Tell the police everything. And stay safe, would you?”
“I will. No problem. So how’s the shoot going? JJ working out? Eve’s kind of quiet about it.”
“JJ’s doing great,” he said with a sigh, struggling to shift topics. “She’s smart, has a good eye and a lot of energy. She fit in right away.”
Kirk hesitated. “So you don’t miss me, then.” His voice went soft and sad. “That’s good, I guess.”
“She’s no wingman, Kirk. Of course we miss you. Eve especially. She’s cranky as hell, picking on JJ all the time.”
“That’s Eve.” He chuckled, sounding relieved. “I should give JJ some tips for handling her. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll have to have an assistant for a while. No carrying the camera, but I’ll be cool for Europe. Amsterdam rocks.”
Kirk’s enthusiasm put an ache in Brody’s gut. Unless they chose a new Doctor Nite, there would be no European shoot. Before he could bring up the HBO job again, the phone clicked.
“Hang on,” Kirk said. He came back in a second. “It’s Eve reminding me about my PT appointment. She is so…relentless.” But he sounded pleased about it.
“Call me back after you talk to the police.”
Brody turned off his phone, pondering the situation. If somebody was willing to break into Kirk’s home to get the DVD and chase down a copy using force, something serious was at stake. He decided to poke around a little himself, try Madden again on the cell phone. And he worked for a political guy…Jed Bascom? Who just might still be at the convention…
The front desk informed him Bascom had checked out, since the conference had ended the night before. Brody asked for Lars Madden and learned the man had not been registered at the hotel. Interesting. Of course it had been a hospitality suite, so the convention staff might have booked the room.
Next, he ran Jed Bascom through a Google search, which netted a dozen hits. The man was a California state senator, a conservative and former CEO of a family-values lobbying group. He showed up in a ton of recent news stories, where he was known for his antidrug, anti-immigration, antipornography positions. His name had been floated as a possible Congressional candidate.
To a guy like that, a video of him snorting coke from a stripper’s navel could be a career killer. No wonder his staffer had offered Kirk big bucks for the footage. But a copy? As a souvenir? Bascom would want to wipe the memory of every person in the room if that were possible.
Maybe they didn’t know for sure what Kirk, in his innocent idiocy, had actually shot and wanted to verify how much trouble they were in. Or maybe two groups were after the footage for different reasons. Whatever it was, Brody knew this wasn’t over.
From the state legislature’s Web site, he found Bascom’s office number. The secretary said Bascom was due on the floor soon, but promised to convey Brody’s message about an urgent matter related to the recent conference.
She resisted his banter, denied his request for Bascom’s cell number, repeating robotically that the senator considered all constituent calls urgent and would return Brody’s as soon as possible. In the end, he threw out a casual question. “Lars Madden around?”
“I haven’t seen him, no.”
“Could you ring him for me?”
“Mr. Madden does not have an office in the building,” she said primly.
“Okay. Sure. I hate to trouble you, but I’ve been dialing his cell with no luck. Has he lost it again?”
“I don’t believe so. Mr. Madden called earlier this morning to speak with Senator Bascom.” So his friendly ploy had worked.
He thanked her for her time. Now he knew Lars Madden was alive and holding his cell phone, at least, and as soon as he hung up, he left another message for the guy: “Brody Donegan here. Wanting to make sure the DVD worked out all right for you.” He left his cell number. It didn’t seem wise to mention what he’d seen. Yet, anyway.
All he could do now was wait for Bascom or Madden to return his calls and for Kirk to talk to the police.
Now what? He was up early and starving. What about JJ? He could order room service and surprise her with breakfast in her room. And sex? Would that be part of the surprise?
The idea set him on fire. He’d love to fall into her warm bed and lose himself in the physical moment. But that would be wrong. He’d be hiding from himself and his doubts.
Besides, JJ had probably meant that about forgetting what had happened. She was a serious girl.
God, he hoped not.
/>
Forget that. Get busy, you ass. So he ordered food to his room and sat down to work on Night Crimes. The best advice he’d seen was to make writing a daily habit. So he would do that. Just one page and he’d see where he went from there.
He opened the file. The P.I. scene was too sexy to continue with JJ only a few floors below him, rolling around naked in her bed, sheets twisted between her incredible legs…
Okkkaaaay. He made his way to that blasted pier where Trent was waiting for his next move. How would Trent feel? Nervous, wired and ready for action.
Exactly how Brody had felt last night trying to protect JJ. He pictured Meathead and his beady eyes and rode the adrenaline rush to the end of the scene. Thank you, Kirk. At least his mess had gotten Brody moving on his book. His mess and JJ, of course.
8
RIGHT ON TIME for the van to the airport, Jillian stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, her camera case over her shoulder, her heart banging her ribs at the prospect of seeing Brody again. So ridiculous. She was relieved to see he hadn’t yet arrived. She had more time to settle her nerves.
She was still angry she’d allowed those lust-loaded dominoes to click out of control. As a result, she’d hardly slept, which was no way to face a film day. Her body ached with exhaustion.
She smiled at Brian and Bob, who headed out front. Through the glass doors she saw the rest of the crew beside the second van. Eve stood near the concierge desk, multitasking as usual, jabbing at her BlackBerry, talking via her wireless phone earpiece, an energy drink at her elbow.
Jillian headed her way, determined to be completely cool and confident with Brody, to set up all those dominoes as if they’d never fallen.
Brody was Brody, so his behavior was no surprise. Jillian had no excuse for hers. She was no swoony girl. She was a serious filmmaker with work to do and a mission to fulfill.
She would do just what she’d said—forget what had happened. Well, except for the mysterious gunman incident. She’d ask Brody about that when she could.
As she reached Eve, the producer frowned, but her absent stare told Jillian it was the caller who’d upset her. “I’m counting on you,” she said. “Verify for me…. Call me back…. Okay…. A-S-A-P. Really.” She touched her ear, evidently ending the call, then swiveled her miss-nothing gaze to Jillian. “Late night, I see.”
“It shows?” She flushed and put her hand to her hair, which she’d pulled into her usual ponytail. Glancing beyond Eve, she noticed that Brody was headed toward them from the elevator.
“Of course. Puffy cheeks…pale skin…bloodshot eyes with big, black bags…” In typical Eve style, she listed the features like a checklist.
“You look fine,” Brody said to her from behind Eve, who spun toward him.
“You look even worse, Brody, and you’ll be in front of the camera. Your skin looks like school glue and your eyes are positively satanic. I thought you were turning in early.”
He shrugged. “Doctor Nite is supposed to look beat-up.”
“Thank God for eyedrops,” Eve said, grabbing a small bottle from her bag and thrusting it at him with a sigh. “Let’s go. She headed off at a snappy march, her behind twitching officiously.
Brody held out the drops to Jillian. “Want some?”
“I’m fine,” she said, watching him apply the liquid to his eyes, liking the way the muscles of his throat moved. God, she was turned on by his throat? Hopeless.
He blinked at her, moisture sliding down his cheek.
“What if Eve figures out why we both look like roadkill?”
He leaned close to her ear. “Stop blushing and she won’t.”
She touched her cheeks.
“You look very pretty. I don’t know what Eve’s talking about.” They looked at each other for a long, breathless moment, then Brody said, “We’d better go or she will figure it out.” He put a hand to her back and led her toward the door.
Outside, the winter light had a bright cast and the brisk breeze cooled Jillian’s embarrassment, at least. She could only hope Eve mistook her blush for a response to the cold.
“We don’t have a minute to waste in San Fran,” Eve said to them. “The sex store shoot has to be before the erotic bakery because the store owner wants to be interviewed. We won’t use it, JJ, so mostly get B-roll.”
“Sure,” Jillian said.
“I’m serious. No fancy shots. Just coverage.” She seemed to realize how harsh she’d sounded and softened her voice. “The clock’s ticking, that’s all I’m saying.” She bustled off to talk to the crew.
Jillian let the bellman stow her camera, then slid under Brody’s arms to sit beside him, alive to him, aware of his strength, his smell, the way his eyes followed her as she moved.
“Why is Eve so pissed at me?” she asked. She wanted to ask him if he’d slept with Eve, but that seemed too nosy.
“Not sure. She’s pretty protective of Kirk. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll like you better.”
“And do you?”
“You’re not nearly as hairy.”
She laughed softly, knowing they were treading on dangerous ground, but loving it anyway. “You don’t think she suspects us?”
“Of what? I went to bed early. How about you? Wasn’t that the idea? To forget last night?” His eyes glowed golden brown. “Did you forget?”
“Not really. You?”
“Not in a million years.”
A shiver flew through her. Brody didn’t sound one bit like a player. Last night seemed to have meant something to him, too.
“Of course, Eve could pick up the vibe anyway,” he said. “Women have built-in antennae for that kind of thing.”
“You’ve been in trouble before?”
“Enough to know better.”
“There’s a price for living the dream, I guess.”
“Worth it, though.” He grinned wickedly.
She couldn’t believe she was joking with Brody about the very thing she despised—men toying with women’s hearts, then escaping as if it meant nothing. She felt like an undercover cop who had to pretend to be one of the creeps she intended to bust.
Except she no longer thought of Brody as a heartless user. He was warm and aware and kind. Unless she’d misread him completely. Maybe her instincts were off. Libido could color your views as much as past experiences, she guessed, though it had never happened to her before. She’d never been in a situation like this, never reacted so intensely to a man.
“I talked to Kirk about the DVD, by the way,” Brody said.
“What did he say?” She was relieved to have something else to think about.
Brody explained a burglary at Kirk’s place had caused his injury and told her of Brody’s calls to Lars Madden and his boss the legislator. She found it fascinating and liked that Brody was following up to help Kirk.
“Just don’t say anything to Eve about this,” Brody said, watching the woman out the window, where she seemed to be telling the drivers of both vans what route to take. “Kirk doesn’t want her to harass him about it.”
“So I’m not the only one she hassles?”
“Not by a long shot. It’s her way, but she gets things done. I’m sure she’ll calm down after a while.”
“Should I tell her I’m not after Kirk’s job?”
“She knows I’d never fire Kirk.”
Jillian realized that was true. Brody was a loyal guy. He clearly cared about his crew.
“You’re on the right track, JJ, praising her like you do. You’re good, like I said.”
Their eyes met and held. “Did you sleep much?” Brody asked, as if the talk of the crime and Eve had been a mere sidebar to the real conversation that wasn’t nearly finished.
“Not at all.”
“Me, either.” Had he thought of her? Longed for her? She shouldn’t care, but his eyes searched her face, reading her, absorbing her, and she was doing the same to him. Could he tell that she’d wanted more? She’d half hoped he’d storm her room this mornin
g to finish what they’d barely sampled.
Eve opened the front van door. “No fooling around today,” Eve said to them.
Jillian whipped startled eyes to Brody, who looked equally alarmed. They burst out laughing.
“What?” Eve frowned. “We have to hit the ground running, that’s all.” But she glared at them like misbehaving children before she flounced around to tell the driver to hurry it up.
Jillian shrugged at Brody, and he chuckled and squeezed her knee in a friendly way that stayed with her all the way to the airport.
The flight to San Francisco was uneventful, except that Jillian drifted to sleep and awoke to find her head on Brody’s chest. She jerked up, embarrassed. “Sorry I did that.”
“It was a pleasure.” He leaned close. “I got to smell you the whole way.”
She smiled, then noticed a trail of saliva on his shirt. “I drooled on you.” She reached to wipe it away, but he stopped her hand, holding it warmly in his, looking down at the wet streak on his shirt. “Very decorative. I like it.”
“Stop,” she said, pushing at his arm, then realized how intimate that would seem to anyone watching. Luckily, Eve, sitting across the aisle, seemed engrossed in the Variety she’d brought, iPod buds in her ears, drinking a Red Bull.
They landed at noon and within an hour they’d reached the first San Francisco location for Jillian’s second day of shooting. It would be a long one, with afternoon locations and a break to check in and rest before the night’s action in the city’s hottest clubs commenced.
With its sugary aroma, lacy white-metal furniture, red-striped upholstery and warmly romantic atmosphere, Eat Me Erotic Treats could have been any bakery, except that the brightly frosted cakes, pies and cupcakes that filled the display case were decorated like penises, breasts and vaginas.
Many customers recognized Brody and numerous women were happy to talk on camera about which sexy treats they would like for Valentine’s Day.
Before long, she was taping a woman licking frosting from a penis sticking out of a cupcake while Brody looked on. “Oh, yummy,” the woman said with an exaggerated tongue move.
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