by Force, Marie
“I was asking Mrs. Godfrey.”
“What he said. How do you think I suddenly paid off thousands of dollars in loans when I recently lost my job?”
I bite my lip to hold back a smile.
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to Mr. Rogers?”
“More than six years. I never saw him again after he delivered the documents to the home where I was living.”
“Talk to him?”
“No. I had no need to. I hired him to do a job for me. He did it. I paid him. End of story. Until…”
“Until?”
“Until I appeared at the Golden Globes with Flynn, and David sold me out to the media.”
“And how do you know it was him?”
“He was the only one who knew me by both names.”
“You never told anyone else what your new name is? Not even the family you lived with?”
“No. I told no one. I’m still April to the family I lived with and the few other people who remained in my life after the attack.”
“In all the years after you changed your name, you never told anyone about your former name, your former life in Lincoln?”
“The point of changing my name was that I didn’t want anyone to know who I used to be. I never told anyone. I hadn’t even told Flynn the full story before it hit the news. He learned my birth name from reporters.”
“Where did you live while you were in college?”
Again she looks at me, as if to ask what the meaning of this is. I’m wondering the same thing.
“The first year, I lived in a dorm and then in an apartment the other three years.”
“Roommates?”
“A few. Here and there.”
“I assume you made some friends there, in classes, jobs, activities? Boyfriends?”
“What’re you getting at, Agent Vickers?” Emmett asks, saving me the trouble.
“Yes, I had some friends. People I did things with. But I didn’t date, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m just having a little trouble believing that in all that time, with all those people you came into contact with, lived with, did things with, you never told anyone about Stone or the trial or anything about your life before college. I have a daughter. She talks about everything.”
Her eyes flash with anger. “Was your daughter attacked and repeatedly raped by a man she trusted when she was fifteen? Did your best friend lure her to his home, hold her down, take her virginity, her innocence, and ruin her life? Did your daughter’s parents disown her when she refused to back down from bringing charges against your best friend and boss? If not, then you certainly have no place to judge me or the choices I made after I was attacked.”
I want to stand up and cheer. I’ve never been more proud of her or more impressed by her than I am in that moment.
“You went to college in the same state in which you helped to send the governor to jail. No one recognized you?”
“I’d changed my appearance by then. I’d changed my hair color from reddish brown to the current color, and until this week, I wore brown contacts that changed my eye color. I was also older by then, and I had matured in the years since the attack and trial. No one ever so much as suggested that I might be April Genovese. They were college kids. What did they care about the girl who brought down the governor? Most of them probably didn’t even know it had happened.”
“When you heard the media was reporting that Flynn Godfrey’s new girlfriend was the same girl who brought down the governor of Nebraska, what did you think?”
“I knew right away that David had cashed in on what he knew about me. It had to be him, because no one else knew.”
“Since the story went public, have you spoken to anyone you knew before in Lincoln?”
“Only my sisters, who I hadn’t spoken to since before the attack.”
“You didn’t speak to Rogers?”
“Why would I? Flynn’s lawyers were handling the situation with him. I had bigger concerns, including the loss of my job and livelihood. I had no desire to speak to the man who’d given me a new identity and then stolen it from me when it served his purposes.”
Both men look at my wife with admiration while my heart swells with love and respect. She’s magnificent.
“Have we answered all your questions?” I want him gone so I can be alone with her.
“For now. We’d like you to remain available while the investigation continues.”
“We’re going to London for about forty-eight hours this weekend for the British Academy Film Awards,” I say, “but we’ll be back in LA early next week.”
“We’d like to know what else is being done to find Rogers’s killer,” Emmett said. “Surely you have persons of interest by now other than my clients?”
“We’re investigating a number of promising leads. The information you provided today is very helpful.”
“It’s safe to assume, then, that my clients are not suspects?”
“Not yet. This is an ongoing investigation, and we reserve the right to question your clients again.”
“I’ll show you out,” Emmett says, tuning in to my need to have the agent gone.
The moment we’re alone in the kitchen, I reach for her. “You were fucking magnificent.” I realize she’s trembling, which infuriates me. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that again. I hope that’s the last time you ever have to talk about it.”
“I hope so, too.”
“We can skip the lunch today if you’re not up for it.”
“We’re not skipping it. You’re an Academy Award nominee, and we’re going to that luncheon.”
I raise her chin and kiss her. “So proud of you, sweetheart.”
She smiles weakly.
Emmett comes back. “That was awesome, Natalie. You handled him like a pro.”
“I just told the truth.”
“You did it brilliantly.”
“See?” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not the only one who thinks you’re fucking amazing.”
“Don’t forget I’ve had training on how to deal with hostile questions, cross-examination, the whole nine yards.”
“I’m so turned on right now.”
“And that’s my cue to get the hell out of the love nest,” Emmett says, laughing.
I get up to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming, man.”
“You got it. Any time.”
“We’ll see you at the office tomorrow and at the club on Friday.”
“Oh. Really?” He glances between Natalie and me.
“Really.”
“Well, okay. See you soon.”
“Keep me posted on anything you hear from the investigator.”
“I will.”
I see him out the door and return to the kitchen, where Natalie is staring out at the pool, lost in thought. Probably lost in torturous memories. If I could, I’d spend every dime I have to erase those memories for her.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that I’ve been forced to confront my past more in the last few weeks than I have in years.”
“It’s not lost on me that those are the same weeks you’ve known me.”
She takes my hand, brings it to her lips and looks at me with gorgeous green eyes. The color is still new to me, but the warmth, affection and love are familiar by now yet no less humbling than they were when I first knew her.
“Just when I think I can’t love you any more than I already do,” I tell her, “I find out there’s more, so much more.”
The chime sounds to indicate the front door is opening. “Is it safe to come in?” Addie calls.
“Everyone is dressed,” I say with a smile for Natalie.
Addie comes in, a tray of coffees in hand and a pile of mail that she places on the counter for me to go through when I have time. “Morning! How’d it go with the FBI?”
“Fine.” I take two of the coffees from her and hand one to Nat.
“Natalie ruined all his fun.”
“I would’ve liked to have seen that,” Addie says.
“It was quite a show.” Right then and there, an idea comes to me that takes my breath away because it’s that captivating.
“Flynn?” Natalie asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about something for work.”
“He does that,” Addie says with a smile for Nat. “Spaces out in the middle of conversations when he gets a big idea. What is it this time?”
“It’s…” I can’t say it out loud or even entertain the possibility without first speaking to Natalie. “It’s not ready for discussion yet. Early stages.”
The doorbell rings. “That’ll be Tenley,” Addie says of the stylist who has been dressing Natalie for award season. She goes to open the door.
“You’re sure you’re up for this today?” I ask her.
“I’m positive. I wouldn’t dream of missing a chance to celebrate my talented husband.”
* * *
Natalie enjoys the Oscar luncheon at the Beverly Hilton and the opportunity to meet more of my friends and colleagues, who are equally fascinated by her. I take a lot of razzing about giving up my bachelor status, about strapping on a “ball and chain” and all the usual bullshit guys say to each other. But my “ball and chain” is absolutely stunning in a midnight-blue dress that clings to all her sumptuous curves. I’m the envy of every straight guy in the room and a few of the women, too.
After a delicious meal of tasty fish, rice and vegetables, we sit through the comments offered by the Academy’s president as well as the producers of the show, who lecture us about keeping our acceptance speeches to forty-five seconds. I find that amusing. It takes months, sometimes years, to make a quality, award-worthy film, and winners are expected to boil down those years to forty-five seconds.
If I win, and I’m favored to after the run I’ve already had this award season, I suppose I can jam what I want to say into forty-five seconds.
I pose with the other nominees in this year’s class, and the picture probably starts hitting social media before we leave the room.
After the luncheon, Natalie and I return to a suite upstairs, where we’ll spend tonight after the Oscar Nominees Night party at Spago. I’m exhausted after the restless night without much sleep as well as the two glasses of Bowmore I had at the luncheon.
Natalie presents her back to me to unzip the dress. She’s got another dress, a black one this time, hanging in the closet for tonight. She made a joke on the way into town that God forbid she show her face in Hollywood wearing the same dress at two different events on the same day.
I kiss her shoulders and the side of her neck. “How’re you feeling?” I ask, really wanting to know if her period has arrived.
“I’ve still got cramps, but otherwise I’m fine. You?”
“Tired. I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Do we have time for a nap?”
“You’re reading my mind, sweetheart.” While I remove my suit, she goes around closing the blinds. It occurs to me that every other woman I’ve ever dated would want to spend this afternoon by the pool, using me and my celebrity to see and be seen. Natalie is proving once again that she is exactly perfect for me—and with me for all the right reasons.
We remove the rest of our clothes and crawl into bed together, coming together in a tangle of arms and legs. Though I’ve yet to make love to my gorgeous bride today, the need for sleep is trumping my need for sex. “I love being naked in bed with you, even if all we’re doing is sleeping.”
“Mmm, me, too. Before I met you I didn’t like being naked in the shower,” she says with a laugh that makes me laugh, too. “Now I feel like I spend half my life naked.”
“Want to go for three-quarters?”
She kisses me and runs her fingers through my hair. “Get some sleep while you can. It’s going to be another late night.”
I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of my love, and fall asleep, thinking about the special surprise I have for her tonight.
I’m putting on the jewelry Flynn gave me before the Golden Globes when he comes into the bedroom carrying a small gift bag.
“For you.” He holds out the bag, which I eye with trepidation.
“That had better not be anything sparkly.”
“It might be kinda sparkly.”
He is boyishly handsome in yet another well-cut suit that shows off his broad shoulders and trim waist. Looking at him is one of my favorite things to do. It doesn’t matter if he’s fresh out of bed or turned out for a night on the town, he’s always stunning.
I take the bag from him. “I reserve the right to return this if it’s too much.”
“Okay.”
I remove a small package wrapped in pink tissue paper, revealing a tiny piece of cloth. All I can see are the jewels encrusted on the fabric. “Those had better not be diamonds or anything in the diamond family.”
“They’re crystals. Hold it up.”
I remove the item from the paper, and that’s when I see it’s not jewelry. It’s lingerie. Very fancy panties. A thong, to be more specific. “It’s beautiful.”
“Will you wear it for me tonight?”
“Sure.” I’m eager to please him even if I’ve never been a big fan of thongs. “Where did you get it?”
“A high school friend of Ellie’s runs the most exclusive lingerie shop in Beverly Hills. That’s where I get everything.”
“And you trust her to keep your secrets?”
“Delany keeps everyone’s secrets, which is why her business is booming.”
“When did you go shopping?”
“I didn’t.”
“Let me guess—you made a phone call.”
“Yep, and this one didn’t involve Addie.”
“Thank God.”
“So you’ll wear that tonight?”
“Yes! Now go away and let me finish getting ready.”
“Yes, dear.” He kisses me and leaves the room, Fluff trailing behind him. They seem to have gotten past their spat, which is a relief. Flynn didn’t blink an eye when I brought her with me today. He certainly has people on his payroll who could take care of her for me, but I don’t want others caring for her. Not when I can do it.
I reach under my dress and remove my panties and step into the thong. The string settles between my cheeks, which I normally don’t like, but I suppose I’ll get used to it. I finish getting ready and load the clutch Tenley said would go perfectly with the black dress. I take my phone, tampons (just in case) and lipstick.
The cramps have continued unabated all day, but so far there’s been no sign of my period. Perhaps the birth control shot is throwing off my cycle. In the mail that Addie had delivered was a report on my test results, all of which were negative. I’m perfectly healthy, except for the cramps and an odd buzzing in my head that began during the luncheon. I send off a text to Doctor Breslow, asking if my period might be affected by the birth control shot.
She writes right back saying that it’s possible I won’t have periods at all during the next three months, which is good to know.
I thank her for the info and finish getting ready.
Tonight’s event is at Spago, and we’re driven to the iconic Beverly Hills restaurant by the security detail. Photographers pounce the second we emerge from the car, but Flynn keeps a protective arm around me. Cameras record every second of our walk into the restaurant.
Many of the same people who were at the luncheon are at this party, and we make the rounds. Flynn gets me a glass of chardonnay and the passed hors d’oeuvres are delicious. But the more I eat and drink, the queasier I become. I’m also overheating.
We’re talking to Flynn’s partners, Jasper and Kristian, and I’m about to ask him if we can find a place to sit when my panties begin to buzz. I manage to suppress a gasp, take hold of his arm and try to stay focused on the conversation despite the vibrator pressed tight against my clit. I’m going to
kill him for this.
“Are you okay, Natalie?” Jasper asks in a crisp British accent.
“I’m… It’s a little warm in here. Maybe we could sit?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Flynn guides me to a booth. When we’re seated, he leans in close to me. “Are you okay?”
“I feel weird—and not good weird.”
The buzzing stops immediately. “Define weird.”
“I don’t know. My head feels funny, I’ve had cramps all day, and now I feel sweaty, too.”
He leans in to kiss my forehead. “Holy crap, Nat. You’re burning up. Let’s get you out of here.”
“No! We don’t have to go. This is important to you.”
“The hell it is. We just had lunch with all these same people.”
“I don’t want to ruin your evening.”
“You’re not. I’m just sad it wasn’t the panties making you flush.” He smiles and winks and gets me out of there with the greatest of finesse. We leave through a different door than the one we came in and manage to escape the notice of the paparazzi on the way out, which is a relief. I can only imagine what they’d have to say about us leaving so soon after we arrived.
“Do you want to go home or back to the hotel?”
“We have to go to the hotel. Fluff is there.”
“I could have her brought home if you’d rather be there.”
“The hotel is fine.” I need a bed, and that one is closer. He holds me for the short ride back to the hotel. In the few minutes it takes to ride the elevator to our top-floor suite, I feel a hundred times worse. “Flynn…”
“What, honey?”
“I think I’m sick.”
“I’ll send for a doctor. Don’t worry about anything. It’s probably just a bug.”
“Don’t want you to get it.”
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I never get sick.”
In the bedroom, Flynn gets me undressed and removes the panties. “We’ll save these for another time,” he says, tucking them into his suit coat pocket. He helps me into a regular pair of panties and pulls a T-shirt of his over my head. “Lie back and rest. I’ll see if they can get us a doctor.”
“Sorry.”