by Shari King
All three cars present and accounted for. They’d driven in convoy from LA, after persuading Davie and Sarah to give Cabo a miss and come with them. They hadn’t taken much convincing.
Lou had bailed out, though. With only days until the Oscars, it was her busiest time, with endless features and speculation about winners, losers, movies, futures and box-office receipts. Besides, Lou was under no threat. Marilyn wouldn’t be interested in her. Mirren. Zander. Davie. That was who she would blame.
Mirren only blamed herself.
A few years before, Marilyn had contacted her a couple of times, asked for money and to meet the kids. Mirren had returned the letters with a ‘Do not contact’ to a PO box in Liverpool. If only she hadn’t done that. If only she’d used them as a way of keeping Marilyn on side, or at least establishing where she was and what she was doing, but at the time, she’d been too busy with Chloe, too busy trying and failing to keep her family together.
Davie and Sarah alighted from the Veyron and Mirren couldn’t help but laugh. They were escaping danger, keeping a low profile, avoiding harm, and he still came in a million-dollar car with tiny boot space for luggage.
‘I know exactly what you’re thinking,’ Sarah told her. ‘I’ll be wearing the same clothes for as long as we’re here.’ Sarah then turned to Logan, who was pulling a backpack out of the trunk of Mirren’s car. ‘Hey. Are we OK? You know, I’m so sorry it went down that way.’
For a moment, Mirren worried that Logan would resist the olive branch, but she should have known better. Her boy was way too decent for that.
‘We’re cool,’ he told her. ‘To be honest, I’m glad. Jonell is gonna hate me, but at least it’s not all on me now.’
Mirren took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that the intervention worked. She’d spoken to Deeko, the band manager, and set him up with a couple of the addiction specialists at Chloe’s Care. They were working on a plan. Mirren was just glad it no longer involved her son. Had he been stupid? Sure. But he was nineteen and his heart was in the right place. That, she could live with.
‘This place looks incredible,’ Zander said, scanning the view. A huge ranch, and several outhouses, in the middle of green land that stretched in every direction, horses roaming free in many of the fields.
At that moment, the door of the main building behind them opened and a stunning woman in jeans, a plaid shirt and cowboy boots walked towards them, arms outstretched.
‘You finally came to visit!’
‘Cara, thank you so much for letting us come. Sorry it’s such short notice. Cara, this is Zander and Hollie, Davie and Sarah, and of course you’ve met Logan. Everyone, this is Cara Callaghan, who owns this place. Her husband, Lex, is the Clansman.’
‘You’re the one who should be the movie star,’ Davie told her honestly, even if it came off as totally cheesy.
Beside him, Sarah groaned. ‘Cara, I’m sorry. He’s been in Hollywood too long. He’s now coated in smarm.’
Cara’s eyes crinkled as she laughed, making her even more attractive. Lex Callaghan was a lucky guy, Mirren thought for the umpteenth time.
‘I’ll check, but I’m sure we’ve got a programme that will help him with that,’ Cara carried on the joke.
If Mirren had questioned whether or not this was a good idea, here was her answer. They’d all been through such crap lately, they knew the extent of the threat, and they knew it wasn’t over, yet up here it felt like they could breathe. That was all she wanted – not to feel like every moment was an exercise in fear.
They were here, they were together, and this gave Mike Feechan and Brad Bernson and their teams space and time to find the bitch.
‘So how long are you staying? You’re very welcome to hang for as long as you want.’
‘Thank you, but just a few days. As you know, we’ve all had some . . . issues . . . back in LA and we just needed some fresh air.’
Mirren had outlined the situation when she’d called Cara to ask if they could come. A stalker, she’d told her, before filling her in on Davie’s house and the whole shooting-at-his-gates incident. She also told her about Zander’s apartment being ransacked. The intention wasn’t to freak her out, but to be open about the fact that there might be some danger.
On the phone, Cara hadn’t hesitated. ‘Honey, up here, we’ve had pimps and we’ve had dealers. We preach serenity and calm, but we know how to handle it if it goes the other way.’
Cara worked with addicts of all ages, many of them referred to her by the more progressive judges, who understood the benefits of equine therapy. It didn’t always work. Chloe had been up here once, but no amount of healing can fix a soul that doesn’t want to be fixed.
Now, Cara was just as understanding, hugging Mirren again. ‘This is the place to find it, honey. Stay as long as you want. My next group of clients don’t arrive for another couple of weeks, so there’s just me and a few of the hands here. You’ll pretty much have the place to yourselves.’
The fact that there wouldn’t be others around reassured Mirren even more, as there was less chance of a sneaky photo of Davie or Zander ending up on Instagram.
‘Why don’t you all come on into the house and we’ll get you some food and show you your rooms? Davie, you’re in the Anti-Smarm Suite.’
They were all laughing as they started to cross the front yard, until the sound of another approaching vehicle stopped them. When it came to a halt and the dust settled, they watched the newcomer climb out of the car. Mirren shielded her eyes from the sun as she walked to greet the new arrival.
She hadn’t been sure about this at first, but Logan had told her how important it was to him and she didn’t have the heart to refuse him. He needed this, needed some balance to counteract the darkness in which he’d been living. And if her boy needed that, she wasn’t going to be the one who stood in his way. The only condition had been that the Marilyn situation wasn’t mentioned, that the reason they were here would be described as a holiday.
Mirren held out her hand, making a concerted effort to be as welcoming as possible. It was the least she could do for Logan.
‘Hi, I’m Mirren. Logan’s mum.’
A hand met hers; a smile mirrored her own.
‘So pleased to meet you. I’m Lauren. Logan’s girlfriend.’
48.
‘Better Man’ – Paolo Nutini
Zander
The early morning sun was beating down on the back of his head. Had been that way for a while, but he wasn’t ready to move. No one else around. No noise. Just him.
And he felt . . . nothing.
Just nothing.
Numb.
‘You OK there?’ He looked round to see that Cara was only a few feet away, heading towards him. She climbed up beside him, sitting on the top spar of the wooden fence that surrounded the paddock. In the middle distance, four horses, three of them gambolling, the other one standing to the side, looking out to the other field.
‘I’m—’ He stopped. What was he? Good? The usual flippant answer?
Why? What was the point?
She watched him. ‘You don’t know, do you?’ she told him calmly.
There was a tenderness in her voice, a care. This wasn’t a Hollywood conversation. An all-is-fine-an’-yeah-I’m-great. Or a therapist conversation in which they looked for clichés of desperation so that they could spout some psychobabble tosh.
She was listening. Watching.
‘I don’t,’ he admitted. ‘I have no idea.’ He shrugged it off, embarrassed. ‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s just been a crazy time. Got a lot on my mind.’
‘You know what, it’s OK to tell yourself that if you want to,’ she said.
His eyes narrowed. ‘And what if I don’t?’ he answered, suddenly weary.
She let that hang there for a moment and he didn’t rush to explain. Opening up wasn’t what he did, especially to a stranger, a beautiful woman he’d known for five minutes.
Yet she had a serenity, a calm that made
him want to tell her everything. This wasn’t a flirtation or a physical attraction. It was something else, something he’d never felt before.
Neither spoke, both looking out at the horses wandering in the morning sun, their breathing strangely synchronized.
‘I see you,’ she said softly.
His eyes went to the horse that was alone, limping now along the perimeter fence. ‘Am I that one?’ he asked, the words catching in his throat. ‘The broken one?’
Her black hair barely moved as she gently shook her head. ‘No, Zander. You’re that one over there.’ He followed her eyes off into the distance, where a solitary Friesian stood, his graceful silhouette black against the sun. ‘You’re lost,’ she said quietly.
‘So what do I do? How do I find my way?’
Why was he asking her? She didn’t know him. Knew nothing about where he’d come from.
‘You have to find a home. Not a house, a home. A place to belong. A place of love. And then you can start building a life – one that is for you, not anyone else. One that makes you whole. It’s not about career, or fame, or any of that other stuff. It’s about you. It’s your choices.’
He thought about what she said. What was it about her? What was it about this place? He wanted to hold this, grasp on to this moment of pure peace.
‘I met someone else like you once. A damaged soul.’ Her smile was wide, warm.
‘What happened to him?’
‘I married him,’ she said, her eyes full of love. ‘And he found a balance. Found a way to make his life work.’
He paused, thinking. He didn’t want this to end. This was what life was about. Peace. Quiet. The only other time he felt like this was when he was out in the middle of the ocean, nothing else for miles, just him and his board.
Now he’d found that on land. And he’d found someone who understood that. In his life, he didn’t think he’d met anyone with the peace and wisdom of Cara Callaghan.
‘I don’t want to leave here,’ he told her honestly.
‘I get that, but you have things to do, things that you need to fix. Running away won’t do it, but you don’t need me to tell you this. You don’t need me to fix you. You just need to find your way back.’
She leaned over, hugged him. ‘Come back anytime. Lex and I will always be here for you. When you’re ready to heal, we’re here.’
Jumping down, she squinted against the sun. ‘Slow and steady. Your friend over there needs that too. Slow and steady.’
She headed back inside. He wasn’t sure how much later it was when Hollie appeared from the same direction.
‘Thought I’d better come rescue you. You’ve been walking that horse round in circles for an hour,’ Hollie pointed out.
She looked less stressed up here too, even if she hadn’t quite got with the whole ‘at one with nature’ thing – as evidenced by the fact that she still had a cell phone in one hand and an iPad in the other. However, she’d made a concession to the casual environment by pulling her hair into a ponytail and donning a pair of denim cut-offs and a pale blue vest – not an outfit she’d generally wear in the city because, in her words, she was a curvy goddess in a sea of size zeros. Zander had no idea why she cared about that shit, but apparently she did.
‘Horse is lame. Cara said he needs gentle exercise. I’m kinda enjoying myself.’
‘So you don’t want to talk business?’ Hollie asked him.
‘Nope.’
‘Not even if I told you that the LA Headline have stalled the air stewardess story?’
Zander kept on walking, Hollie keeping pace with him on the other side of the fence. ‘How come?’
‘I think Lou pulled a couple of strings. The Headline belongs to the same publisher as the Hollywood Post. She just pointed out that she had it on impeccable authority that the story was false and that the Headline would lose credibility if they ran it and it was then disproved. Not that they had any credibility in the first place,’ she muttered, her disdain obvious.
‘Cool.’
‘Cool? Is that it? Zander, this buys time to find out what’s going on, and it stops your name from being trashed all over town.’
‘Cool.’
‘Aaaaaargh, you are the most annoying man I have ever met. Seriously. You know, you can be a complete dick. Complete. Matt Damon does not do this. If Matt Damon was the victim of a smear campaign, he’d fight back. Stand his ground.’
She’d slipped through a gap in the fence now and was walking in front of him, backwards, clearly determined to evoke a reaction.
‘And it’s not all about you, you know? I’ve pulled you out of gutters and strippers’ beds, I’ve bailed you out of jail, I’ve worked with you for ten years, and I’ve put up with an unholy amount of shit that would have driven a saint to suffocate you in your sleep. You’re a nightmare, Zander Leith. A frigging, full-scale, hot-mess, total nightmare.’ She stopped now, facing him defiantly, blocking his path. The horse looked relieved to be given a rest.
‘And if you’re not going to go to bat for yourself, I’ve no fricking idea why I’m bothering. Aaaargh! What? Why are you doing that?’ she demanded.
‘Doing what?’
‘Staring like—’
He stopped her when he leaned down, put his lips on hers, brought his free hand up to the side of her neck and kissed her.
And kissed her.
And kissed her.
Until she broke off, pushed him back. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t do that, Zander.’ Her voice wasn’t angry. It was something else. Something he wasn’t understanding. What just happened had taken him completely by surprise. It wasn’t planned. And hell, she wasn’t happy.
‘I’m not some chick for you to play with. If you’re going to be an asshole, go do that to someone else.’
She turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving him with a suffocating wave of that familiar feeling. The one he’d had many times before, right after he’d fucked up and right before he’d discovered the price he was going to pay for it.
49.
‘Run the World (Girls)’ – Beyoncé
Sarah
Sarah sat in one of the study areas, a gorgeous rustic room, with three overstuffed sofas set out round a huge brick fireplace. The walls were lined with old books, the floor made of stone, with a large rug in the centre.
It was cosy, comfortable, a perfect escape, but most importantly, it was the only room in the house with a TV. It was all very well this home-on-the-ranch stuff, but she still needed to work. This wasn’t an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Davie, Mirren and Zander could afford to take time out, rest up, but she still had rent to pay at the end of the month, and no, she wasn’t letting Davie cover it.
Thus, here she was, sitting in the study, her laptop connected to the TV screen in front of her so that she had a better view of the videos and images she needed to scrutinize as part of her research. Today, she was on the ‘Celebrity Feuds’ chapter. Chelsea Handler, Katy Perry, Mel Gibson and Miley Cyrus weren’t coming out of it well.
Footsteps interrupted her flow of thought. ‘Save me. Save me from these guys and horses,’ Hollie begged as she came into the room and flopped, lengthwise, on one of the couches, before putting a cushion over her face.
Sarah laughed and waited for the barrier to come back down. After a few seconds, Hollie removed it, but not before banging it off her head a few times.
‘Why? Why do we have these egotistical, famous, nightmare men in our lives? Why?’
Sarah shook her head, chuckling. ‘I fell in love with mine. I have no idea what your excuse is.’
‘I needed a job and I thought he was hot,’ came the reply. ‘What can I say? I was young, poor; I needed the money . . .’
The two of them were laughing now. Sarah had only met Hollie a couple of times before they’d come up here yesterday, but she could see now that they had a lot in common. Both organizers, both logical thinkers, both smart, both utterly infuriated by A-list stars who were a long way f
rom any of the above.
Her attention was broken by a new face at the door.
‘Do you mind if I join you?’ Lauren asked, her expression so warm and sweet that no one could possibly refuse. She came in and sat on the free sofa, directly across from Hollie.
‘Sorry,’ Hollie said. ‘I’m just having a moan.’
‘Ah, I like moans. What’s the subject?’
‘Having to deal on a daily basis with famous men.’
Lauren let out a delighted giggle. ‘Oh, I’m in on this one, sister. Where shall we start?’
Hollie knew that Lauren wasn’t aware of the situation with Marilyn, so she kept it general. ‘How about with the fact that they don’t take enough care of their own safety?’
‘Ah, that’s not just famous guys. My last boyfriend was a cop. Seriously intense guy – loved the whole danger stuff.’
‘Then you are clearly picking the wrong men,’ Sarah quipped. ‘Have you thought about dating a librarian?’
Lauren was about to answer when Hollie’s phone buzzed and she groaned when she checked the screen. ‘You have got to be shitting me.’
‘What’s up?’ Sarah asked.
‘It’s a Google alert. Apparently Adrianna Guilloti has just announced a new celebrity endorsement, Charles Power,’ she said, naming a famously handsome fifty-something actor who was still churning out great movies.
‘Isn’t that Zander’s role?’ Sarah asked. ‘So what, has he been cut?’
Hollie swung round to a sitting position and picked up her iPad, but Sarah’s fingers were already flying across her own keyboard.
‘There’s a video of the press conference on the Guilloti website,’ she said, as she clicked through to it and then pressed ‘play’.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Hollie exhaled, as Adrianna Guilloti stood on the steps outside her HQ on Fifth Avenue, her husband on one side of her, Charles Power on the other, a crowd of suits in the background.
Flashbulbs were going off as she stepped forward to the press podium that had been set up for the announcement.
Hollie, Sarah and Lauren watched, transfixed.