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| STORIES FOR EVERYONE by joe |
| romantic comedies - thrillers - sci fi - kids - short reads - long reads - joefoolery |
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ONE COOL CHICK
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Can one woman take on the worst of Hollywood after finding her boss dead in bed and the killer blaming her? ONE COOL CHICK by Jo Rodriguez © 2024 Table of Contents The TextsGreat. Just great, Of course, you need to leave your cars at your girlfriend’s house, Jimmy. She turned back to the long and crowded driveway with a sigh, breathing in deeper, and counted the many garish and overpriced automobiles with all of the fingers on both of her hands before raising them with a brief flash of two middle fingers to rub her temples for at least ten seconds. I mean, it’s not like you don’t have any space at your Long Island Tudor mansion, your Long Beach ocean compound, the Colorado mountain castle or any of the other fifteen properties you own here and abroad, you, stupid, self-absorbed, tiny-dicked prick. She let out her breath, lowering her hands and the two middle fingers, and put on her practiced smile, raising her hands in the air and then to the back of her head to arrange her long and thick dark black hair into a loose ponytail that framed her face and draped down her neck. She took another breath and hit the garage remote control on her dashboard to stare and then scowl at the very bright and gleaming yellow striped racing car so out of place in the regular spot where she parked her car every weekday and too many weekends for the last few years. Shocking. She grumbled again, half laughing at the sight, and face planted before beginning to back up to the end of the long line of too many fancy automobiles in the driveway where she parked her own car and counted to ten slowly and silently to herself. Could be a rough day. She nodded again to herself and actively relaxed her shoulders into her broken in and soft, black, lamb skin leather jacket that fit her shoulders and chest to a tee. She pushed back the darker and scuffed up designer sunglasses onto the top of her forehead and picked back up her phone from the passenger seat with a nod and a smile before opening it up to her many text messages from too many people that she didn’t want to hear from today or any other day. She scrolled up to and read the latest text again, easing back into the driver’s seat, and smiled a relaxed and real smile up to her big eyes this time before scrolling back up to the very beginning of the very long conversation and started reading again. Or maybe just the best day in too long a time. May 9, 20## Alejandra Jane: I know you’ve missed the last three birthdays, not to mention a Christmas or two and that one Thanksgiving, but you could’ve at least taken the time and called for a two minute conversation since you promised your ten-year-old nephew who loves you very much that you’d be here. Matt just kept watching the door all day and doesn’t understand, can’t understand, why you weren’t there and suck so much. Text Message 10:57 am Texting is not for emotionally devastating statements that make my stomach drop like when Mom told us she had cancer the first time, Alex. Jen thought, giving the phone a frown and a shake, and reread the message through a long, deep breath before letting it out slowly, and pushed a few dozen stray hairs off her face and into the loose ponytail. It’s for quick short messages that are direct, to the point, and don’t hurt people’s feelings too much or at all. ME: It’s called work, Alex, and don’t tell me he hasn’t figured it out with Eric getting so much overtime to pay for that second car, okay? I’m sorry. I am, but my job is my job, and it’s mostly 24/7. You know that. You used to work, remember? Text Message 10:59 am Okay, so I’m a little hypocritical. She shrugged at the phone, glancing up at a bird landing on the big house to notice that almost all of it was mostly in place except for about half of the roof tiles, and frowned. Or a lot. She turned back to the text chain. Still. Alejandra Jane: That’s cute, and you used to be part of the family. The one that includes me, your brother in law, Lily and Matt and Mom and Dad. Remember that? Mom wants to talk to you in person more than once every six months. Not by text, not by email and not by phone. So, get it together and go actually see her for once. Okay? They live in the same apartment where we grew up. Remember? Text Message 11:00 am Sure. Jen frowned at her phone again, closing her eyes for ten seconds, and breathed in and out more for another ten. Right. ME: I’m glad to see you’re talking to Mom again. She wondered about that last month in an hour long video call I had with her. And it’s not like you don’t have a little free time, as you know, a stay at home mom. Text Message 11:03 am Great. Jen kept reading but threw up her hand as her mouth twisted down again. Why did I write that? She pushed the same stray hairs out of her face again. That’s part of my permanent record now. Alejandra Jane: I’m taking care of my kids, Jen. Your niece and nephew, Lily and Matt. Remember them? Something you might understand one day in the future. Far into the future. Text Message 11:03 am ME: Real nice. But again, I work 24/7, Alex. Like a ton of people in this city. And something you used to understand, detective. Text Message 11:06 Subtle, so nice and just the way to diffuse an argument or lighten the tone of the conversation. She turned to look at herself in the rear view mirror, noted her own twisted expression, and frowned all the way before turning back to the phone. I’m sure she appreciated that. Alejandra Jane: And family is something you used to understand. Remember? And you know I’d be working if Matt wasn’t ASD. Text Message 11:07 am Yeah, great stuff, just perfect. Jen closed her eyes again, but this time just for a second, and then looked at the mirror again to frown more at herself. Wonderful. Just super duper. ME: You worked until he went to school full time?!? WTF. Mom wants to help, and she could take care of Matt and Lily. But she hasn’t told you that because you talk to her even less than I do. Text Message 11:11 am Alejandra Jane: You really think Mom’s up for that? She’s had cancer. Twice. And she and Dad worry everyday it’s going to come back again. Text Message 11:11 am Yeah, Alex. I remember that our mom had cancer. Jen’s eyes narrowed on the text, her grip tightening on the phone, and she shook it high and low in the air. It was a great three years for all of us. And something I only wish I could forget. ME: And she got better, Alex, and Dad would help too. He’s not useless… Remember that he raised us? Text Message 11:13 am Alejandra Jane: Don’t get me started on Dad. And I wouldn’t call our childhood something Dad was really part of. Okay? Plus, I want to take care of my own kids. That’s kind of why I had them in the first place. Text Message 11:13 am ME: That’s great and you’re lucky you can, but that doesn’t mean everyone can afford to, and that I can just drop everything for a ten year old’s birthday party filled with thirty other people I barely know. Text Message 11:20 am Alejandra Jane: You didn’t even get Matt a present, Jen. Did you even think of getting him one? Or even remember that he invited you to his 10th birthday party himself, and that he certainly cares about the other TWENTY people who sang him Happy Birthday while you were at work? Text Message 11:21 am ME: Real nice, and yes, I did get him a present. It’s sitting wrapped in the backseat of my car. Text Message 11:29 am Still is. Jen kept frowning and turned to the backseat with the gift wrapped football still there on the floor, half under a large blue and white gym bag filled with a day’s worth of spare clothes, an extra purse with backup ID and money in it and emergency supplies that included a flashlight, batteries, charger cords and a first aid kit. She shook her head at all of it, pushing aside the gym bag to point her phone at the wrapped up football and took a picture of just it. Right where it’s been for too many months. Alejandra Jane: It’s been three weeks. Matt’s almost 1o years and one month old. You’ve never heard of mail. They have these offices everywhere that allow anyone, even you, to ship packages to anyone else, including your nephew. Text Message 11:30 am Who the hell uses snail mail? Jen rolled her eyes, looking at the photo of the wrapped football, but didn’t share it with her sister. After buying it at an actual store. ME: I’ve had to work, and my job doesn’t take me to the post office, okay? You know? Because it’s like the 21st century. 11:41 am Alejandra Jane: Of course, you did. You always do. That’s your excuse for everything, Jen, but you used to be better than that. You’re smart, a hard worker and I thought you’d almost stopped making bad decisions. Text Message 11:41 am ME: Great. Spectacular. So happy to hear. Thanks. Text Message 11:45 am It’s so fun to be told of my personal faults and have it here forever to see again and again. Jen reread the last two messages twice, with her whole face twisting up and down and back again into a deep frown, and then closed her eyes to avoid reading them for a third time. So, fun. Alejandra Jane: You’re almost 30. And if I remember right, you knew where the post office was twenty years ago. No? Text Message 11:45 am ME: You really want to keep doing this by text? WTF. So, every time we look at our phones we can relive this bitchiness for the rest of our lives? Text Message 11:45 am I probably should have said that earlier. Jen nodded. Like a lot earlier. She looked past her phone and back at the big house for a second, and then noted the actual time. Much earlier. Alejandra Jane: No. I really want you to come over, have dinner, eat the piece of cake Matt insisted we save you in the refrigerator and then watch him open the present you got him. It’ll probably taste terrible at this point, but he’ll appreciate the present because it’s from you. Text Message 11:46 am ME: Okay. Well, thanks for talking to me like I’m twelve again and trying to figure out how to use a tampon so I can go swimming at Teddy’s uncle’s above ground pool. Remember? Much appreciated. Glad you’re not using all of your time and energy to mother your kids with all of that staying at home with them. Or you know make Eric a decent meal when he gets home from all of that overtime. Text Message 11:49 am Alejandra Jane: FU Text Message 11:49 ME: FU right back. Text Message 11:50 Yeah, that was smart. Like super smart. Jesus. Jen looked past the phone again, rolling her eyes at it, her sister and herself before turning back to reread the last text. Curse at someone via text. She raised the phone high and low but shook just her head. Where it can be saved and viewed forever and see how it stops a conversation cold. May 12, 20## ME: I’m sorry, Alex. I was a jerk. A huge one. And I know it. And I apologize and I’ll try to do better in the future. I promise. Text Message 10:45 am Oh, the joys of groveling. It’s so damn fun. She stared at her words, half frowning, and threw up her hand. Because it never just stops at one text. ME: Seriously, I’m really, really sorry. I said something stupid, again, and let my temper get the best of me in the heat of the moment. Like I was 12 again. Totally my bad. Totally. Text Message 10:51 am See? She reread the last text, shaking her head, and half laughed at herself. Which one of us is being the mature one here? ME: Please let me know how you’re doing? Anything. Grocery shopping? Cleaning the kitchen? Visiting mom and Dad? Taking Matt to school? Please. Please. Please. I want to know, and no detail is too small. Text Message 10:52 am Yeah, I think we now know the answer to the maturity question. Jen shook her head yet again, breathing in, and sighed. And it doesn’t always go to the oldest. ME: Come on, Alex. Please!!! Text Message 10:53 am Now this is what texting is for. Thankfully. She nodded, holding up the phone higher with half a smile and bigger eyes, and let out another, quicker laugh. Begging and apologizing so you don’t have to do it in person. Which is the worst, no matter what Father Enrique said fifteen years ago. Alejandra Jane: _____________ Text Message 10:53 am And the slam dunk of silence. She shook the phone high and low in the air in front of her face this time, laughing louder, and then looked at it again. Absolute quiet is the best. ME: Thanks… Great… Glad I tried… See you at Thanksgiving… Or Christmas… Maybe. Text Message 10:54 am “Three weeks of silence?” Jen said, raising her hand at the phone, and flashed three fingers at it, lowering them one at a time with the middle finger going last. “Three weeks, Alex?” June 1, 20## ME: Hey, I hope you, Eric and the kids are well. Mom told me they were. Life is good. Working a lot still, obviously, but it’s paying off. Caitlyn’s looking to get the film deal she wants, and I am looking to get out of the personal assistant thing and into production. Hopefully. Text Message 10:51 am And so, my groveling begins again. Just like last year and the year before. She looked at herself again in the rearview mirror, sticking out her tongue at herself, and shrugged. And yet I’m the younger, unmarried one without kids or a typical, stand up 9-5 job. ME: It’s the first one since she got sober two years ago, and probably means I’ll get a much deserved raise. And producers are also starting to know my name. I think. I hope. It’s why I’m working so much. Sorry, but it’s part of my bigger career plan that I think I mentioned once or twice or seventeen times. Text Message 10:51 am So, if I’m working you can spare a couple of minutes to type into your phone. Jen nodded big, raising her free hand, and then showed off first her middle finger and then the rest of her fingers in front of the phone. Particularly, since you told me that very thing more than once in the last six months or year. June 2, 20## ME: How are you? I finally went on a second date with Tyler and kissed him. Just a little tongue and I mean like only for about a half a second. He seemed scared. Great huh? Good times. Yay. Text Message 10:45 am Guess I thought I’d try adolescent gossip to match her immature behavior. Jen chuckled with another roll of her eyes and read the words yet again. Again, back to what texting is all about. June 3, 20## ME: Isn’t today your twelve-and-a-half-year anniversary? Happy, happy. In other good news I’m not pregnant, not that I need worry like you did every other month from 15 to 18. Remember? Maybe not? Okay, that’s only what I told some people. But I’m not. J Text Message 10:57 am And now teeing back up to nearly an adult level. Jen nodded and then made another face at herself in the mirror. Sort of. June 7, 20## ME: Hey, Mom, Dad and I missed you for dinner last night, although understood you had a last minute thing involving Lily. They want us to have Thanksgiving together so they can go on a cruise or something on Christmas. What do you think? Text Message 10:51 am ME: They know that you visit Eric’s family in Austin then, but maybe can switch with X-Mas as I’m scheduled to go with Caitlyn for a work thing in late December. Also, they want to see their grandkids. Because Matt and Lily are the best. Right? Text Message 10:52 am ME: Also, I’d like to see the kids. I’ve got a collection of presents for them. I can drop them off at your house when you’re not there if that’s easier. Tell me what’s best for you, and I’m there, but probably not for long due to the job. Like I said before. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Text Message 10:52 am Adultish behavior and bribes. Jen looked back past the backseat and at the unseen trunk of her car. Wish I had taken a picture of those wrapped presents when I wrote this. June 8, 20## ME: I know I should be a better younger sister, Alex. I do, and I’m sorry. I said something stupid to you, and I was wrong. I get it. Still, it’s been almost a month and now you’re just being a bitch. Can you knock it off already and maybe give your little sister a break? What do you say, Detective? Text Message 7:32 am Finally, the well timed breakthrough of being direct, apologizing and mostly sounding mature. Jen nodded again at the phone with the hint of an even more relaxed smile. Oh, yeah, and calling her a bitch. Alejandra Jane: Can you watch your language, please? I have kids around, remember? Part of being a stay at home mom. Text Message 7:53 am Jen smiled bigger than ever at that last text for the third time that morning and this time nodded big. Great. So, you know you’re a bitch too, she thought and got out of her car, looking again at the big Spanish style house and its brown landscape, and half frowned at the need for a new roof, more paint and too many garish automobiles. “Too bad I have to go to work.” She pocketed her phone, locking the car door behind her, and palmed half a cup of coffee, still steaming from the cup holder before starting forward. “Fun times ahead.” The RiffraffJen took two quick steps forward away from her car and then stutter stopped on the cobblestone driveway at a slight whiff in the air. She turned one step back onto the parched grass, standing up straighter and twisted her nose in the wind to catch the faint scent of something sickly sweet and artificially spicy in the slightest of breezes before stopping completely in her tracks and closing her eyes. She then got on her tiptoes as high as she could go and sniffed the air all around her with three deep breaths in and out before resting back on her heels and opening up her eyes to take in the world around her. She looked past the large brown and patchy lawn at the big Spanish style house and turned to see the still wide open front iron gate behind her and then the edge of the long, thick but uneven scrappy hedge and the random and thicker fancy bushes that surrounded the entire front half of the one and a half acre property. She let out her breath and sniffed again with narrowing eyes. She searched for anything unusual and then she scanned the entire front lawn very slowly until she squinted and shook her head at the short and balding fat man looking past her. He wore stylish thick black framed glasses and was dressed in a long olive green overcoat half hiding behind one of the healthier but newer and thinner bushes. She sighed. “Of course.” She stopped sniffing the air, squaring off her shoulders and began tapping her foot on the lawn with an eye right on the man. He didn’t move a muscle and kept looking anywhere but at her. So, she shrugged, raising her right hand high, and waved right to him with a squinty look. “Jake, you know I can see you, right?” She pointed two fingers right at him and made a face. “Anybody could see you.” She half frowned, throwing up her other hand at him, and closed her eyes for a second. “The blind could see…” “Okay, you got me.” The short and balding fat man half smiled at her then, now waving back to her with brown branches in both of his hands and stepped out from behind the new but still too thin bush that didn’t hide him and his large and wide presence at all. “I thought the new coat would blend better.” He shrugged big and pointed to its olive green color that did almost match the bush with a quick spin and flourish to show off the fine stitching and detailing that went up both sides of it. “It’s green.” “I noticed.” Jen rolled her eyes with half a laugh, looking past the coat, and right into his reddish dull brown eyes. “And I swore I told you to go away.” She pointed him to the gate, waving both hands in one extra big motion toward it and the street, and thought, Meaning I know I told you to go away and never come back. She stifled a frown and nodded. Ever again. Multiple times. On multiple days. And I think now into multiple years. “Everybody’s got to make a living, Jenny.” Jake shrugged big again, waving her away with both of the branches still in his big hands and with a bigger smile, and then dropped the smaller branch onto the lawn and threw his now free hand up in the air and in her direction. “You know that, right?” He pointed to himself with the other branch, looking right into her big, bright brown eyes with a wink, and showed off the coat to her again. “Coats and the rest of my stylish wardrobe cost money.” “Yeah, but you still look like crap on a cracker.” Jen gestured to his frayed and faded baseball cap with an old San Diego Padres logo on it that didn’t cover up enough of his bald spot, the holey and faded black T-shirt with the band Rush on it that didn’t quite cover his big belly and a pair of too faded jeans that emphasized the skinniness of his legs too much. “And you know that, this city is all about image.” “Thanks.” He dropped the second branch on the brown lawn with a chuckle, pulling out the giant and gleaming hidden black and chrome high grade Japanese camera that had a six inch wide and two foot long telephoto lens that was slung around his left shoulder and under the coat, and he pointed it like a sniper rifle at the big house to get in a quick shot of the second floor’s large front heavily curtained windows. “I think I heard that one before.” “You’re welcome, and I’m sure.” She looked him up and down again, half frowning and shaking her head, and raised a finger in his general direction. “You know you’ve got rings under your eyes, need a whole new wardrobe and should stop eating at Here N There all the time, right?” She looked away with a twisted face, pointing down to the half open fly on his too tight jeans and then to a used burger wrapper half hanging out of his coat pocket. She half frowned at what looked like more than a few drops of wiped off ketchup and garlic salt dust scattered over his new and what appeared to be personalized leather Chuck Converse sneakers. “Is this the life you expected when you were in college?” “I didn’t really like college that much.” He looked away, grimacing south toward San Diego, and stepped back from her with another big shrug. He stomped the dust off his feet, shoving the used burger wrapper the rest of the way into his coat pocket, and zipped up his jeans almost all the way and as far up as they could go. “But I’ve got an incredibly hot and generous wife at our very large home who does hot yoga seven days a week and twice on Sunday and who doesn’t care if I’m up with the sun and eating Here and There to make a whole lot of money taking photos of former starlets who haven’t worked on a real movie in three years.” He threw her a look with a raised eyebrow, grinning from ear to ear, and gave her a giant nod. “It’s my job.” He looked past her again, readjusting his frayed and faded Padres’ cap, and licked his lips. “And Melinda is like super-hot, incredibly adventurous and ridiculously benda...” “Yeah, Jake, you’re a real catch.” Jen raised a hand high between them and took another step forward, pointing another finger to the gate, and shooed him with both hands and a noticeable look toward the street on the other side of the gate and hedge. “I know Caitlyn really appreciates you and all you’ve done for her in the last few years, and I mean that so much.” “Right.” Jake scoffed and raised his own hand at her, backing up while still holding onto a few inches of his ground, and turned with another nod to the big house. “She didn’t mind me for one second when she was branching out.” “Funny and sort of true.” Jen half shrugged but nodded, still moving them both forward inch by inch and off the lawn onto the cobblestone driveway where she began to move them forward faster. “But she had Mickey as a publicist back then.” “The mouse was part of Caitlyn’s problem.” He looked up from the driveway and right into her eyes, flashing a smile, and failed to stop their continuing march toward the gate and the street. “That’s why she liked me so much back then.” “Because you’re such a force for good and truth in the world, huh?” Jen scoffed now, almost laughing, and shook her head. “A regular knight in shining armor?” “Nobody would say that. Not even Melinda. But I can get a billion eyes on people with the right photo at the right moment, and your boss and you both know that, and she definitely took advantage of that even before you started working for her.” Jake shrugged big right at her yet again, still letting her guide him forward slowly as they followed the cobblestone driveway to the gate for the faraway street and his illegally parked SUV half a block away. “We’re all just cogs in the great Hollywood machine that entertains this city, this nation and the entire world, Jenny.” He smiled big, nodding bigger, and let out a loud laugh. “Hell, whether we’re cleaning up the A-listers puke and dirty underwear.” He gestured big to her with a snap of his fingers, half pointing his sniper rifle like camera back in the direction of the big house and pushed a button for a series of likely useless shots. “Or catching the times and moments that define their and our lives in this crazy, Hollywood made world.” “Define their and our lives, Jake?” She scoffed again, making a twisted face, but stopped in her tracks, turning to look him right in the eye for a second before pointing again to his overall shabby appearance under the new green overcoat and his ridiculously expensive and impressive looking camera. “Is that what you think you actually do?” She chuckled and just stared at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?” “Hey.” He shrugged but also nodded. “It pays the bills and keeps the wife and kids happy even when I’m not home, Jenny.” He grunted, looking back at her with half a smile, and pulled his camera and its huge telescopic lens all the way up so that it was perpendicular to his shoulder, snapping a series of out of focus photos of her, and let out a laugh while catching his breath. “I’d say we both get our hands dirty, no?” Jen let out her own louder laugh, smiling her practiced smile that had just the right amount of teeth at just the right angle and with a certain shine in her eyes, and then handed him the cup of coffee she that she had half hidden in her hand but had not touched since leaving the cool comfort of her newish car. “It’s got three sugars, and I know you only like milk.” She nodded to his wide waist up to his double chin, shaking her head at all of him, but gave him a shrug. “Still…” “Yes, I’m diabetic.” He took the cup from her with his free hand, holding it two inches in front of him to savor the smell of milk, sugar and the high quality coffee with a giant nod, and then swallowed almost all of it in one quick, loud and large gulp. He laughed and held onto the cup. “Thanks for remembering I’m not supposed to have sugar.” “You could have said, ‘no’.” She shook her head at the loud and giant swallow, taking him all the way in from head to toe, trying not to stare at the growing dribble of her wasted delicious coffee on his chins, and looked him again in the eye. “I wouldn’t have been offended.” “Have we met before?” Jake winked and shook his head with half a frown, rolling his own eyes with another giant, loud gulp of coffee and let out a big belly laugh before holding up the now empty cup for her to take back. “Thanks.” He turned his head, burping louder, and then shrugged and smiled. “I’ll definitely enjoy the rush.” He nodded to himself and then shook his head at her. “I’ve been waiting here since before the sun came up.” “Great. I’m so happy to hear that you have such an amazing work ethic.” Jen ignored the empty cup still in his hand, turning to look up and down the quiet street through the gate and not seeing anyone else with a camera, and then turned back to look right at him again. “Look, nothing’s going on today anyway, okay, Jake?” She shrugged with a quick nod, pointing behind her to the big house and trying and failing to ignore the line of shiny, garish and ridiculous automobiles leading up to it and the garage before nodding bigger. She took in a deep breath and leaned in closer. “Caitlyn’s staying in all week, prepping for a new movie and getting even more in shape than she already is.” “Right.” He ignored Jen’s sudden closeness, stifling a face, and looked over her head at the big house with a nod to the line of many one of a kind collector’s cars. Then he squinted at the front bedroom on the second floor for a second and shook his head more than he had before. “She hasn’t been in anything in three years, Jenny. Three long years, and now she’s got a movie deal?” He turned back and gave her a twisted look, chuckling, and half pointed his camera at the cobblestone driveway snapping a dozen pictures of the various automobiles. “Come on.” He half threw up his hand with the coffee cup, chuckling more, and met her eye. “That’s not how it works.” He shook his head. “Not in this town anyway.” “Right.” She ignored his look and waving hand, making half a face, and stretched her own arm out to stick her hand in front of the camera’s telephoto lens. “Like you know.” “I do.” He frowned at her blocking his shot, turning back the camera to the big house, but gave her a look. “I definitely do.” He nodded big. “I’ve been doing this for fifteen years, kid, and have read the trades since I failed my first film class in college.” “And you’ve always been so charming, Jake.” She sighed, ignoring another one of his many shifting looks at her, and pointed down to the large but empty coffee cup still in his hand. “You know, you can catch more flies with honey than…” “Thanks.” He held out the cup to her again, giving her a big smile with his eyes, and shrugged with the giant camera still half pointed at the second floor bedroom. “But if she’s off building muscle, toning up or whatever.” He rolled his eyes to the big house and then her. “Why are you here so early?” “Come on. You work in Hollywood.” She pointed to the big house too, with its need for a new roof and two coats of paint, and then did a slow spin to include the brown lawn, the ragged hedge and newer but smaller bushes around them. “A personal assistant’s work is never done.” She looked back at him. “You know that.” “I do.” He gave the big house, brown lawn and her a once over, grinning more, and nodded to the long line of exotic automobiles in the driveway. “And you wouldn’t say those cars.” He pointed the coffee cup at them. “The purple Mercedes, the teal Maserati and the canary ’68 Cadillac belong to one Jimmy Roberts, boy actor turned teen rogue, turned into a massive, essentially criminal level asshole?” “I wouldn’t.” Jen shook her head with a mostly straight face, catching her breath in the back of her throat, and looked past the coffee cup and the automobiles with the merest of shrugs. “No, I wouldn’t say that at...” “Right.” Jake gave her another, narrow eyed look, watching her hold onto her still mostly straight face, and shook his head with a chuckle. “Because that would violate whatever crazy non-disclosure agreement Caitlyn, ‘Cake’ Kelly made you legally sign when she hired you to pick her up, clean her up and make sure she at least appears to be living a better, more wholesome life, wouldn’t it, Jenny?” She turned away from the big house, straightening her shoulders, and looked right back into his eyes before putting on the practiced smile with the slightest hint of a shrug. “That question cut a little too close to home, Jenny?” He nodded very big, leaning in closer to her, just inches from her face now, but lowered the camera and smiled big. “Way to close?” “I hope you liked half of my morning coffee, Jake.” She shrugged him off, still smiling that practiced smile, and pointed again to the empty cup in his hand while looking past him and the big house before throwing up a hand. “I saw that you used that tip about Angelina that I gave you last week.” “That’s one I owe you.” He half held up his index finger of the hand with the coffee cup, trying and failing to get back her attention, and sighed big. “I’m not going to deny it.” “You shouldn’t.” She turned back to him now straight on. “Why would you?” “Yeah.” He lost his smile, half swallowing, and looked at the big house too. “I wasn’t.” “And you owe me nine, Jake.” Jen held up both hands, holding up all but one of her fingers, and still couldn’t get back his attention. “Nine.” She breathed deep, taking the empty coffee cup from him, and raised her other hand high to point him down the rest of the driveway, through the gate and toward his illegally parked SUV halfway down the block. “And please try not to leave any more trash on the way out this time.” “Right.” Jake nodded and started forward to the gate and the street beyond it, noticing an empty but greasy cardboard container for French fries on the edge of the property, and stopped near the gate. He picked up the container, pocketing it with the hamburger wrapper that had been in his coat pocket the whole time, and glanced back at her with a wink and a shrug. “Although it’s just the nature of the job.” He half met her eye. “You know that?” “Yes, I put that together.” Jen gave him a curt nod, catching up to him to take the empty French fry container and hamburger wrapper, and handed him a clean paper napkin from the inside pocket of her leather jacket. “But I feel like we’ve been having a lot of these conversations lately.” “Then maybe you can tell me about that movie, huh?” He wiped a hint of ketchup and mayonnaise from his face and shirt with the napkin, nodding to the line of shiny, garish and ridiculous automobiles in the driveway leading to the big house and garage, and put the now dirty napkin in the empty coffee cup she was holding. “And I’ll ignore the obvious Jimmy situation.” “Trust me. You’ll learn about it soon enough.” Jen placed the fries’ container on top of the napkin in the larger coffee cup and wagged a finger at him. “But nothing’s happening today, okay?” She nodded yet again and crushed the garbage into the cup. “I promise.” She pointed up to the second floor bedroom. “Everybody’s probably still in bed.” “At 8:00 on a Monday morning?” Jake made a face, but smiled more, and his eyes followed her as she started back up the cobblestone driveway and to the big house. “Jimmy’s probably not even asleep yet.” “Okay.” Jen kept walking, giving a quick wave back to him, and kept her eyes in front of her. “But that doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t working.” “Too true.” He stared at her butt and laughed, watching her walk for another few seconds, and then looked up to squint at the second floor of the big house. “I was just hoping that Caitlyn was going to start running in the mornings again.” He moved his arms like he was running but kept his legs right where they were. “You know?” “We have our own gym, Jake, and Caitlyn’s rowing a lot now, working the core.” She looked over her shoulder, pointing him to the gate with a bobbing finger, and nodded to his obvious gut. “Something you should be doing, no?” “I don’t disagree.” He rubbed his large belly, finding a grin, and shrugged one more time. “My wife’s still hot, flexible and super bendable, though.” “What can’t money and hot yoga do, huh?” She stopped halfway down the driveway, frowning at a pink Maserati, and turned all the way around to face him with half a grin. “Right?” “You know, Jenny.” Jake took in her half a grin, looking down at his own shabby clothes under the brand new and stylish green coat, and then glanced up at her with a big smile and a bigger nod. “You’re smarter than you look.” “Great. Thanks. Jake.” Jen shook her head at him twice with half a laugh, finding her practiced smile again, and pointed him yet again to the gate, the quiet street and his illegally parked SUV. “But why don’t you go home, get some sleep and be grateful for what you have for once, huh?” She used her free hand to push the same stray hairs out of her face, still keeping her eyes on him, and gestured again to the meter maid now walking toward his SUV and pulling out a citation book. “Say ‘hi’ to your kids when they get home from school for once.” She nodded big with the other half of the laugh, giving him one last look, and shook her head. “They’ll appreciate it, I’m sure.” “Real nice, Jenny.” Jake saw but ignored the meter maid, keeping his eyes on her, and grinned again. “I hope you don’t talk to your family like that.” “I’m trying, okay?” Jen flashed him a familiar message on her phone, turning away from him, and started once more for the big house. “But it’s not in my job description, and I’ve been busy too.” “Right.” He reached into his pocket for his keys, still ignoring the meter maid approaching his SUV, and chuckled. “Date, I hope?” “Sure.” She grinned so he could see it, half shrugging, and pretended to yawn with another look at him. “Not that it’s any of your business.” “True.” He smiled, lowering his camera under the jacket on his left side, and gave her a thumb’s up. “Fun, though?” “I think so.” She stared into space for a second, half nodding and shrugging, and then threw up a hand. “He’s not married, paid for dinner and I guess he might be funny.” “Okay.” He laughed again, throwing up a hand back, and turned all the way to his SUV. “I’ll believe you.” “You should.” She held up the coffee cup with the napkin and empty fries’ container to him, shaking it in the air for a second, and then crushed it into the palm of her hand. “I gave you coffee, remember?” She made a face and shook her head. “My coffee. Good, expensive coffee, that’s not from Star...” “Too true.” He nodded, chuckling this time to himself, and held out a finger to the meter maid who started writing up a parking ticket for his illegally parked SUV. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” She looked back to see him now almost running to his SUV and the meter maid. “And have a good day.” She sighed. You sleazy, skeevy, bottom feeding turd who should get a real job. The Nitty Gritty“Okay, okay, okay. First problem down, and probably a hundred to go.” Jen almost laughed to herself and made sure Jake’s now ticketed and new but big and dull silver suburban dad SUV disappeared down the quiet and pristine palm tree lined street. She then turned to the long line of Jimmy’s expensive midlife crisis collector’s automobiles that clogged up the long cobblestone driveway and the small garage and took in a deep breath. She sighed, picking up the daily local, New York and Caitlyn’s hometown Des Moines newspapers off the edge of the front walk that only she read, and started moving faster. “Like anyone really cares about what the supposed cultural capitals or the heartland think.” She rolled her eyes, putting them under arm, and grabbed the farm fresh and semi-legal unpasteurized glass bottle of whole milk on the tiny side porch. “Or about milk right from the cow that goes bad almost the second after you open it.” She shook her head, turning back to her bright and shiny Volkswagen at the end of that line of otherwise shinier, garish and ridiculous automobiles, and smiled with big eyes. “Remember that you paid cash for that with all the bells and whistles salesman Pete thought he was tricking you into getting.” She pointed her index finger to the west, adjusted it a little to the north and zeroed on her own faraway neighborhood a few miles away. “And own a fifty two year old two-bedroom home in an up and coming area with artists and gay families where the crime rate is dropping, and property values are rising.” She turned mostly south, half swallowing with a shrug, and nodded big to herself and her parents’ apartment ten miles away. “And helped pay for Mom’s last surgery before going on an actual vacation alone to London and Paris for two weeks last year.” She laughed and shook her head at herself. “Okay, enough ego boost.” She dropped half her smile and waved quick with the tips of her fingers to each of the three obviously placed white security cameras and didn’t to the two new hidden camouflaged security cameras on this side of the big house following her every move. Then she looked into an obvious one and pointed with the milk bottle and newspapers to where Jake dropped his branches of camouflage. “I just took care of Jake Cooke, the annoying paparazzo, folks.” She shook her head at the obvious cameras, half throwing up her hands at them and almost dropped the bottle of milk and the newspapers before pointing to the front iron gate with a frown. “So, I don’t want to see another paparazzo, stalker or any old fashioned fan on the property again. Ever. Or we’re getting another service. Like tomorrow.” She turned right to and nodded big at the closest hidden camera. “And I don’t care if your head consultant bought me dinner and a glass of almost decent wine last night.” She made a face, frowning big, and wagged the bottle of milk at whoever might be watching on the other side of the camera. “Understand?” She waited half a second, staring at the hidden camera as nothing happened and hit the gate remote, watching it close too slowly, and not quite all the way, but with nobody sneaking through, and punched the fifteen digit security code into the mini keyboard on the small side porch when she heard a bark. She smiled and turned to the medium sized brown and white mutt barking with its giant eyes and open mouth pushing the almost heavy side door all the way open with just the top of its nose, tiny head and a pattering of paws. “That’s right, Sam.” She grabbed the now jumping and thrashing dog with his wagging tail hitting her legs in a one handed hug, scratching behind his ears for ten seconds, and let out an even bigger smile that went all the way up to her eyes and back. “You’ll keep us safe from all the terrible press, won’t you?” Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Sam gushed dog joy and a whole lot of slobber all over her left hand and the arm of her leather coat and collapsed to the tiled floor where she put down the bottle of milk, dropped the three newspapers and took his face in a caress with both of her hands. She petted down his head and back for another ten seconds and gave his tail a tweak. “I know. I know.” She laughed, steadying the milk bottle that almost fell over, and picked it back up along with the newspapers. “We haven’t seen each other in a whole ten hours.” She smiled even bigger at him, leading them up three steps into the big house, and closed and locked the side door behind her in two quick motions as she kept moving forward. “Ten hours.” She waved to another, less obvious but not hidden security camera as she skipped through the immaculate and well-ordered mudroom with its tidy row of shoes, coats and unused racquets, bats, balls, gloves and other athletic equipment in the corner, and then walked into the even more organized and well equipped but nowhere near as clean kitchen, with a quick glance at everything in it and the night’s accrued mess. She took in the glassed doored freezer/refrigerator, two brand new looking but actually four year old sterling ovens, an extra-large and actually used dishwasher with a slightly bent door that might soon need replacing, a giant white cast iron sink that needed an obvious cleaning and a worn, but top of the line Italian coffee machine that started brewing right on schedule. She frowned at the dirty sink but smiled at the percolating coffee maker. “I wonder if the cameras are even on, Sam.” She grinned with half a laugh and stared at the most obvious one again with half a frown. “And if so, is anyone watching?” Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. “Yeah, I agree.” She smiled even more at Sam, putting down the milk bottle on the counter, and gave him a wink. “They don’t want to lose Caitlyn’s contract, much less a possible endorsement, and we don’t want to see any more paparazzi.” She dropped her car keys and wallet in a bowl on an out of the way plant stand, divided the newspapers into shelves on a small and open roll top desk in a nearly unseen and hidden corner toward the back of the kitchen and frowned at a six inch stack of pre-checked yet untouched fan letters, a nine inch stack of larger envelopes from groupies and perverts that she went through yesterday, and several packages from potential fanatics stacked two to three feet high that had a post-it note that said ‘Garbage?.’ I thought she was going to look through all of that yesterday. Ruff. Ruff. “No, I’m not surprised either.” She turned on a three year old but still working tablet right in the middle of the desk, sighing, and hit the newer but still two year old keyboard resting just to its left. “It’s why I get paid the big bucks and get all of the best perks, Sam.” She laughed to herself and waved her hand in the air. “Like health insurance and the idea of a pension.” Ruff. “No. No more barking.” She turned and held a flat hand down near Sam’s head, rising to her full height, and looked straight down at him and right in the eye with a fake frown. Not that you ever get that from Caitlyn. The dog sat right down at her feet with her look, straightening its back as close to attention as it could manage, and looked back up at her with bigger eyes and a furrowed brow. It waited right there with a slight and growing whine from the back of his throat until she reached into a nearby small metal box of canine treats on the top left corner of the desk. He stared at her and breathed heavy without otherwise moving until she pulled out a treat from the box, held it out just inches in front of him, right near his nose, and then gave him one. “You know that’s not cheap stuff.” Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. “Sam,” she said in a lower and almost gravelly tone, and the dog clamped his mouth shut, keeping quiet under her renewed watch and chewing like he didn’t see his half full bowl of overpriced dry dog food with the electronic water dispenser next to the desk. She laughed as he looked up at her with big eyes again, waiting and whining until she gave him a second treat which he took in a flash and bolted out of her officer corner and across the kitchen to the rest of the big house. “So, so easy.” She laughed, leaving her office corner to cross half the large kitchen, and reached into the mostly empty refrigerator for the gallon of pasteurized skim milk she bought yesterday from her own local bodega. She grabbed two cups from the closest cupboard right next to and nearly above the refrigerator and began pouring the already steaming hot coffee without even looking at the cups. She breathed deep, closing her eyes, and half smiled to herself at the smell for a second before adding milk to one, and three sugar cubes from the nearby jar to both cups, stirring only the one with the milk and then taking that cup back to the desk and the bright and now fully powered up three year old tablet. She took a long sip of half creamy but very sweet coffee as the email app came up while glancing over the front pages of the three newspapers, old snail mail and seven crisp post-it notes in front of her, the three on the actual desktop and one on the corner of the tablet in her own handwriting from last night. Okay. She nodded, rereading the various post-it notes in reverse order, and squinted at even more information on the screen before looking up with a nod. Okay. Okay. She breathed and looked past it all at a small wooden framed photo of her with an older look alike almost frowning, an almost too good looking man with nearly symmetrical features and two kids waving at her with their own crooked smiles, but the boy looking far away from the photographer and everyone else. She nodded to the family photo, smiling all the way up to her eyes, and then turned back to the desk with a smaller nod. So, all I need to do is make Caitlyn look old school Hollywood presentable to a typical slick haired, horny, narcissistic, self-focused, know nothing, insecure producer in a ridiculously priced, but well-tailored suit, who has access to ridiculously incredible amounts money and no decent or original ideas of his own. She shrugged, turning back to the post-it notes and the tablet, and let out a loud laugh. Or at least I hope that’s all. She scanned the new overnight emails, ignoring the ones from the fan club president, new trainer, new publicist, old manager and older agent, and smiled again but with narrowing eyes on the last one. At least he’s prompt and professional. She read the newest email confirming the 2:00 pm meeting. “Cool.” She took in a deep breath and laughed again. “Maybe it is going to be a good day.” She nodded at the message on the screen and her own smiling image reflected back at her with a quick nod and a quicker shrug. “Maybe even a great day.” She breathed in deep again and turned to a framed photo of a tall but petite, blonde, blued eyed young woman with long legs, just the right sized curves and absolutely symmetrical features beaming out with an insured million dollar smile that conveyed all of the perfection, innocence and hope everyone in the world wanted, and then let out all of the air she had been holding in her lungs in one long and big sigh. “Now, all I have to do is get Caitlyn out of bed, showered, made up, dressed, do her hair, polish her nails, review what this new and different movie is all about, catch her up on any real world events from today’s newspapers that she doesn’t really care about and then remind her who this new producer is before she goes and charms the heck out of him. She raised and nearly wagged a finger in the air in front of her and the email from the producer but stopped herself. While hopefully still keeping on all of her million dollar clothes and definitely keeping his tailored pants nice and loose throughout the meeting and an hour afterwards, just for luck. “Easy peasy, but let’s hope he’s gay anyway.” She sipped the settled coffee with skim milk and three cubes of sugar in the big cup that had ‘PA’ on it, leaning back in her desk chair to enjoy the smell of expensive coffee and the quiet moment. Then she looked up and nodded to the tall, broad shouldered and straight backed, blond haired man marching into the kitchen from the other side of the big house and smiling at her in his white golf shirt and navy blue chinos. “Scott.” “Good morning, Ms. Alvarez,” the tall man stopped at the kitchen’s island, coming to attention, and bowed his head to her, keeping up his smile, and eyed the cup of dark and sweet coffee on the marble countertop between them. He clasped his hands in front of him, waiting until she sighed from her office corner, and watched as she got up from the desk with her own cup of coffee to walk over to the island countertop and hand him the cup of coffee with three sugars and no milk. “And thank you.” He gave her a wink and shot her with a finger gun. “You’re the best.” “You’re welcome, Mr. Dawson, and it’s nice to see you up and about so early on this fine and beautiful morning in bright and sunny California.” Jen clinked her cup against his, meeting his eyes, and nodded to the second floor of the big house. “Although I could do without the BS, 19th century military like formality you continue to do even though we’ve known each other for a while now.” She gave him a once over, gesturing to his cup, the countertop and him, and then threw up a hand. “You know, you’re not in the army anymore?” “It was the navy.” He shrugged with half a smile, still at attention, and raised a wagging finger at her before taking a sip. “And sorry, that’s the way I was raised.” “Whatever.” Jen rolled her eyes and waved him away with the back of her hand before giving a look to the rest of the big house beyond the kitchen to the front hall and up the stairs to the second floor. “What’s the damage today anyway?” She gestured in the same direction with her cup and then turned back and gave him a wink and a nudge. “From one personal assistant to another.” “Well.” He chuckled with her, nodding to the rest of the big house and the second floor too, and smiled at a second sip of coffee. “You really want to know, Jennifer?” “That’s what I get paid for, Scott.” She took another, longer sip of coffee as she nodded big, keeping her eyes right on him, and headed for the dirty sink. “How are the two lovebirds?” “Lovebirds?” Scott let out a laugh, half following her, and drank a lot more coffee. “Really?” He swallowed the big sip, shrugging to himself, and then gave her a long look. “You think…” “It beats sex buddies, right?” Jen put down her cup on the island countertop without even a look, grabbing and rinsing out a sponge, and shrugged with a quick glance. “Or worse, fu…?” “It does.” Scott looked past her with a face, chuckling to himself, and moved to the other side of the kitchen island, sitting on an unseen stool across from her, and shrugged back. “And probably hits the mark, knowing Jimmy.” “Yeah, I know Jimmy.” She looked past him and everything else with a big shake of her head. She took a bigger deep breath, wiping a small, greasy spot on the counter, and turned with a curt nod to look down toward the front hall and the stairs that led to the second floor. “They’re still asleep?” “Yes, but they were noisy last night.” Scott followed her look, then shared one with her and twisted his face to the left. “Real noisy.” He almost frowned. “Broke a lamp and dented a wall.” He threw up his free hand, breathing deep, and drank more coffee. “I think.” “You think?” Jen frowned, noticing the messy blender on the countertop by the refrigerator, and grabbed it with both hands. “Great.” She made a face, managing to avoid touching the wet goop and drying crud all over the blender, and put it in the sink under the faucet. “And oh, so surprising.” “Yeah. I know. Right.” Scott half frowned at the messy blender, stopping himself from drinking more coffee, and looked her in the eye. “Sorry.” He sighed and nodded up to the second floor before pointing his index finger to the entire right side of the big house and the master bedroom. “I heard a loud ‘whomp’ around eleven, then a quieter, ‘Hey,’ followed by some mumbling conversation until about 11:30.” He shrugged. “And it’s been quiet since then.” “Great.” Jen closed her eyes for a second and then gave him a look. “At least they waited until I went home.” She held up the filthy blender to him with a look, having filled it all the way to the top with water and sighed. “Drugs?” “I’m not sure.” Scott half shrugged to himself, looking past the blender and her, and drank more coffee. “Jimmy likes his privacy.” “So, that’s a yes.” Jen stopped cleaning the blender, closing her eyes for a second, and shook her head. “Scott?” She looked right at him again but with a bigger frown. “What the f…” “Jennifer, what can I tell you?” Scott looked back, waving her and the rest of the world away, but half hid behind his cup. “Rehab doesn’t work for everyone.” “And some people don’t help with the post rehab life.” Jen fumed, turning back to the blender, and added a large drop of dish soap and more water to it. “Great.” She shook her head again with another look. “Caitlyn’s manager is going to love that.” She side eyed him, scrubbing off the mess and maybe some of the shine on the blender, and then threw up both of her hands and stared straight ahead at nothing. “She’s up for a major supporting role with a big named director.” “How big?” Scott half frowned again, putting down his cup on the countertop with a sigh, and looked up at Jen for more. “Abrams, Allen, Anderson...?” “You giving me an alphabetized list, Einstein?” She turned back to him with another look, shutting off the water with a quick laugh, and double checked for any last goop on the blender that wasn’t there. “Doesn’t matter, because I can’t say.” “Come on.” He nodded to her, throwing his hand in the air too, and pointed up to the second floor with half a grin. “My boss is fucking your boss six times a week, and I read the internet.” “Ever so reliable.” She closed her eyes to his wild hand gestures and the wink he added to the grin, then gave him a narrow eyed look for a long second before pointing up to the second floor too. “So, all quiet after 11:00 or 11:30?” “About that.” Scott looked right back, imitating her tight expression but also kept grinning, and twisted his hand back and forth in indecision. “Just some take-out pizza and a bottle or two of wine at 11:30.” “For Jimmy only?” Jen grumbled and crossed the kitchen in two quick steps, keeping her eyes right on him, and grabbed the empty water pitcher from the refrigerator as Scott finally nodded at her. “Good.’ She took in a breath, looked up at the second floor with a deep breath, and almost smiled. “So, maybe the rehab stuck.” “I hope so.” Scott made half a face, twisting his hand more, and then smiled big. “I like Cake.” Jen cringed for a second at the nickname, shaking her head at him, and wagged a finger in the air. “Yeah, we’re trying to move back to Caitlyn.” She crossed back to the sink, filling up the pitcher from the specially filtered side tap for drinking water only, and shook her head at him a quick three times. “Mononyms are out of fashion nowadays and probably always were unless you’re Cher or Madonna.” “They suggest that at rehab?” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and shrugged. “The second or third time?” “Fifth and yes.” She nodded bigger and kept her eyes on the second floor, breathing in deep again and shook her head with another frown. “Among other things.” “Like working with someone she’ll listen to?” He picked back up his cup from the countertop, holding it up high with half a smile and pointed it right at her. “Right?” “Yeah, Scott, and like paying attention to the people around you.” Jen noticed the dirty countertop by the stove for the first time and sighed. “And maybe cleaning up after yourself for once instead of waiting for me to do it.” She pointed it out to him and gave him a frown. “You know what I mean?” “Like Abrams?” Scott sipped more of his coffee, ignoring her sigh and look, and let out a chuckle and a full smile. “Hell, I could work wonders with Abrams.” “I doubt it.” She shook her head but chuckled, putting the now full water pitcher back in the refrigerator, and turned back to him with a grin. “You have to have some talent other than looking and sounding tough.” “Thanks so much for that judgment.” He grinned back and threw a hand at her and then to the giant bay window on the far wall that showed off a view of the impressive parts of the Los Angeles skyline. “And how was your late dinner with Troy last night?” “Tyler, and super smooth segue, stretch.” Jen laughed and started to wipe down the filthy countertop near the stove with the soft side of a sponge, noticing something cheese like baked in, and groaned. “You’re a slob, you know that?” She turned and shook her head at him again, wiping now with the rough side, and raised one finger in the air between them. “And the maid only comes in once a week now. So…” “Mm hmm. Yeah. Right.” Scott shrugged without looking back at her or her finger. “I’m married, remember. So…” He almost yawned drinking more of his coffee and waved to her for more details. “What was Tyler like?” “I still don’t really know.” Jen’s face twisted down and to the right, shrugging big, and turned back to the cheese like something still baked onto the countertop. “He’s a computer geek who Caitlyn set me up with.” She pointed her thumb back to the out of the way but still very obvious security camera by the inside side door. “He installed the new system last week.” “Huh?” Scott looked right at the security camera and walked over to it, giving it a big smile and nod, and waved to it before turning back to Jen. “Is he watching right now?” “Among other things.” She caught his eye, blushing a bit, and then smirked back at him with a laugh. “Sure.” “Cute.” Scott laughed too and winked more before returning to his stool and pointing to the rest of the big house and then the second floor. “Did he set up a panic room with the new system or…?” “He was a nice enough guy, I guess.” Jen shook her head, focusing on the last cheese like bit on the filthy countertop, and then turned to look right at him with half a shrug. “But I don’t know.” “Nice guys are the worst.” Scott laughed, staring at her as he straightened up on the stool and took a long sip of coffee as she returned to the island. “The absolute worst.” “Thanks.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him for savoring the coffee she had made for herself, and let out a laugh. “But I’m trying to date nicer guys.” “That’s a mistake.” Scott put down the cup, taking in a breath, and let it out with a big laugh and a bigger nod. “Trust me.” “You said that last night.” Jen gave him a long look, rinsing out the sponge in the sink, and held up a hand, waving for more. “Because you’re such an expert on what women need and how relationships work?” “I just had my 13th anniversary, Jennifer. So, yeah.” Scott failed to cover up another laugh, throwing up his hands, and looked past everything for a second before turning back to her. “And the losers you’re dating are nice guys for a reason, and that reason is because they’re pushovers.” He shook his head at her, picking up his cup again, and laughed some more. “They suck at pretty much everything, they’re never going to make the first move and you’re never going to be satisfied in any way, shape or form.” He nodded very big and right at her. “And that’s why they’re nice in the first place. Because they suck d... “Okay. Sure. Whatever.” Jen shook her head, squeezing the sponge dry, and looked up. “But I think that’s mostly on me, Scott.” She turned back to him and put the sponge back on the dishrack near the sink. “Or your wife.” She gave him a wink. “But I’m tired of having drunk assholes waiting a week to call me back, using me to meet my boss, or worse, giving me an engraved silver vibrator after we break up.” “Nick?” Scott said, loudly, ignoring her now narrow eyed look with a smirk, and laughed yet again. He held up and half tipped his coffee cup to her. “What a guy.” “Shut up.” Jen frowned, staring right back at him, and shook her head. “And I’m happy to make the first move.” She scoffed, waving him away with the back of her hand, and looked past him. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She opened the dishwasher, staring at a full load of dirty dishes for three whole seconds, and then turned back to Scott with a raised finger before pointing back to the dirty dishes. “You know, you could’ve run this.” “I was watching the lovebirds.” Scott yawned, ignoring the raised hand and the full dishwasher without taking his eyes off of her and swung his cup around and gave her a look. “You making the first move with Troy?” “Tyler, and I don’t know.” Jen held onto his eyes for a second before half frowning at nothing and opened the drawer next to the dishwasher to look for a dish soap capsule. “We’ve kissed a few times.” She held back a frown and shrugged. “But…” “Then he’s not worth it.” Scott shook his head big, trying to get back her attention again with the coffee cup, and let out a laugh. “I mean, come on.” He raised three fingers high in the air to her. “You’ve been on a few dates with him and the best you can do is…” “Four.” Jen looked past the coffee cup he was waving in the air and made a face. “And…” “Forget about him.” Scott waved his hand in the air to her more, taking the last sip of coffee, and shook his head. “He’s obviously a loser.” “Right, and you would know.” Jen gave him a long eye roll, starting the dishwasher, and then looked past him with a shrug. “But we’ll see.” “You will.” He kept looking right at her, nodding bigger and bigger, and then flashed a grin. “And you don’t need a nice guy, Jennifer.” He waved his cup back and forth in front of her even more and with a laugh. “No. You need a good guy.” He pointed to himself with another nod. “They have all the perks of not being complete assholes and they do make the first move.” “Really?” Jen chuckled, turning to see him still nodding and nodding, and pointed her index finger right at him with a stare and a twisted frown. “You.” She shook her head. “You would know?” “How do you think I got married?” He handed her his empty cup, just noticing now that she had already started the dishwasher and made half a face. “Sorry.” “Of course, you are.” She let out another deep breath, loudly, snatching the cup away from him, and opened the dishwasher before putting the cup in with one last quick motion. “And who’s not going to say they’re a good guy?” “My wife’s pretty happy, even when I disagree with her.” He smiled right at her with a big wink and moved his hips back and forth just a little. “And that’s after thirteen years.” He nodded bigger and bigger again. “So, something’s working.” “Yeah, great.” Jen half laughed at him, raising a hand to block her view of his hips, and then noted the unswept floor behind him with his footprint in it. “But I’m not impressed.” “I can live with that.” He shrugged at the noticeable footprint in the trace of dust and crumbs on the floor underneath him and waved a hand pointedly between them. “Since, you know, we’re not sleeping together.” “Thank God for that.” Jen nodded big and kept the hand between them as she turned away and then lowered it to grab a broom and dustpan from a tall cabinet on the other side of the refrigerator. She turned back to him with a big sigh, giving him a big frown, and started sweeping. “And so much more.” “Yes, well, it’s just a matter of time before you find what you’re looking for, Jennifer.” Scott sighed, clearing a space for her with a wave to the dusty floor and crumbs and gave her a smile. “You’ll get there.” “I thought I already had.” Jen turned from dirt in the dustpan to raise an eyebrow and then pointed out the window to her car at the end of the line of the ten ridiculous and garish automobiles. “No?” “Maybe.” Scott glanced out the window at her shiny VW at the end of the line of much shiner automobiles, half swallowing, and turned back to her with his own raised eyebrow. “But I already had a two-year-old when I was thirty.” “I’m twenty-seven, Scott.” Jen stopped mid sweep, turning all the way around, and tapped his leg with the end of the broom. “You bought me a cake.” Her face turned down and she shook her head right at him. “Last month.” “It was a cupcake and sorry.” Scott shrugged big, looking past her now, and made even more space for her to finish sweeping. “The point is I had a family when I was your age, and it wasn’t that hard to get.” “I’ve got plenty of family.” Jen raised the broom higher toward him with one hand for a second before turning back to the floor and started sweeping again. “And a lot of times it’s not much fun.” “That’s because you didn’t make that family yourself, Jennifer.” Scott gave her yet more space but gave her a look. “And I thought you knew that.” He pulled out his cell phone with a screenshot of a skinny, dyed blonde haired woman and two pre-teen brown haired boys who had his eyes and the woman’s smile, nodding big and smiling more, and then shot her with a finger gun. “There’s a difference.” He sighed. “A huge one, let me tell you...” “Yeah, thanks for that lesson.” Jen looked up from the phone with a twisted frown, giving him a long look, and flashed him a different finger before pointing to his gut. “Because you’re not bitching every day and worried about getting fat.” “Yes, I’m always busy and don’t have any time to myself. Sure.” Scott looked past her gesture, still smiling, and tapped his actually tight and flat belly. “But I’m happy and I have a purpose, Jennifer.” He shrugged mostly to himself and then looked her right in the eye. “Do you?” She gave him yet another, longer look, standing up straighter, and pointed up to the second floor. “And working for Jimmy’s part of all of that, Scott?” “No, not at all.” He shook his head big, taking in her longer look and stiffer stance, and chuckled to himself while raising his wrist with the big and thick Rolex on it. “It does pay for everything, though.” He flashed a grin. “Kids and all.” “Right.” Jen scoffed again, ignoring the watch but looking again at the phone and the photo of his family as he put it back in his pocket, and then pointed out the bay window and the Los Angeles skyline. “And Lori’s cool with that?” “Depends on the day.” He sighed, pointing behind them and in the direction that he actually lived, and glanced back at her with a quick nod. “But yes, mostly.” “Well, I hope she didn’t mind you watching our children last night.” Jen chuckled and looked to the front hall and up to the second floor again while putting away the broom and dustpan and gestured to his day old clothes. “Or your general… griminess.” “Right.” Scott chuckled back, looking at his wrinkled golf shirt and chinos and leaned forward to get a quick whiff of himself. “Oof,” he said as his face puckered up, and he straightened up with a mostly big laugh. “The joys of dozing in a chair after a 36 hour day, huh?” “Right.” Jen wrinkled her nose at him but laughed too. “And let me get you another for the ride home.” She turned back to the cabinet near the refrigerator, grabbing him a new cup, and filled it with more coffee and three sugars. “You sound like you’ll need it.” “Thanks, but I have to talk to Jimmy first.” He took the cup, nodding with half a frown to the front hall and the second floor, but didn’t move. “Make sure he’s all good.” “Of course, you do.” She shrugged. “That’s our job.” She smiled right at him as he just stood there, pouring two new cups of coffee but leaving them black, and turned to the front hall with a nod to the second floor. “But how about I wake them up first, okay?” “Fine, but then I’m going to need your phone, remember?” Scott straightened up, taking a fresh sip of coffee, and held out his hand to her with a look and a nod. “Just like every other time before, Jennifer.” “It’s just coffee, Scott.” Jen stopped at the edge of the kitchen, her back to him, and held up the two cups almost above her head like she was surrendering. “As you so carefully pointed out.” “Yes, but who knows what’s going on with them.” He took a step after her, pointing again to the front hall and up to the second floor, and made half a face. “I mean…” “Really?” Jen turned around, staring at him for a long second, and gave him a big, exaggerated shrug. “It’s not hard to imagine with just the two of them.” “That’s what I tell myself several times every day, Jennifer.” He shook his head with his face now twisted into half a frown, but he stood even up straighter, taking another sip from his own cup, and still held out his hand to her. “But I still need your phone.” He took a second step toward her. “You know Jimmy’s rules.” “Yeah, I remember Jimmy’s rules.” Jen made a face, almost swallowing, and shook her head. “He and I slept together a few years ago when I did some work for his father.” She didn’t move, still looking right at him, and lowered the coffees down to her sides. “What do you think I haven’t seen?” “It’s not the seeing I’m worried about.” Scott shrugged, holding out his hand closer for her phone, and just stopped himself from taking another step forward. “Anyone can just go to the internet, Scott.” Jen pointed to the three year old tablet hidden in her office corner on the other side of the kitchen. “And there’s so much to see that…” “Yes, but those photos pre-date me working for him, and you know the policy.” He waved his hand in the air in front of her and then pointed to her jeans front pocket with a narrowed eyed look and a nod. “So, phone, please. Now.” Jen looked back, stifling a frown, and came back into the kitchen to put down the coffees on the counter. She pulled out the shiny blue cell phone from her pocket but just held onto it and looked Scott right in the eye. “You know, he was awesome the first time, terrifying the second and I faked my period to avoid a third.” “You’re not the first to say that.” Scott nodded without looking at her, taking the phone, and bowed his head to her. “Sorry and thanks.” “Yeah, you’re welcome,” Jen said, in a low voice, keeping her eyes on her phone, but rebalanced the coffees in her hands and started again for the stairs. “You know.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m kind of surprised they’re going on two months.” “Me too.” Scott nodded, without looking at her, and tapped her phone, seeing the screen photo, and held it up to Jen with half a smile. “Nice looking kids.” “My nephew and niece.” She stopped and glanced back at a young boy and a younger girl giving her a hug on a beach with the ocean behind them. “They’re ten and seven and a whole lot of fun.” “Aren’t they all?” Scott looked at the kids again, smiling more, and tapped the screen with his thumb. “It’s password protected, right?” “No, I missed a couple of calls that way.” Jen shook her head, looking back, and pointed one of the cups right at him. “So, don’t go through my stuff.” She put on a frown. “Right?” “Embarrassing photos?” Scott gave her a goofy face, putting down her phone on the countertop behind him, and reached for his own. “Or worse, a bunch of…” “Of my family.” Jen laughed, hitting the front hall, and headed for the stairs. “Yeah.” She started climbing. “But knock yourself out if you really feel the need.” “I don’t. Trust me.” He drank more coffee, pulling up the Los Angeles Times app on his phone, and scanned the latest headlines. “But you should still password protect it.” “I shouldn’t have to worry if you’re the good guy you claim to be, Scott.” Jen said with a raised voice from the stairs. “Right?” “Too true.” He looked up but couldn’t see her and nodded to the second floor. “And send Jimmy down, huh?” “Like he’d listen.” Jen laughed without stopping and kept a tight grip to balance the two cups and not spill a drop of coffee. “Right.” Scott nodded to himself, sighing, and raised his voice to be heard as she kept walking. “I have to pick up my youngest at 11:00, and that includes traffic.” “I’ll try.” Jen nodded with her own louder voice and stuttered stopped more than halfway up the stairs. She sniffed, feeling her nose twitch at something in the air, but then kept going. What is that smell? She thought, wriggling her nose, and shook off the smell before she got to the top step and turned to the master bedroom on the right side of the big house. She looked around at the dimly lit upstairs hall, checked the three other much smaller bedrooms and bath that all seemed in order, and then grumbled at the very cracked plaster on the wall near the linen closet with the washer and dryer. That’s going to cost a few hundred bucks and a few hours of tomorrow, at least. She turned to recheck the other rooms for any other problems. And that doesn’t include the broken lamp Scott mentioned. She frowned, catching the hint of a weird smell again, and hesitated at the master bedroom door before putting down the coffees on a small table in the hallway and knocking three times. Whatever. She straightened up, putting on her practiced smile, and opened the door a crack. I’ve seen it all before. The MessYeah, that’s a shock. Jen used two fingers to push the door the rest of the way open and stared into the master bedroom with a long and deep breath of whatever smell permeated this half of the upstairs. Her nose crinkled up, and she took a half step in, turning to the floor, and noted the white but streaked silk linens, numerous torn up throw pillows, a scattering of many unread hardcover books and bound screenplays, a dented alarm clock, lots of dirty clothes, some clean ones, more than a few unread newspapers, a large and brand new tablet, two open and empty old bottles of wine, one nearly empty pizza box and seven pizza crusts strewn across the hand woven Persian carpet on this side of the very large bedroom. “Lots of sound and fury signifying nothing.” She closed her eyes at all of it for a second, opening them wide with a long sigh and her practiced smile, and pantomimed a large check mark high in the air above her head. “And now I’ve used Shakespeare on the job.” She raised a thumb up high to nobody, losing half of the smile, and rolled her eyes. “Yay, Mrs. Perez and 11th grade high school English Language Arts.” She turned around, stepping back out into the much cleaner hall, and grabbed the two full cups of steaming hot coffee on the mahogany table in the hallway. Her nose wrinkled again as she caught a glimpse of Caitlyn curled up tight into herself in a little naked ball on the far corner of the giant California king sized bed and noted the tinkling sounds of the rainfall shower from the giant sized bathroom just behind the nearby thick and ornately carved teak door. “Oh kay.” She walked through and around the mess of a room, tiptoeing near the dirty and clean clothes and just plain old garbage, and put down one cup of black coffee on the tall but narrow antique 19th century oak dresser near the bathroom door and placed the other on the dented and dinged IKEA faux wood nightstand crowded with supermarket magazines, an older tablet and a foldable cell phone next to Caitlyn’s corner of the bed. Then she gently and quietly covered the tall but petite, blonde, young woman on the giant bed with the bleach white alpaca blanket from Peru and smoothed out all of the folds around her arms and legs and up to her shoulders. She gave the giant mess of a room another, closer look, half frowning through a deep breath, and then carefully put the too many torn throw pillows from the floor up onto the opposite side of the bed from Caitlyn, started picking up the seven half-eaten pizza crusts and putting them in the nearly empty pizza box and grabbed the two mostly empty old wine bottles halfway on the other side of the room. She left the crust filled pizza box and the two wine bottles lined up outside the bedroom under the table in the hallway and then returned and started scooping up the various dirty clothes and the streaked white linens into the hamper that was hidden behind a teak framed full length mirror in the corner of the room. “You waking up there, Cathy?” Jen turned and frowned at the tall but petite, blonde young woman still lying in a naked ball on the bed and thought, That’s right, Caitlyn. I used your family name. The one you don’t like. Just like your mom, who wouldn’t care at all but wants you to keep the monthly checks coming. She sighed, raising her finger for a moment to the young woman, but held her tongue. Because this is a big day. She threw up her other hand. And we have to get ready to kick butt. She looked over the remaining mess of the master bedroom, taking in another deep breath, and shook her head. No matter how much fun I hope you had last night or whatever that smell is. Caitlyn did not move a muscle, make a noise or stir at all at the sound of her original, given name. “I’m glad you had a good time and all, but we have to get up soon, hon,” Jen said, putting the brand new tablet on a smaller oak dresser that was sometimes used as a desk on the far side of the room near the humongous walk in closet, and gathered up the otherwise untouched books, screenplays and newspapers before leaving them stacked in a neat pile on the floor by the door. “Thanks for giving me last night off, though.” She moved onto the next mess and headed for the clean clothes. “I used it to see Tyler, our blue eyed security consultant from Farmland, Indiana, on a fourth date, and no, nothing that exciting or newsworthy really happened.” She sorted the clean clothes into three stacks of pants, blouses and underwear on the hope chest at the foot of the bed and looked up and over it with her practiced smile to the far corner where the tall but petite, blonde, young woman still hadn’t moved a muscle. “He did take me to a nice dinner with drinks at that new place, Taste, and was a gentleman throughout, understanding that I really did have to get up early this morning.” She nodded to herself, turning to nothing, and stared into space as she started folding clothes, sorting and stacking by color and design and then shrugged. “But I’m thinking nice guys might not be for me.” She smiled a relaxed smile, turning to the young woman with bigger eyes, another nod and a shrug, and sighed. “Yeah, he asked a lot of questions and actually listened pretty well, but I wasn’t feeling it.” She turned back to the clothes, making a face, and regained her focus. “Nothing. Nada de amor, ni el sexo.” She glanced up at Caitlyn again, almost frowning, and shrugged again with half a laugh. “He was just there, you know?” She breathed deep with a nod to the young woman. “Which is surprising since you were right that he’s actually good looking and that we do have similar tastes, at least in late night food and wine.” She turned to the bathroom door as the shower shut off with an audible clunk that needed to be fixed, and then looked back at Caitlyn yet again. The coffee was still steaming on the nightstand behind her, smelling good and strong, and the young woman still hadn’t moved at all. Hadn’t even breathed loud enough to hear. “Caitlyn, get up and drink some coffee so we can get the day started, huh?” Jen’s eyes now narrowed on her, and she tossed a folded T-shirt that hit the young woman’s shoulder and tumbled onto the other side of the bed. “Remember we have that lunch with Daniel later today.” She stared at the still unmoving young woman, almost standing up from the hope chest, and raised her voice just a little louder. “You know, about the movie.” But Caitlyn didn’t move. At all. And she still didn’t hear her breathing. Jen did a double take then and stared at her for half a minute, not moving at all, not even to breathe herself when she got a shiver for a second and got to her feet with half a frown. She started toward the bed, turning her head to listen for anything, but not hearing a thing except Jimmy rummaging around on the other side of the ornately carved teak door in the bathroom’s large and well stocked medicine cabinet. “Caitlyn, hey.” Jen stopped on the side of the bed and patted the young woman gently on the hip, leaving her hand there and rubbing her side. “It’s time to get up.” She sat on the bed, scooching closer to the curled up young woman, and reached up to feel her forehead. She frowned. She noticed that it was cold to the touch and pulled her hand back from the chilly clamminess of the young woman’s forehead with now wide open eyes. “Too cold.” She blinked, twice, breathing in deep, and turned to look right at Caitlyn’s face, now noticing her one half open and unmoving dry eye and leaned into her. She reached to untangle the young woman from her ball, noting an odd stiffness, but managed to unroll her onto her back without any resistance or movement from her at all. Then she pulled off the blanket halfway from her very naked body, grazing her arm, and noticed the cold and clamminess of her arm too. “No.” She ignored the nakedness and swallowed hard, leaning forward on the bed and bending over to put her ear on Caitlyn’s naked chest, right between her breasts and over her heart, but failed to hear anything. No breathing lungs or beating heart. And definitely still no movement of any kind. Nothing. “Shit,” she said in a low, tense whisper and blinked harder, wiping away a sudden tear and taking in one and then two deeper breaths. Then a sudden shallow third when she caught her breath in her throat, stood up in a rush, and wiped away more tears from her whole face. She turned back to the bed, flinching for a second, and took half a step away from it to look again at Caitlyn’s half open dry eye and blank stare and swallowed back a gasp. “Shit.” She saw a giant purple and black bruise now on the side of the young woman’s head that had been hidden on the bed and that she hadn’t seen before and started to breathe faster. She blinked yet again. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” An electric razor erupted with a sudden buzz from behind the closed ornately carved teak door, and Jen jumped up with even wider eyes, turning toward it and Jimmy who must have stood on just the other side of the door. She held her breath then, not moving a muscle, and noticed out of the corner of her eye a brand new to her, but shaggy and raggedy brown teddy bear sitting on a middle shelf of the bookcase on the other side of the room that hadn’t been there yesterday. It stared right at her with weird, bright blue and sparkly glass eyes. She turned her head to the teddy bear slowly, trying to remember it or what was on the shelf yesterday, and nodded to herself with a frown that she had never seen it before in her life. She turned back to the still closed bathroom door, then to Caitlyn’s dry open eye, and then the teddy bear again. “So, someone saw this and called the cops, right?” She swallowed hard again, half croaking while still getting back her voice, and noted the 8:13 on the dented alarm clock that still lay on the floor by the bed when she remembered that she had shooed away Jake the paparazzo just fifteen minutes ago. “Or not.” Jen turned with a deepening frown to the continuing buzzing of the electric razor behind the closed bathroom door and blinked yet again. “Shit.” She turned to the rest of the large master bedroom, shifting on her feet, and stopped herself from taking a deep breath. She shook her head at half of the room that was still a giant and likely narcotic and alcohol fueled mess, but she’d straightened up the other now clean and pristine half so that it looked like nothing had happened at all last night. Screw me left and right for doing my job, she thought as she took two steps forward and one step back to and from the second floor hall. Then she stopped almost completely, looking at the stairs down to the first floor, and almost smiled. “Scott,” she said in a whisper, nodding to herself twice, and smiled down to the first floor before turning back to the bedroom and looking again at the closed bathroom door and the buzzing behind it. Jimmy is a complete and total asshole, but Scott. She breathed and half nodded. Scott is a good guy, a former army Ranger or something and does right by those he likes, and he likes me, she thought, and looked back into the entire master bedroom. But he works for Jimmy. She stood still, feeling herself shake and tremble just a little, and her eyes narrowed on nothing in particular again. Shit. She turned to the closed bathroom door yet again, listening more to the continuing drone of the razor, and then shook her head at the door and then the half mess of the master bedroom. And Jimmy’s dealt with this kind of thing before with Scott’s help. Shit. Her face turned all the way down as she reached out a hand to steady herself on the door frame and caught herself starting to breathe too fast. She closed her eyes, nodding to herself several times, and then caught her breath. And that means I am still grade A screwed. “Shit.” She opened her eyes again and looked around the large master bedroom to see the dirty clothes in the hamper, the three stacks of clean clothes folded on top of the hope chest and the second steaming cup of coffee on the dresser just outside of the bathroom. Okay. She stepped all the way into the master bedroom and wrapped her arms around herself. Think. She shook her head, twice, and her face straightened out into three lines. Not like Hollywood or TV, but like high school, where everyone is a devious bitch or conniving shit who would rat out their friends in a heartbeat to avoid trouble. She took in a deep breath, holding it on purpose, and closed her eyes again, nodding to herself for three seconds, and then shook out the tension in her face. Like when I borrowed Alex’s clothes and didn’t want her to find out. She opened her eyes and breathed again when the razor behind the bathroom door stopped buzzing for a second and she felt her heart beating through her chest. “Ow,” she heard through the thick and ornately carved teak bathroom door. “Shit.” “God damn it, you fucking motherless whore,” Jimmy said, yelling so loud that his voice rang out into the master bedroom and throughout the house, and seemed to slap his hand hard against the door, twice, but then stopped, and the abrupt buzzing of the electric razor started again. Oh kay. Jen turned and frowned at the door, touching her chest to feel her heart beating harder and faster than ever before, and wiped another tear. He did this last night and now he’s getting all cleaned up and ready to tell his side of the story this morning, she thought, still not moving, and looked around the large bedroom again and the mess strewn across half of it. He’ll make it look like an accident or something, blame the recovering party girl/fame whore, and the police will probably believe him because they’ve done it before. She half frowned, unwrapping her arms from around herself, and took a half step forward. The shit. She stared again at the half of the master bedroom that she had cleaned up and shook her head. It’s not the same. She straightened herself all the way up, squaring her shoulders, and sniffed the air again, noticing the earlier weird smell but now laced with the strong aroma of two cups of expensive black coffee. And even if I mess it up again, he’ll probably notice things are off. She shook her head again and swallowed harder. He’s an asshole, not an idiot, and he’s actually smart. She shook her head. He’ll remember something or notice the lingering smell of coffee. She peeked her head out the door to look down the second floor hall to the stairs and their path to the first floor again. Or Scott will tell him I came upstairs or whatever. She closed her eyes yet again, but just for a second, and then opened them with a look. It doesn’t matter. He’ll know.” She looked around the master bedroom yet again, settling her focus on the glass eyed teddy bear camera, and forced a calm, deep and clear breath of air into and out of her lungs. She waved both hands high and wide in the air at the hopefully active teddy bear camera and pointed to Caitlyn’s very still and naked body and bruised face and then the bathroom when the buzzing stopped again. She turned to the walk in closet doors, half hidden in the very back of the room, staring at them for half a second and then looked back again at Caitlyn’s blond hair and naked and paler than ever body. She nodded. Thank you for being so paranoid, Caitlyn. She wiped her face and pulled up the bleach white alpaca blanket from the side of the bed where it had fallen and laid it back on and tucked it tightly around the young woman’s body again to give her a hug, holding her for a long moment and wiping away more tears. “You were better than anyone knew.” She wiped her face again, drying her hands off on her blue jeans, and then stood up and turned to the back of the master bedroom. She breathed in an almost normal breath and began walking quickly and directly across the room to open the half hidden double doors to reveal the humongous walk-in closet and the mountains of clothes, shoes and miscellaneous accessories jammed into every single inch of shelves, racks and open and closed drawer space. She ignored all of it to walk in and shut the double doors behind her with a hard push and too loud a click and stared at the mountains of stuff in front of her. She turned her head to the left and then the right and counted a few feet in her head before nodding. Then she shook her head and used both arms to form an arrowhead with her hands to cut herself a narrow path through the tight layers and layers of clothes, shoes and miscellaneous accessories when she heard the bathroom door open up behind her and on the other side of the master bedroom. She froze. “Caitlyn, I’ve got to tell you, I had a great night,” she heard Jimmy say through the walk in’s double doors, coming out of the bathroom as he laughed out loud and stomped what sounded like all the way around the bedroom twice and then stopped on his heels with half a chuckle. “Well, you know, except for the end.” He laughed out loud again. “That kind of sucked.” You fuck, she thought, moving forward again, very slowly and with a frown, and then half turned back to the double doors between them with a narrowed eyed look. “I mean… Look, I’m sorry you got your head slammed into the wall, what, three times? Maybe four? But you didn’t listen, did you? Not even after the warning,” Jimmy said, in a still very loud voice, and Jen blinked herself back into focus, turning her eyes back to the mound of clothes opposite from the double doors, and forced herself through another two and then more layers of clothes, shoes and accessories to reach out to the back of the closet wall. “I mean I did tell you about the butt stuff and cocaine and what happens to me, right?” “Okay.” She pushed, shoved and squirmed herself right up against the back wall of the closet and with all of her fingers on both hands searched and spread out from one spot of the back wall into one outward circle, then a slow second circle and a slower third circle until she grazed a tiny edge on the smooth surface of the wall that shouldn’t be there and breathed again. “Yes.” “It’s really too bad, honey. You know. Because I really thought we had something good with all of the fucking and sucking, right?” Jimmy said, just half laughing now, and then stopped for a moment. “What?” Crap, he’s noticed. Jen didn’t move, holding her breath again, listening and feeling the crush of clothes, shoes and accessories but also the tiny edge on the back of the closet wall. “I also thought you were naked when I went to shower, Cake, and looking at the world with that crazy and weird big dead eye,” Jimmy said, and Jen heard him pick up the coffee cup from either the nightstand by the bed or the dresser near the bathroom, take a long sip, and then sigh loudly before putting the cup back down. “Jenny?” She jumped up with the mention of her name but stuck her face into the fabric of a real fur winter coat that had never been worn and just managed to keep silent. No. She shook her head in the fur. Screw that. I’m not panicking. She turned back to the wall and poked her fingers deeper into the unusual edge, wriggling them in further, and felt herself start to sweat from her scalp down to her toes. “Jennnnnny?” Jimmy said even louder, and she heard him walking very slowly but loudly around the entire master bedroom. He knocked over something then, probably the tall lamp next to the bed, and it crashed on the floor. “I’m not an idiot, honey. I know you were here.” He laughed as something else crashed to the floor and then a third, heavier object bang against a wall but not break. “You’re the only one in this house who makes good coffee, cleans up compulsively or who would tuck in Caitlyn in some kind of creepy rest-in-peace bullshit gesture probably based on all of that Catholic upbringing that my dad loved about you.” She tried to ignore his laugh and his loud voice, swallowing hard and breathing harder herself, and pushed the tips of her fingers forward into the tiny edge of the faux back wall, prying open a barely there secret lever to the closet’s hidden door, and heard it click. “Jenny, Jenny, Jenny,” she heard Jimmy say, louder each time and every time. “Obviously, Cake had an accident, and I need your help cleaning it up.” He knocked over something else that sounded like exploding glass. “We need to make this right, Jenny.” He raised his already loud, projecting voice even louder to almost a scream. “Come on, honey, you know I need you.” He paused and lowered his booming voice into a purr. “Just like I did that first special night three years ago, remember?” She frowned again, holding her tongue, and stepped forward past the now half opened secret door, pulling herself through and past the mound of clothes, shoes and accessories and sucking in her stomach as tight as it would go so that she just managed to squeeze her shoulders and hips all the through the hidden door and the room beyond it. “Okay, you’re not going to be helpful, and I understand that, but it’s just going to make things harder for you,” she heard, his voice loud again, and the closet’s double door flew open with a loud, almost explosive pop. “Scott.”’ She closed the secret door tight then, forcing herself to do it slowly and quietly, and then bolted it shut with a slight click as she squinted to adjust to an unseen light source in the background of the otherwise dark, tiny and cramped panic room. “Scott,” she heard Jimmy somehow yell even louder. “Code red.” He screamed his lungs out. “Code red.” The Near ThingJen and Jimmy both stood absolutely and completely still, neither moving a muscle and both holding their breaths, not more fifteen feet apart, and with two walls and too many layers of Caitlyn’s clothes, shoes and accessories to count between them. Then they both closed their eyes and held their breaths at the same time, just listening for any and everything, but not hearing much. What is a code red? She thought with another deepening frown, turning with a furrowed brow and shifting her stance by one quiet step to lean forward very slowly and carefully and put her ear up against the bare panic room wall. And where is Scott? She jumped back then, hearing Jimmy violently invade the walk in closet, slam through the first rack of clothes to attack three shelves of shoes and scatter a drawer or two of accessories on the opposite side of the wall from her as he then started lashing out more and tearing apart the rest of the crowded space of many more racks, shelves and drawers crowded together in the humongous space. He knocked over and upended what sounded like at least three racks of dresses, pants and blouses with a loud bang, threw aside multiple stacks of shelved shoes, boots and sandals to clatter against the walls, and tore down drawers and rows of accessories from purses to make up and jewelry and gems to shatter across the floor. “Scott, God damn it, Scott,” he said through a growl a half a minute into the explosion of rage, violence and sound, yelling and screaming and stomping his way through the walk in closet that sounded like it was now covered knee high in a jumbled mess of ruined clothes, broken shoes and shattered accessories, now smashing his fists against the wall separating him and Jen, and raising his voice up higher and higher into an increasing roar. “Fucking code red, Scott.” He sang out even louder. “Fucking code red.” Whatever it is, it can’t be good, she thought, stepping back from the other side of the panic room wall with a growing frown as Jimmy slammed what must have been half a broken metal dress rack against it. She saw a slight dent on her side of the wall, breathing faster all of the sudden, and shook her head at it and everything else. He’s even crazier than when I slept with him three years ago. Her face tightened into three straight lines again, trying to catch her breath, and managed a nod to herself. And he was super crazy then. “Jimmy, what is going on?” Jen heard Scott say in a muted tone through at least the closet wall, holding onto her deep breath, and put her ear back against it. “Jimmy?” She listened for a second, her ear right against the wall and now saw the rest of the panic room for the first time, taking in the small, tight and cramped space that Caitlyn had started installing last week. She stared at the double row of six small but high resolution video monitors on a tiny wooden desk two feet in front of her that managed to light up the rest of the small room in a dim, bluish glow and turned to the first monitor. She saw and frowned at the giant knee deep mess of torn dresses, mangled shoes and shattered accessories Jimmy made in the walk in closet and caught Scott’s narrowing eyes on all of it as he entered from the large bedroom and stared right at the new dent on their side of the closet wall and finally looked down on the slobbering, wide eyed manchild himself. “Jimmy. Hey,” Scott said in a quiet voice, waving his right hand and splayed fingers wide and close in front of Jimmy’s wild open eyes and expanding features, and still didn’t getting any kind of reaction. “Jimmy?” He raised his voice into almost a shout. “Come on. What’s…” “What?” Jimmy turned in a loud whirl, shaking off his contorted face with an almost blubbering growl, and stared right at him just two feet away but with a tight eyed squint. “Scott.” He stepped closer, turning his entire focus onto him and came nearly to attention with a big nod and a deeper frown. “We have a code red.” “Right. Okay. I hear you.” Scott blinked at Jimmy’s giant features just inches from his face, nodding back to the man, but still half stepped out of the closet, looking into the master bedroom with a long pause on a tall but petite, blonde young woman lying in a small corner of the California king sized bed, and then turned back to Jimmy with a sinking expression. “Where’s Jennifer, Jimmy?” He pushed his hands through his hair, shook his head, and pointed into the master bedroom. “She came upstairs with coffee for you.” He frowned all the way, swallowing hard, and pointed to back to the tall but petite, blonde young woman lying in the small corner of the bed. “And please tell that’s not Caitlyn?” “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Scott,” Jimmy said, loudly, crouching down on the edge of the walk in closet, and turned to start sorting through the ruined dresses, broken shoes and shattered accessories on the floor as if trying to find something. Anything. “And yes.” He whipped a woman’s big, floppy leather boot at the far end of the closet wall, turning back to Scott with a giant snarl and frown, and threw up his hands high in the air. “She’s the fucking code red.” “What?” Jen said, squinting at Jimmy and Scott’s real time images through the clearest of the six small monitors, and made a face. “I’m the…?” “Jesus, Jimmy?” Scott breathed in deep and let it out loudly, staring now with widening eyes at Caitlyn’s half covered, unmoving and lifeless nakedness in the far corner of the California king sized bed and turned back to him with a sinking face. “What the hell happened here?” He blinked again, three times, pointing right to Caitlyn, and looked Jimmy right in the eye. “Did you…” “It was an accident. Okay, Scott?” Jimmy said in an even louder voice, grabbing Scott’s arm in a vise like grip, and pulled him all the way into the closet and closer to him. He looked back at him with just inches now separating them and put on half of a grin and then a full shrug. “What can I tell you?” He shook his head and grinned all the way. “It happens.” “Again?” Scott shook him off, waving him away with the back of his hand, and walked out of the closet again and across the large master bedroom to step around the mess of a floor and up to the California King to take in Caitlyn from just a few feet away. He pulled back the rest of the bleach white alpaca blanket from her naked body, half turning away, but then frowned at her increasingly pallid skin and the black and blue mark that seemed to leak over one side of her face. He saw her dead half open eye, closing both of his for a second, and swallowed again. “What is this?” He breathed deep again, raising all of the fingers on his right hand, and turned back to Jimmy.” The fourth ti…?” “You need to do something, Scott. Now,” Jimmy said, yelling again, in the doorway between the master bedroom and walk in closet, before raising his flailing arms in the air for a moment, and then picked up and hurtled more clothes out of the closet. “Jennifer must have been here.” He looked right at him, pointing to the four corners of the master bedroom, and punched both of the closet’s double doors. “She obviously brought us coffee and now she’s gone.” He rubbed the torn skin on the knuckles of his right hand, frowning big at Scott, and then pointed to the two still steaming cups of coffee on the nightstand and oak dresser. “Gone who knows where after seeing who knows what, God damn it.” “Yeah, that’s her job, Jimmy.” Scott shrugged but stared narrow eyed at the warm coffees on the IKEA nightstand and the 19th century oak dresser, nodding at the familiarity of the cups, and then made a face at the three stacks of folded clean clothes on the hope chest at the foot of the California king that contrasted with the mess and chaos of most of the rest of the master bedroom. “You know that.” He gave him a look. “Didn’t Jennifer used to work for your da…” “And this is your job, Scott, God damn it. So, get to fucking work, will you?” Jimmy walked back into the master bedroom with raised hands, stomping around the various floor messes in a half broken circle, and then pointed a finger right at Scott and turned to the door to the second floor hall that led to the stairs down to the first floor. “She didn’t fucking go down there, did she?” He raised his voice with his eyes getting bigger, stepping all the way up into Scott’s personal space again, and then flapped his hands up and down in the air right in front of him and near the sides of his face. “Did she, Scott?” “No.” Scott let him finish, just staring at him, and then took a step back. “No, she didn’t.” He shook his head at the sight of the master bedroom and pointed to the open door to the second floor hall that led to the stairs to the first floor. “No.” He made a face for a second, staring in the direction of the other rooms on the second floor, and shook his head. “No, I would’ve seen her or heard her, or…” “So, where is she, Scott? Huh? Where?” Jimmy looked right through him, pointing out the door to the hallway again, then under the bed, to the bathroom and then back to the walk in closet before stomping around in another circle around the various messes with his hands flailing around in the air the whole time. “Where the fuck is she, God damn it?” Without a word Scott turned all the way around from Jimmy’s tantrum to stare at and frown again at Caitlyn’s uncovered naked body for a long moment, taking in the giant bruise on her the side of her face, and shook his head at her frozen pale expression. Then he stepped forward and looked around the large bedroom again, under the bed and in the corner with the hidden hamper before peeking his head into the very large and very empty bathroom. “What the fuck, Scott?” Jimmy ripped off the big fluffy white towel that had been wrapped around his waist since getting out the bathroom and whipped it through the air at Scott, just missing him. “Come on.” He jumped up and down right in front of him, showing off all of his tight or wobbly bits, and shook his hands in his face again. “Do your thing, you fucking twat sucking, bastard prick.” Yes, Scott. Jen watched all of it in black and white on the master bedroom monitor, staring as Scott looked past Jimmy, walked all the way into the bathroom this time, and then came out a half a minute later with a tight look. She nodded big at him. Do the right thing. “This is the shit that I’m really paying you for, Scott. You know that. We talked about it when you first came on with me.” Jimmy stepped up to him, his hands now making fists in the air, and got so close that their faces touched before Scott took another step back from him with a frown. “Do your God damn, fucking magic.” He leaned forward, ignoring or just not seeing Scott’s now twisted expression, and raised a finger right in his face. “It’s why I hired you when you were nothing but a bit of muscle and a fucking wannabe stunt man, you God damn piece of...” “Jimmy.” Scott ignored the finger, looking past him again to recheck the large bedroom and then put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Do you mind?” He gave him a straight on look and nod, coaxing him back half a step and then another, and waved a finger at the man’s nakedness only 24 inches away. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night on the crappy settee out in the hallway, okay? And I need to think for at least a few seconds before I can do anything, right?” He made a face and threw up a hand at him. “Just like you, right?” “Yes, just like me.” Jimmy smiled big at him, nodding with a quieter voice now, and put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, mimicking his outreach, and squeezed it hard. “There you are, buddy.” He giggled, loudly, still standing close to him, and then looked down with a cracked grin at himself and then at his lost towel by their feet. “The magic is coming out.” “Thanks.” Scott stepped back even more from Jimmy’s general closeness, touchiness and all of his nakedness, pulling out Jen’s shiny, blue cell phone from his pants’ back pocket and then scooped a small plastic black box with a keypad, two nobs and three antennae from inside the front pocket of the brown leather coat that he had put on just a few minutes ago. He examined the black box for a few seconds and then turned one red nob all the way to the right, checking the power levels on the side of black box, and held up the whole thing for one last check while giving Jimmy another look. “It’s a good thing I hadn’t left, huh?” “I’m blessed, Scott. Blessed by your devotion and your boy scout preparedness.” Jimmy nodded big, staring at the black box and Jen’s cell phone, his hands flapping again, and his smile getting bigger. “Absolutely God damn blessed from heaven above as if I was still going to morning mass like I did when I was an altar boy at St. Paul’s down by the beach.” “Right, Jimmy. Right.” Scott ignored the flapping hands and the widening eyes and fiddled with the black box’s second nob, turning it all the way to the right and then the left, and punched in a code on the small front keypad. “We should get new batteries for this soon.” He raised it up with a narrowed eyed look, noting the green light blinking, and nodded to himself. “The scrambler is low on power.” He breathed, shaking his head, but gave Jimmy a nod. “It’s still operational, though.” “Shit.” Jen blinked at the monitor in front of her with the video feed of Scott and Jimmy, now staring at the blinking black box with a sudden nod, and then rushed forward across the tiny panic room, knocking over an old style keyboard on the desk and pushed over a broken lamp next to it before finding and grabbing the at least ten year old foldable cell phone sitting half under an instruction manual on the far side of the monitors. “No.” She swallowed, flicking it open, and started dialing 911. “Crap.” “Blink and the magic of radio silence.” Jimmy waved both of his hands in the air above the frequency jammer with his middle fingers twisting up and down, giggling with a high pitched howl in the air, and watched as Scott turned on the black scrambler all the way up and its blink turned into a solid straight line of light. “Best investment I ever made.” Jen watched and her voice got caught in the back of her throat. “It’s scary that I feel the need to carry one of these around all the time, Jimmy.” Scott stared at the man with a sigh, shaking his head just a little, and pocketed the scrambler back under his coat and Jen’s phone in his pants’ front pocket. “I mean...” “Son of a bitch,” Jen said, yelling, less than fifteen feet away in the tiny panic room as she heard nothing but a droning silence on the old foldable cell phone and turned to stare straight ahead at Jimmy and Scott now making faces on the monitors in front her. “No.” She shook her head. “Shit. I told her to get a land line up here.” Scott and Jimmy turned to each other then, with narrowing eyes and open mouths, nodding to each other quietly, and both turned to the walk in closet and smiled big. They both walked back to the disastrous mess of clothes, shoes and accessories Jimmy had created where they stopped, stood still and now listened to the faint but noticeable sound of Jen moving around on the other side of the back wall separating them. “And I believe in miracles, Scott,” Jimmy said with a now giant smile all over his face, standing in the disheveled closet still naked and began pushing aside the few still standing half-filled racks of dresses, boxes of shoes and crates of accessories to get to its back wall. He made the sign of the cross and kissed his hand, looking to the heavens and turned back, grinning now from ear to ear, and gave Scott another nod and a little giggle. “Didn’t Caitlyn say something about a panic room last week?” “She said she wanted one.” Scott nodded back with narrow eyes and a tight expression, walking past Jimmy’s nakedness carefully without touching him, and ignored the chaos of all the ruined clothes, broken shoes and discarded accessories to look at the walk in closet’s back wall. He tapped on it three times to hear a low echo of hollowness. “Not that she had one.” “Oh kay.” Jen stepped back from the tapping with a half a swallow of bile and a frown, turned to the monitors with a quick deep breath, and watched Scott and then Jimmy begin to trace their hands over the back wall just like she did a few minutes ago. “Shit.” She made a twisted face at the bile’s sour taste and wiped the sudden sweat off her forehead. “I need to be somewhere else.” She took a slower and deeper breath, closing her eyes for just a second, and let it out. “Like, right now.” She dropped the old foldable cell phone with a soft plop onto a dirty linoleum floor and looked around the dimly lit and small, tight and cramped panic room, now noticing for the first time how cluttered it seemed with the videos and computers taking up most of the tiny space. “Shit.” She saw only a lot of construction dust and a black aluminum kid sized baseball bat, a half a case of individually wrapped off brand protein bars and two cases of bottled water marked emergency stashed in one corner of the three corner room. Where do you go the bathroom? She thought, looking around the room and seeing a small steel box with a white plastic toilet lid covering the whole thing under the desk, and made a twisted face. Great. Then she noticed the large blinking thumb drive hooked into the side of the computer and stared right at it. She swallowed again, but then smiled big at the thumb drive and pulled it carefully out, causing the video screens to immediately go dark and then start blinking on and off without stopping. She nodded and smiled bigger. Okay. “That’s right, Caitlyn.” Jen frowned as her eyes narrowed on the thumb drive now in her hand and shook her head. “You didn’t want anyone to see more embarrassing naked photos of you again so you decided to have everything recorded on a drive that only Horizon Security can open.” She nodded to herself and shoved the drive in the back pocket of her blue jeans before looking around the tiny and cramped panic room again for anything useful and frowned more. “At least it’s a start.” She flinched at a sudden and loud bang on the panic room door and looked at the now blinking monitor to see Scott and Jimmy pounding on the closet wall/secret door with their bare hands. Jen made a face at them, shaking her head at the locked door, and turned again to the rest of the small panic room with a focus on the foldable cell phone sitting on the floor that didn’t work. “Shit.” She stared down at it and then at the video of Scott pounding hard on the door with Jimmy looking through the ruined clothes, broken shoes and shattered accessories piled high on the closet floor for something heavier to break through the wall/door. “Fuck.” She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. You were a mediocre date, and you install a worse security system, Tyler, she thought, and started looking around the cluttered room a third time, noticing some discolored plaster on the back wall that hadn’t quite dried with the recent construction, and stared at it. Her eyes lit up a second later and she stepped up to the discolored patch of plaster for a closer look and almost a smile. There used to be a window right there. The pounding on the door got faster and a lot louder. Crap. They found something heavier. Jen turned and snatched up the kid’s aluminum baseball bat in the corner of the room without looking back at the monitors and headed back to the unfinished plaster work on the back wall where an unused window used to be. She tapped the new and discolored wall with her left hand, noticing its dampness and smiled more. Hollow maybe, or least not very strong. She almost laughed at the sight and feel of it, her face lighting up with a nod, and she then shook her head with a loud sigh. Jesus, I hope someone sues the shit out of them. She grabbed the bat with both hands together and pulled it all the way back, just fitting her swing into the small, tight and cramped space, and planted her feet hard on the linoleum floor about a meter apart to wait for the next hit from the other side of the door. Bang. Scott flinched and his head jerked back on the monitor as he looked up from his banging on the door, and Jen hit the new and discolored wall in the panic room again. Bang. “She’s trying to get out.” Jimmy looked up too with a giant frown, now screaming again, and turned to Scott with big, wide eyes, getting right back up into his face, and started nodding. “She’s...” “No kidding.” Scott brushed him off, pulling back on the extendable metal baton that he had started using on the door, and gritted his teeth before he hit the wall again, harder and louder. “Why do you have that retractable billy club again?” Jimmy stopped everything he was doing, his face straightening out as he took in the extendable metal baton and pointed two fingers at it with a lopsided smile. “I mean, it’s not like…” “It’s because not everybody loves you like I do, Jimmy.” Scott just stopped himself from raising his voice, giving him a long look, and pulled back on the baton to hit the hidden door again as hard as he could. He turned all the way to him, frowning big, and pulled back on the baton again. “And because I never know when I’ll have to break through a secret door in your girlfriend’s run down villa to scare a woman to death who’s causing you trouble because you did something stupid, careless or both.” “Yeah.” Jimmy laughed out loud. “I hope Jenny’s scared to death.” He looked past him, his mouth curled up at the corners, ignoring Scott’s deep frown and edgy tone, and let out another little giggle. “I hope she’s fucking terrified like a little baby gi…” “Great.” Scott made another face, turning away from him for a moment, and hit the hidden door again, hearing something inside it crack. He dropped the baton, stepping back to take in the damaged door for a second and then kicked it in hard, twice, to bend the middle of the door inward. “Okay, this might be a breakthrough.” He smiled at the sight of the door’s locking mechanism poking out, reaching his fingers and then hands into it, and managed to bend the door just inward enough to crack it open even more. “What is this, the third time, Jimmy?” He glanced back at him and took a breath. “And my second.” “It’s going to buy you another house, Scott.” Jimmy smiled very big, yelling again, and patted him on the back three times, giving it a quick circle rub, and then pointed to the battered and bent secret door. “So, cut the crap, and...” “Right.” Scott picked up the metal baton again and jammed the narrow tip of it into the now exposed locking mechanism of the secret door and shoved it in with both hands, as hard as he could, wincing at the effort for a second, but getting the mechanism to give and bend even more. “We better just hope that they didn’t install a land line in there.” “Based on that door I don’t think we have much to worry about.” Jimmy laughed out loud at the locking mechanism, letting out another lopsided smile, and stepped back as Scott started to leverage open the hidden door. “Although let’s hope Jenny doesn’t have a gun on the other side, right?” “What?” Scott stopped everything he was doing, shaking his head, and turned his look right at Jimmy with his own face contorting into three tight lines as he raised a finger at the still naked man. “Caitlyn owns a gun?” “Oh, yeah, that bitch owned a gun.” Jimmy kept grinning, raising two fingers high, and nodded very big without looking back at Scott. “Two, I think.” He shrugged and stared at nothing. “A pistol and a shotgun, that I know about.” “You think?” Scott said, yelling as his eyes went wide, and he turned to look at the battered and nearly open hidden door. “Jimmy…?” “Caitlyn liked to shoot, Scott.” Jimmy laughed again, grinning big now and almost looking at him, before he pointed back to the door. “What can I tell you?” He looked back at Scott now and shrugged. “And in case you didn’t notice, it’s gotten awfully quiet on the other side of this secret door, right?” He nodded big to the mangled door and to Scott. “I doubt Jenny’s giving up.” “I doubt it too.” Scott kept frowning and stepped back, reaching deeper into his brown leather coat and pulled out a Glock pistol from it. “What the fuck don’t you have in there, Scott?” Jimmy let out another laugh, noticing the gun with a giant smile, and pulled back on Scott’s coat. “A grenade? A stun gun?” He giggled and threw up both of his hands. “A freaking missile launcher?” Scott ignored him, now putting all of his focus in front of him, and raised the pistol high, kicking the mangled door open in one clean motion. The two men stepped forward and stared at the six blinking video monitors in front of them, seeing themselves and the rest of the big house on the various screens, shifting from inside the walk in closet to the driveway, kitchen, living room, dining room, the second floor hall, master bedroom and back again to the walk in closet. They both frowned at the monitors and then turned to the rest of the small, tight and cramped but now empty panic room. “Shit, where is she?” Jimmy said, stepping up and looking around, but staying half a step behind Scott. “And do you think she’s really got that gun?” “Only since you brought it up thirty seconds ago, Jimmy.” Scott pushed him back and turned to squint at the rest of the dimly lit panic room, seeing the monitors, the old cell phone and the old fashioned desktop computer keyboard before shaking his head at all of it. “What a crappy system.” “Yes, but what did you expect, buddy?” Jimmy threw up a hand at the tiny little room and pointed at the toilet with a laugh that turned into another giggle. “Caitlyn hasn’t worked in three years, unless you count those desperate foreign trips.” He nodded into a sigh. “Longer really.” Scott sighed too, but kept his focus in front of him, stepping all the way into the middle of the room now and seeing the computer and another monitor that flashed, ‘Warning. Recording stopped. Please install a new storage device. Warning. Recording stopped. Please…’ “Shit.” Scott frowned all the way, ignoring the morning light coming through the smashed up back wall of the tiny room, and darted for the second floor hall and the stairs to the first floor. “That’s not good.” “Fuck.” Jimmy half frowned and turned to the morning light and the slight breeze now blowing in from the barely person-sized hole in the back wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Scott.” He pointed to the outside world shining through the wall and onto him. “She got away, didn’t she?” He started screaming. “God damn it.” He started flapping his hands. “She got the fuck away, Scott.” The Dirty WorkThat’s right, asshole. Jen took in a very deep breath, shaking off a hot flash from her head to her toes, and ignored a sudden sheen of clammy, cold sweat spreading over her whole body as her heart rate hit at least two hundred beats a minute. I got away. She swallowed very hard, wiping away tears from her cheeks and the sweat from her forehead as she picked herself up from the hard, dry ground in the short and shabby browning bushes surrounding the edge of the big house. Then she looked straight up at the second floor’s smashed window leading to the cracked and broken open plaster wall with the tiny and terrible panic room behind it. Just barely, but… She stopped with big eyes, twisting her head all the way up and to the right to hear Scott barrel down the stairs to run to the south side of the big house and its kitchen before turning all the way north to see the garage and past it her beautifully close and too far away shiny Volkswagen cc 300 parked behind ten other shinier, ridiculous and garish midlife crisis automobiles at the end of the long cobblestone driveway. She frowned and started forward, stutter-stopping for a second toward her Volkswagen, but then stopped all the way and shook her head. No. It’s the first place they’ll go. She shook her head, making a face, and frowned more. And my keys are in a bowl near and on the other side the locked side door. A loud bang from a slammed door came from that side of the big house and she took off in the opposite direction. “Please, please, please live up to the stereotype of every greasy, slimy low life paparazzi, Jake.” Jen started running hard, making a quick sign of the cross over her heart and kissed her hand. She gulped down a breath of air and craned her head just high up enough to barely see above the hodgepodge of the browning bushes and hedges that bordered the front of the property and the quiet street behind it. “Show me how little faith and trust paparazzi have in humanity, and how strong your work ethic is by returning to try to catch an embarrassing front page shot of Caitlyn and Jimmy Roberts going at it like pretty dogs in heat.” She stopped running, looking out over the north side of the yard with a squint but saw no one and nothing, and her face sank into a deeper frown. “I will not only kiss you on the mouth and anywhere else you want, Jake.” She jammed a thumb toward the now exposed panic room behind her, trying to catch her breath, and nodded big to herself. “I will also give you the scoop of a lifetime.” Her face straightened out. “Because any and every confidentiality agreement I’ve ever signed is now out the door no matter what any slimier lawyers say today, tomorrow or forever.” She ducked under a large brown bush, seeing Scott run full out in a sprint to the almost closed front iron gate to scare away some very well hidden and very white teenage girls in school uniforms that she had missed, but still didn’t see any paparazzi or even other adults. Shit, he’ll circle around, she thought and turned around to the back of the big house, stopping to stare at the six high foot wooden fence that needed repairs plus two coats of paint and separated the back of Caitlyn’s property from the nearest and most annoying neighbors with young kids, and then looked past it to the rest of the neighborhood, city and world beyond the big house. “No.” She stood absolutely still and turned just a little to the west, noticing a red faux cottage that stood out in the distance from the other mostly pastel or brownish houses all around it, and shook her head, big. “No, not in a million years.” She turned back to half peek at the front of Caitlyn’s house, shaking her head more, and frowned again. “Not again.” She straightened up, forcing herself not to look back at the red faux cottage, but still took a half a step west. “He’s an asshole, and I said I would never speak to him again.” Her face twisted to the right and then the left. “Ever.” She heard the gaggle of teenage girls in school uniforms squeal from the otherwise quiet street and turned back to the not quite closed front gate, with Scott now on the other side of it, in the middle of the street, and looking both ways while ignoring a white striped minivan that sped by and just missed him. She frowned yet again, gritting her teeth, and turned back to the red faux cottage in the distance. She stood there and seethed for a second, taking another half a step west when she saw a tall and buxom teenage girl come racing around the corner of the east side of the big house and right at her. “Shit.” Jen pulled a fist all the way back, half bracing her feet on the brown grass, and almost swung. “Oh my God.” The buxom teenage girl’s eyes popped wide open at the sight of Jen as she skidded to a halt just inches from her. The girl’s entire face twisted outward, holding up her hands high in surrender, and started shaking her head back and forth very quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, quickly, almost yelling, and shook her head even more at Jen while hiding behind her raised hands without even looking at her. “I’m so sorry.” She got out even more quickly, almost blubbering, and half lowered her hands to her sides. “Honest.” She nodded big and fast with both of her hands now pointing to the big house and then beyond it to the front gate, the street and Scott. “I’m only seventeen and just wanted to see Cake and say, ‘hi,’ and some big and crazy looking white guy with a stick up his butt and some kind of club in his hand came out of the hacienda raging and tearing after us while screaming curses and chasing my friends and me away from the compound.” Jen blinked, repeating the girl’s last words to herself, twice, and lowered her fist as the girl’s large and wide eyes narrowed looking back at her while her entire face undid itself to turn into a giant smile. “Wow.” The girl stepped back from Jen, lowering her hands completely, and threw her arms up and down in the air around both of them. “You’re Jenny Alvarez, aren’t you?” she got out in a loud and frenzied whisper and pointed one finger right at Jen. “The Jenny Alvarez?” She blinked. “Caitlyn Kelly’s personal assistant and right hand for the last two years and five months.” She pointed right at her now with both hands, somehow smiling bigger, and nodded big six times in under two seconds. “You were in Cake’s People Magazine profile two years ago in January, the one with Jimmy Roberts on the cover about that woman who almost killed him.” She turned around to check both sides of the big house for Scott, but didn’t see him or anybody else, and pinched her left hand with her right before letting out a soft laugh and a loud whoop into the air. She looked right at Jen again, reaching out one and then both hands and almost touched her arm and leather coat. “She called you her true rock: a real life saver, smarter than a big sister and a better cook than her mother.” “Oh kay.” Jen took one of the girl’s outstretched hands in her own, squeezing it quick twice before pulling her forward, and started walking into the backyard and closer to the six foot high fence that needed repairs and two coats of paint and separated her from the freedom of the rest of the world. “It’s all right.” She pointed back to the not quite closed front gate, the street beyond it and the squealing teenagers still running in the street in front of the big house and away from Scott. “You’re not the first person to trespass.” She shook her head, breathing deep, and pushed back the hair coming out of her ponytail and getting in her eyes. “Not even today and…” “And you’re wearing the designer black lambskin leather jacket that Cake had on top of a genuine, wool Scottish kilt at the People’s Choice Awards three years ago.” The girl stopped them both immediately in their tracks, gawping at the jacket, and her already large face somehow expanded more. Then she reached out to touch the jacket with just the tip of her index finger, swooning for a second, and wobbled several feet across the backyard. “Yes.” She started turning red and grabbed Jen’s arm now with both hands, rubbing the jacket’s soft and worn sleeve between her index finger and thumb with one hand and half hugged her while looking right into Jen’s eyes as own her mouth fell open and twisted all the way to the right side of her face. “It looks and feels even better than I ever could’ve...” “Thanks.” Jen yanked her forward, ignoring the girl’s touch as much as she could, and double checked over her shoulder for Scott on both sides of the big house as she walked even faster to the back fence. “But…” “Is Cake here?” The girl followed, almost skipping next to her now with her left hand still holding onto the jacket and turned back to the big house with a long, deep look and a longer, deeper sigh. “Can I say ‘hi’ to her?” “I’m afraid not.” Jen wiped a tear and shook her head. “She left early this morning for a shoot.” She turned, still ignoring the girl’s touch as she squared her shoulders and her eyes narrowed at the red faux cottage in the distance. She then looked right at the girl and gave her a nod. “And will be gone all day.” She shrugged. “Sorry.” “Is it with JJ Abrams.” The girl tried to turn back to the big house but couldn’t resist Jen’s continuing grip or forward momentum. “I heard he’s a fan and understands that the internet has twisted her story all kinds of…” “She snuck out the back door earlier today.” Jen nodded more without slowing her pace and pointed to a back door that the big house didn’t have. “To the avoid the paparazzi and…” “We saw you chase off that homeless guy off before. The one in the creepy trench coat eating a burger.” The girl kept up with Jen’s hurried pace, gazing into her eyes with a big nod, and pointed back to the edge of the front lawn. “It worked because he didn’t come back.” That’s too bad, Jen thought with half a frown, pausing a second to take in the girl for a moment and notice that, like her, she was also about 5’ 7”, if a little curvier and had black and almost long enough hair even if it was sort of curly. She stopped them both three feet from the back fence, looking her right in the eye and leaned in close to her with her practiced smile. “What’s your name again, honey?” “Tammy.” The girl stared back and giggled, matching Jen’s now quieter voice, and breathed in deep, with her big smile somehow growing bigger and taking over her entire face. “Tammy Steinberg.” She pointed to herself with her free hand and then pointed east with a big nod and that still giant smile. “I’m from Short Hills, New Jersey, near New York City, but my school’s out here for a field trip, and I’m sorry, and I’m so happy you’re not mad at me…” “I know.” Jen raised a hand to quiet her down, holding up two fingers to her face, and then used them to point to the big house. “And I’m sure Caitlyn would have been happy to see you and your friends, particularly since you’re on a field trip.” She looked past her, nodding mostly to herself, and then turned back and gave her a wink. “You’re the reason she is who she is and does what she does.” “She was so good in ‘The Truth,’” Tammy said with bigger eyes and a bigger nod and raised her hands to her sides and then up near her head to take in Caitlyn’s whole compound around her before turning back to Jen with a shy smile, the smallest of nods and then got very quiet. “I mean, so good.” “She was, and I’m sorry she’s not here to say ‘hi’.” Jen glanced over her shoulder again for Scott, stifling a frown, and took off the jacket that fit her so well. She pulled out the pack of unfiltered Marlboros and Bic lighter in it, shaking her head at them for a second, and then dropped both on the brown grass at their feet. “But you know what?” She looked right at Tammy again, taking in a deep breath, and held out the jacket to her. “To make up for it, why don’t you take my coat?” “Wh… What?” Tammy couldn’t even blink. “Oh. My. God.” She turned all of her attention to the jacket with a squeal, her face nearly exploding, and she reached out to the jacket to almost touch it but didn’t. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. “I was just borrowing it until the Goodwill Truck came tomorrow anyway.” Jen shrugged with a sigh, stifling a frown, and redirected Tammy’s frozen body to slip the jacket gently over her shoulders, straightening it on the girl’s slightly broader torso and buxom chest, and stepped back to look at her in it. “And it’s cold this morning, you know, for Los Angeles?” She put on most of her practiced smile and pinched herself. “So…” Tammy closed her eyes as Jen trailed off, trembling from head to toe as she hugged the jacket tight around her, and just barely started breathing again. “You look good in it, Tammy.” Jen nodded and pointed to her. “Great even, and certainly better than me.” Jen gave the girl the once over, stifling a second frown now as she noticed that the jacket was already getting stretched out over the bigger breasts and broader shoulders, but then pointed back to the big house, the front yard and the street beyond it. “The problem is that blond guy, Scott, is head of security.” She managed to find half her practiced smile again. “And he’s just doing his job, you know, but he isn’t a big fan of fans, if you know what I mean, and...” “Right.” Tammy looked back at the big house, the front yard and the street beyond it, still hugging the jacket tight around herself and turned back to Jen with another nod and the giant eyes and smile. She swallowed. “I read about that on Cake’s website.” You did? Jen thought with a face, almost side eyeing her, but nodded too. “Look, I’ll tell Caitlyn, I mean Cake, you were here, Tammy. I promise.” She touched the edge of the leather jacket, holding on to it between her index finger and thumb for a moment, and then took a deep breath, letting go of it, and put on her full practiced smile. “She’ll be happy you like the jacket so much.” She stifled a third frown and another sigh. “I’m sure.” “Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you so much.” Tammy stepped up, invading all of Jen’s personal space, and gave her the biggest hug, wrapping her long arms all the way around her narrower torso, and squeezed her tight. “You are the best.” She leaned back, looking right into her eyes, and nodded even more. “Better than an older sister.” “Thanks, hon.” Jen nodded, half hugging back, and heard the faint, but definite sound of sirens in the distance. She turned to look right at Tammy, sharing a moment, and raised her hand with a thumb’s up. “I’m a good cook too.” “I bet.” Tammy let go of Jen and opened her eyes, hearing the sirens too, and turned all the way around to the front of the big house. “Oh my God.” She stared big, shaking her head as her mouth fell open, and started to cry. “I can’t get arrested again.” Again? Jen turned and stared at the girl, making another face, and then pointed her toward her shiny car at the end of the cobble stone driveway and behind ten shinier, ridiculous and garish midlife crisis cars. “The easiest and fastest way out is to the right along the driveway.” She nudged the girl forward to follow to where she was pointing. “You want to make sure that Scott doesn’t see you, though, okay? Or he’ll have a fit. Understand?” She nodded to the girl, staring at just the jacket for half a second, and wiped away half a frown. “But you need to get out of here right now.” “Okay.” Tammy started forward, beginning with a walk, but quickly sped up her pace to almost a jog. “Thanks.” She stared open mouthed at the long line of shiny, ridiculous and garish midlife crisis automobiles in the crowded cobblestone driveway for a second, stumbling on the stones for another second, and then turned back to Jen and smiled. “You are the best.” “You too, Tammy.” Jen looked past the girl to stare one final time at the soft, black, lamb skin leather jacket that two minutes ago fit her to a tee, made another face, and pushed more hair out of her face. “And remember to stay away from Scott,” she said, pointing to the gate, and shooed her further down the cobblestone driveway. She straightened up, looking right at the girl, and nodded big. “Run if you have to. Okay?” “Right.” Tammy nodded and headed straight down the cobblestone driveway now, slowly at first, watching for the approaching police cars, and then heard more sirens and began running, awkwardly but as fast as she could and didn’t look back. And I’m going to do the same thing. Jen watched the girl keep going for a few seconds, shaking her head, then turned back yet again to the red faux cottage in the distance with a quick frown and started trying to climb up the six-foot fence that needed repairs and a couple coats of paint. She skidded halfway up the side for a couple seconds, almost losing her footing, but managed to pull herself up and just get herself halfway over it. She balanced on top for a second, then lost her balance with one leg on either side of the fence before tumbling straight down into a mud puddle on the other side in the neighbor’s backyard. “Great.” She coughed up some loose mud, laying in a wet heap, and then righted herself and half sat up. She took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff, wiping off the rest of the mud from her face but not her tight white T-shirt or her looser blue jeans while getting up from the puddle surrounded by lush and green grass in one quick if awkward motion. She darted ten feet to a giant and intricate laminated wood playset built like a Hollywood pirate ship surrounded by well-watered shrubs and a tall palm tree right in the middle of it that was its mast. “Okay.” She slipped in beneath a blue corkscrew slide and a large white cloth sail, seeing a bunch of abandoned plastic toy swords and muskets at her feet, and nodded to herself with almost a laugh. Yay, spoiled children, she thought, shaking her head at all of it, and let out a quick laugh at herself. Who bugged the hell out of Caitlyn every single day with their birthday parties, playdates and just general rowdiness that comes from being 4, 7 and 10. She peeked beyond the wall of well-watered shrubs at the seemingly empty and sprawling ranch house now in front of her before tiptoeing to the front of the ship and a swing set with a more intricate set of white cloth sails before abandoning it, the shrubs and the palm tree and started moving again. She glanced back at this side of the shared fence that didn’t need repairs or two coats of paint before running to a small grove of taller palm trees and crouched in between them to take a longer look at the neighbor’s ranch house in front of her, and after twenty seconds still didn’t see anyone or anything. Catching her breath, she heard the cop cars pull up in front of Caitlyn’s compound, and her face tightened into three straight lines. “Shit.” She frowned big. That means everything’s hit the fan. Scott or Jimmy beat me to the punch and called the cops. So, they or the cops will soon find Tammy no matter how much she doesn’t want to go to jail again, who will tell them that I was just in the backyard, and now I’m not. She shook her head. The cops will then circle the block to try and find me and almost certainly will if I let them. She noticed her right hand shaking at her side and used her left to stop it. She breathed in deep twice and let out the second breath slowly. So, I have to get out of here before Jimmy, Scott and Jimmy’s legal team throw me under the bus for Caitlyn’s murder. She fingered the thumb drive in her back jeans pocket and started forward for the neighbor’s house, walking past it without looking at it or behind her and then into the still quiet and empty street now in front of her. She kept going straight across it to the next big house without stopping and walked through their easily opened front gate and into their back yard without looking back before wiping the tears from her cheeks and the sweat out of her eyes. She swallowed. I have to keep the drive out of Jimmy’s hands until I can figure out how to get Horizon Security to read it, and that means I have to run for at least a little while. But she stopped herself from running, forcing herself to walk through another backyard past another ranch house, came to another backyard fence and looked for the red faux cottage in the distance that was just a little bit closer. “Crap.” She frowned more at the cottage and climbed the fence, stumbling again at the top but only for a moment, and then steadied herself and avoided falling to the other side. She jumped down, getting low on the other side, and skulked in between the green bushes of the next neighbor’s backyard without stopping. She kept her eye open for any homeowners, police and kids who shouldn’t be around on a school day and kept moving. More sirens blared nearby, but Jen ignored them and hit the next yard, house and fence. She grabbed it and put up one foot, hauling herself to the top in one smooth motion and rolled over it to land crouching on the other side. Just like with Debbie and Teddy when old man Enrique chased after us when we rang his doorbell and ran like hell, she thought, standing tall for a second and almost smiling until she looked down to see her custom blue leather shoes sink into the mud on the edge of the recently watered lawn. Crap. Probably got my blue Chucks dirty when I was nine too. She sighed and raised her middle finger at the mud but only for another second. So, I better get used to it and move my ass. She looked up and started forward again. “Let’s hope Scott is having at least as much fun.” She turned to the red faux cabin in the distance that was just a bit closer now and closed her eyes and clenched her fists. “Son of a bitch.” She looked again at it again, shaking her head, and spat on the ground in front of her. “I promised myself I would never see Nick again.” *** Of course the adventure continues. Read how Jen faces down Scott and Jimmy, ends up owing a crime lord a favor and learns that Hollywood is more venal, vile and vengeful than anything she could have imagined all while looking good. Just email Joe at joe@joestories.com and he will get the rest of One Cool Chick to you. |
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