Say something to Toby. Demand he do something.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash. Without warning, a stiletto-heeled sandal sailed through the doorway, followed by a second one. With a clunk, the first shoe hit the wall opposite the doorway and bounced back, the spiky heel coming within just inches of Toby’s head. With lightning reflexes, Toby threw up his hand and caught the second one the moment it bounced off the wall. For a moment he stared at the shoe; then abruptly, quick as a wink, he turned and disappeared through the doorway.
Within seconds, the cursing stopped, and except for a distinctly male groan of pain, no other sounds came from the room. Moments later, Toby, towering over Nick, shoved the smaller man through the doorway into the hall.
Charlotte swallowed hard. With one meaty hand, Toby had Nick’s arm twisted up behind his back and with his other hand he had a firm grip on Nick’s shoulder.
His expression dark and angry, Nick spat out a profanity. “You’re breaking my arm.”
Toby’s eyes narrowed and in a deep, gravelly voice edged with steel, he said, “Shut your filthy mouth or I’ll break more than just your arm.” As if to emphasize his point, he jerked Nick’s arm even higher.
“Okay, okay,” Nick cried out. “Ease up, man.”
With a satisfied nod, Toby told him to “Move it” and marched him down the hallway toward the staircase. “This time I want you off the property.”
They were headed right toward Charlotte, and she had nowhere to go to get out of the way, so she plastered herself against the wall. Afraid that any minute Nick would break free and there would be a brawl, she didn’t dare move a muscle until the two men passed her. Only when they’d disappeared down the staircase did she remember to breathe again.
Charlotte glanced down at the script in her hand. Now what? Should she still take it to Angel?
Almost as if Angel had read her thoughts, Charlotte heard her yell, “Where is that maid? Get her in here now! And find Max. Tell him to get up here.”
Within seconds, Heather Cortez appeared in the dressing room doorway. Up until that moment, it had never occurred to Charlotte that there might be someone else in the room during the brawl between Angel and Nick.
“Oh, Charlotte, there you are, thank goodness,” Heather said as she hurried toward her. “Angel wants to see you.” A momentary look of discomfort crossed her pale face. “But I guess you heard her, huh?”
When Charlotte nodded, Heather managed a tremulous smile in response, and Charlotte couldn’t help noticing that Heather’s eye didn’t look quite as puffy as it had the day before.
“I have to find Max,” Heather continued. “He’s the director. I’ll be right back, though.” With that, she brushed past Charlotte and hurried down the stairs.
Figuring there was only one reason that Angel would ask to see “that maid,” Charlotte took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, squaring her shoulders and reminding herself that Angel was not the devil incarnate, but simply a spoiled brat, she headed for the dressing room doorway.
When she entered the room, at first Charlotte didn’t notice Angel for the clutter that seemed to cover every inch of the floor. Evidently, the shoes weren’t the only items she’d thrown during her temper tantrum. The room bore no resemblance to how Charlotte had left it the day before and was a total mess. Then she spied Angel. The young woman was half hidden behind a rack of clothes and standing as still as a statue as she stared out of the window.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “You wanted to see me?”
At first Angel didn’t respond. When she did finally turn to face Charlotte, her face reflected the ravages of her tantrum. In a clipped, impatient tone, she said, “Clean up this mess, and when Max gets here, tell him I’m in the master bedroom.”
Charlotte nodded. “Okay. One thing, though. I was told to give you this.” She held out the script. “They said that some changes had been made.”
Anger flashed in Angel’s eyes. Without a word, and without a thank-you or kiss my butt, she snatched the script from Charlotte and stomped out of the room.
Seconds later, Charlotte heard a bedroom door down the hallway slam shut. “Brat,” she muttered as she picked her way through the mess on the floor. Once she had most of the clutter put back where it belonged, she removed the liner from the wastebasket and left to take it to the outside garbage receptacle.
On the way down the staircase, Charlotte met a wiry, baldheaded man who was on his way up. She paused. “Ah, excuse me. Are you Max, the director?” When the man nodded, she said, “I’m Charlotte, the maid.”
“Yeah, I know who you are. What do you want? I’m in sort of a hurry right now.”
“Sure, but Angel asked me to tell you that she would be waiting in the master bedroom.”
Max rolled his eyes. “Great. Just wonderful,” he responded, his voice heavy with sarcasm, as he brushed past her and continued up the stairs.
Outside the kitchen door, Charlotte deposited the trash bag into the garbage receptacle. When she turned to reenter the house, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Nick and Toby on the front edge of the property. Though she couldn’t hear what Toby was telling Nick, she knew from the fierce expression on his face and the way he was poking Nick in the chest with his forefinger, whatever he was saying couldn’t be good.
“Mutt and Jeff,” she murmured. Though Nick was well built, Toby towered over him. But then Toby towered over most people.
Just as she made up her mind to go back inside, Nick suddenly drew back his fist and Charlotte froze. In a move quick as lightning, Toby grabbed Nick’s fist, twisted him around, and brought him to his knees. Out of nowhere, two security guards suddenly appeared just as Toby drew back his hand to deliver what Charlotte could only speculate was a karate chop. Each security guard grabbed an arm and pulled Toby off Nick. Then the larger of the two men stepped in front of Toby and said something to him. Whatever he’d said must have worked, because with one last glare at Nick, Toby did an about-face and headed for the house. Then the security guards took hold of Nick’s arms and escorted him all the way to his car.
Would this day never end?
It was only barely noon, but Charlotte’s legs ached and she felt like groaning out loud as she walked down the steps of the back porch and headed for the food tent. Though she suspected that most of her aches and pains were the result of so many trips up and down the stairs doing Angel’s bidding, she feared that she could be coming down with a summer cold or the flu.
Charlotte eyed the outside of the completely enclosed white tent that had been assembled at the back of Bitsy’s property. Dalton had told her there would be a catered lunch buffet for the crew and that she was to feel free to help herself.
Unsure exactly what to expect, she stepped through the flaps that served as the door to the tent, and a blast of blessedly cool air hit her. Air-conditioning? In a tent? Impressive.
Glancing around, she saw that there was a long buffet table at one end of the tent for the food, while several smaller tables and chairs had been placed in the remaining space. The whole thing almost resembled a small restaurant.
By the time that Charlotte had filled her plate and selected a bottle of water from the small tub full of various types of iced-down drinks, all of the tables and chairs were occupied.
The only other shade in the backyard was beneath the back portico of Bitsy’s house. In addition to the shade, there was also a fan on the ceiling of the porch. Charlotte climbed the steps. Though tempted to sit at the top of the steps, she decided that sitting off to the side was more practical, especially with people coming in and out of the house. Selecting a spot on the edge of the porch near a column, she put her food and drink down first. Then, with a groan, she lowered herself to the floor of the porch and dangled her legs off the side.
She had just settled in to eat when she noticed a man walking toward her. A frown knotted her forehead. The tall, middle-aged man was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt and bl
ack dress pants and he looked vaguely familiar. Over the past two days, she’d met a lot of the movie people, but she didn’t remember him being one of them. So where had she seen him before?
Probably someone she’d met somewhere else, she decided.
“Mind if I sit with you?” he asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.
Charlotte shrugged. “Not at all. And by the way, my name is Charlotte—Charlotte LaRue.”
The man’s smile grew wider, showing a mouthful of white, perfectly straight teeth. “Oh, I know who you are, and you know me. You just don’t recognize me, do you?”
Charlotte felt heat flood her face. “You do look familiar,” she admitted. When he busied himself settling down next to her and didn’t say anything, she finally said, “Well? Are you going to tell me who you are or keep me guessing all afternoon?”
The man laughed as if she’d just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “I’m tempted to keep you guessing, but a really nice lady once told me that it’s not nice to tease your elders.”
“Humph, sounds like something I would say.”
“Oh, does it, now?” He chuckled. “Hmm, maybe I’ll give you a hint first. How’s my old friend Hank been doing? And do you still make a red velvet cake for Hank on his birthday each year?”
“Benny? Benny Jackson!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
So it was true. The Benny Jackson that was Angel’s chauffeur was the same Benny Jackson that was once Hank’s best friend when they were young teenagers.
Again Charlotte felt her face flush with embarrassment. “Oh, Benny, I’m so sorry that I didn’t recognize you right away.”
Benny laughed. “After the misery Hank and I put you through, you probably wanted to just forget that I ever existed.”
“Yes, well, there was that—the misery part. The both of you together were certainly a handful.”
Benny grinned. “Yeah, back then I was trouble with a capital T. I never told you this, and I’m glad I finally have the opportunity to do so, but I have you to thank for finally getting me on the straight and narrow. If it hadn’t been for your influence in my life back then, I’d probably have ended up in jail.”
Stunned and momentarily speechless, Charlotte swallowed the sudden knot of emotion growing in her throat.
“When I think back to all the sh—oops, sorry, I mean stuff I was doing—it was a wonder that you let me in the front door at all.” Benny winked. “See, I still remember all those tongue-lashings you gave me about using proper language, especially around ladies.”
Charlotte smiled and Benny paused to take a bite of the fried chicken leg on his plate. “You’re really looking good, Benny,” she told him. “As for Hank, he became a doctor—a surgeon. He and his wife have a set of eight-month-old twins, a boy and a girl.”
“I’d heard he was some hotshot doctor but didn’t know about the twins.”
Charlotte grinned proudly. “Yep, I’m a grandma—finally. But listen, I know Hank would love to see you. Give him a call, why don’t you? But that’s enough about Hank for now. I want to know all about you.”
“Well, I’m no doctor, that’s for sure. But I did finally graduate from high school, even if it was by the skin of my teeth. And by the way, that’s another thing I have you to thank for. All those lectures you gave me about not letting my circumstances dictate my future sank in.”
Again, Charlotte choked up. Unable to look him in the eye, she lowered her gaze to stare at her plate of untouched food. She had wanted to help Benny, had tried to help him for a while, but the influence of his background and his sordidly dysfunctional family had been more than she was prepared to handle. With the exception of Benny, most of his family were alcoholics and drug addicts—people willing to sell their own son, along with their souls, for their next fix. It had all come to a head the day that Benny’s mother showed up on her doorstep and demanded to know why Benny hadn’t made the “drop” earlier that day. Charlotte had ended up having to threaten the drugged-up woman with the police to get her to leave. Even now, so many years later, she still felt guilty over that period of her life and the choices she’d made concerning Benny.
“Now, Miss Charlotte.” Benny reached out and patted her hand. “I know that look. Don’t you go feeling all guilty about none of that stuff. That’s in the past. I don’t blame you for running my butt off. Oh, I’ll admit that I was plenty hot about it way back then, but not anymore. I lead a different kind of life now.”
Benny motioned toward the untouched food on her plate. “You better eat up. If I know Angel, she’ll be yelling for both of us once she finishes her lunch.”
Charlotte nodded and forked up a bite of the chicken and andouille jambalaya. Fork midair between her plate and her mouth, she asked, “So, how did you end up as Angel’s chauffeur?” While Benny talked, Charlotte savored each bite of the delicious jambalaya.
“I knew if I was going to make anything of myself, I had to get out of this place,” Benny told her. “Had to get away from my family. So, bright and early on the morning after I graduated, way before anyone was awake, I left town and headed for California.”
Though Charlotte wondered how Benny had gotten enough money to go all the way to California, she decided, given Benny’s background, it was probably best not to ask.
“I ended up in Hollywood,” he continued. “Took on odd jobs here and there. Even did a little panhandling for several years just to keep a roof over my head, until I finally landed a regular job waiting tables at a really nice restaurant. I’d worked at the restaurant about a year when Angel got hired to be one of the restaurant’s hostesses. With both of us being from the South and neither of us knowing anyone, we became friends. Back then, Angel was a wannabe actress trying to catch a break, and I had decided to save up enough money so that I could start taking classes at a junior college.”
Benny’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Those were some lean times for both of us, but we hung in there. Angel did finally get her big break and I enrolled in some night classes. I’d always been pretty good with numbers and fancied myself being a CPA.” He laughed. “Of course that didn’t last long. Once Angel hit it big, she talked me into taking the job as her chauffeur. As the old saying goes, she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I figured if the gig with Angel didn’t work out, I could always go back to school. But—as you can see—it did work out.”
Charlotte scraped the last bit of jambalaya onto her fork. All of Benny’s talk about Angel’s success made her think about the incident with Bruce King. “Speaking of Angel, what can you tell me about a man named Bruce King?”
Benny made a sound of disgust. “Nothing good, I’ll assure you. Bruce King is a lying, low-life paparazzo who’s been dogging Angel’s footsteps since she made it big. Angel took out a restraining order and has had him thrown in jail a couple of times for violating it.” Benny shrugged. “But all that does is egg him on. It seems his main goal in life is to dig up dirt on Angel, whether it exists or not. That lunatic is obsessed with her.” He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “So, why did you ask about him?” He suddenly threw up his hand, palm out. “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. He just happened to be hanging around when you left yesterday.”
When Charlotte nodded, Benny said, “So, what did he want?”
While Charlotte told Benny about her run-in with Bruce King, Benny finished eating. “Among other things,” she said, almost finished with her tale, “he wanted me—wanted to pay me—to find out what Angel’s real name is.”
At that, Benny grinned. “Only a handful of people know her real roots and her real name, and none of them are telling. It’s all part of Angel’s image mystique, and besides, those who do know value their jobs too much to tell. The beauty of it is that without her real name or her Social Security number, there’s no way King can find out anything about who she really is.”
At that moment, a noise like a dog barking came from Benny’s pants pocket. “Oops, speaking of the boss la
dy, I’ve got to run.” At the look on Charlotte’s face, he laughed. “The barking dog ring tone is an inside joke between Angel and me.” He got to his feet, then helped Charlotte up off the porch floor. “I’ll alert Security about Bruce King, but if you see him coming, go the other way. Don’t talk to him, but report him to either Toby or one of the Security crew.”
Again, the barking noise came from Benny’s pocket. “Gotta run now, but I’ll talk to you later.” He tossed his paper plate into the trash can and disappeared inside the house.
With a sigh, Charlotte dropped her paper plate and empty bottle into the trash, and she also headed back inside. The moment she entered the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks. Across the room, trapped in the corner by Angel’s manager, Simon Clark, was Nick Franklin. Since earlier she’d witnessed Nick being escorted off the property with her own two eyes, she couldn’t help wondering why he was back. How had he gotten past the security guards?
Not your problem. None of your business.
Doesn’t matter, she silently argued with the irritating voice in her head. No one ever pays attention to the maid anyway.
Just keep walking, Charlotte.
For once, Charlotte decided to listen to the irritating voice, but even from clear across the room, there was no way she could miss the furious look on Simon’s face, nor his aggressive stance. So, how many more people was Nick going to tick off before someone finally put him off the property permanently?
Charlotte was almost to the other door when out of the corner of her eye she saw Simon hold up a sheaf of papers and wave them in Nick’s face.
“I’ve warned you before to stop bringing in this trash,” Simon ranted, his voice growing louder with each word. Then, as if to emphasize his words, Simon stepped over to a nearby garbage can, lifted the lid, and shoved the papers inside. Immediately whirling back around to face Nick, he pointed an imperious forefinger at him. “Your little stunt this morning cost half a day of shooting. If I ever—ever catch you bringing Angel any more scripts, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” Then he yelled, “Security! I need someone from Security!”
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