15 Minutes

by Larissa Reinhart

  "I'm so excited y'all are doing your show here in Black Pine," squealed Jolene. "Your daddy must be thrilled."

  "Oh. My. God." My father would kill me.

  "Hello, Maizie," said Vicki, striding forward. One thin, tinted eyebrow quivered. She blasted me with her sea glass green lasers. "What happened to your nose?"

  five

  #Poor&Famous #FabuNot

  My plan to gain information on Sarah Waverly had been crushed. For the moment. Vicki had a habit of crushing plans. Unless they were hers.

  Vicki leaned forward for the double cheek kiss, careful not to touch for fear of smearing lipstick. Drawing back, she wrinkled her nose. "Have you been eating fried foods? Take some magnesium. Sweetheart, you know what it does to you."

  "What are you doing here, Vicki?" I said, trying to keep hysteria from my tone. "I thought we had an understanding."

  "They picked up All is Albright for another season. Surely Mickey called you. I never liked him as an agent."

  "Mickey didn't call me because I fired him. And because I left my phone in LA."

  "Thank God. You needed a new agent. And buy a new phone." Vicki gave Jolene a small push on her arm. "Get me a glass of pinot, honey.”

  I snagged Jolene's hand and clamped her to my side. "I don't need an agent anymore. I told you this before I left. I'm done. And I don't want a phone. It's part of the new me. Like no Twitter, texting, or email. Not even Instagram. I'm stepping away from everything."

  "No phone?" Jolene blanched.

  "You do know phones are also used for calling, Maizie? You sound like your father." Vicki tossed her platinum blonde waves behind her shoulders. "He probably doesn't have a cell phone, either."

  "Who's your father?" asked Jolene.

  "Boomer Spayberry," I mumbled, sure that Jolene could put two and two together and realize the Spayberry working for Nash was me. Proving me immature and reckless. Proving the same for Nash. But I had a feeling he and Jolene had already covered that ground.

  "That makes you DeerNose royalty and a celebrity," said Jolene, seeming to have forgotten the addition of Nash's new Spayberry assistant.

  Vicki rolled her eyes. "Figures. Douse a coverall in deer piss and become an overnight sensation. That's famous for Black Pine."

  "Maizie's famous for Black Pine, too,” said Jolene, overcome with a Realtor's hometown zeal. "And we have other celebrities, too. Mostly from Atlanta. We’re now an 'it' location thanks to Maizie, DeerNose, and the fabulous surroundings of Black Pine Lake and Mountain. With the renovation and expansion of Black Pine Airport, the jet set can arrive by commercial flights as well as private aircraft. Luxury, beauty, and convenience in a remote mountain setting. Can't beat that with a stick."

  "Spare me the hard sell. I know Black Pine well enough," snapped Vicki. "Where's my pinot?"

  I raised a finger, commandeering a server with my Gucci curves. "She'll have a glass of wine," I nodded at Vicki. "And I would like another plate of fried pickles. Anything for you, Jolene?"

  Jolene smiled. "Instead of pinot, why don't we order Champagne? Sounds like we have a lot to celebrate. I almost forgot you're another Black Pine star, Vicki."

  I had to give props to Jolene. She had figured Vicki out quickly.

  Vicki tried to raise her eyebrows, but botulism prevented much more than a twitch. "Cristal?"

  The server nodded and disappeared in a burst of plaid. I glanced back at the bar and saw Tiffany and Rhonda watching me. I wasn't alone. I had friends. Sort of. I didn't need fried pickles. Although I still wanted fried pickles.

  "Maizie."

  I swiveled back to meet Vicki's glare.

  "We need to discuss the new season. I assume you're staying with your father?"

  "I fulfilled my contract, graduated from college, and now I'm getting a job. Per, you know, Judge Ellis's requirements? So no discussion is needed?”

  Jolene shifted her look between us. "Job? Are you back to modeling? Black Pine is wonderful for location shoots. We've hosted a number of magazine and catalogs—”

  "The state of Maizie's nose tells us her limited chances for any modeling jobs in the near future. And living in the land of saturated fats will end it all together.” Vicki accepted a glass of Cristal from the server. "All her adult commercial shoots have been due to her fame, not her looks. She has me to thank for that."

  Jolene grabbed a glass and clinked it with Vicki.

  I recognized Jolene as those supercharged with the ability to assess a bread-and-butter situation and join the correct side. LA was chock full of people loaded with that skill.

  "I meant my career as a private investigator. I'm on an assignment now, actually. I should be getting back to work.” I hoped Jolene wouldn't begrudge me the chance to work at Nash Security.

  With a quick pivot on my Gucci wedges, I trudged to the bathroom. Why did I even try to argue with Vicki? Vicki was the epitome of control. As Vicki became more powerful, my mess grew hotter. There was no defeating her, only escape. Evidently, two thousand miles wasn’t far enough. I’d have to avoid her until she had no choice but return to LA to start the new season. Without me. Because I wasn’t allowed back there.

  Thank God for small favors like a judge’s orders.

  If only I were more like Julia Pinkerton. She would have stood up to Vicki a long time ago. Julia had that type of swagger. Whereas my swagger was the kind purchased at Barney’s.

  In the bathroom, the ladies’ attendant noted my face, handed me a tissue, and opened a stall door. I'm not a good crier. I have pale skin, which morphs into a blotchy puff-fest within seconds of tears welling. Considering my nose was already three sizes too big, I didn't need more comments about my future in modeling.

  Not that I wanted to model. You just don't want to hear your face might break a camera lens.

  I commenced with the no-cry ritual. In the narrow stall, I pinched the skin between my thumb and pointer finger. Totally works. Learned it from a makeup artist. I pinched and breathed deeply. Sniffed a few times. And finished with three Tae Bo jab punches.

  Back to work.

  I left the stall tear free and returned the clean tissue with a twenty-dollar bill. “Hey, do you know Sarah Waverly?"

  The attendant dropped the bill into a basket and leaned against the sinks. "Mebbe. But I cannot say."

  The stall door behind us opened and a woman in another swishy maxi dress sashayed to the sink. She tossed her feathered blonde locks behind her shoulder and rinsed her hands in the running water that was cut on by the attendant. Leaning forward, the woman inspected her flawless makeup with a side glance to me.

  "I know Sarah Waverly," she said to the mirror. "Who're you?"

  "Maizie Spayberry," I said. "Who're you?"

  "Amelia Brooks. Sarah and David go to my church." She shuffled in her Tory Burch clutch, pulled out lip gloss, and pouted her lips.

  I watched her apply the gloss and thought about the thin ice I skated suggesting a church member might be having an affair. "Is Sarah doing okay?"

  Amelia whirled around. Her gleaming lips curled. Excitement lit her eyes and boosted her voice. “What do you mean? What have you heard?"

  "What have you heard?" I countered in a Julia Pinkerton tone. A bit high school-ish, but Amelia looked like she could relate. "Is Sarah having an affair?"

  "I don't believe it. Although I totally would if I were in her shoes. Luckily, I have no need for that."

  "Why would you have an affair if you were Sarah?"

  "Turn around's fair play, am I right?" Amelia wiggled fingers heavy in karats. "What's good for the goose and all that? Why do you think so many girls around here get a little on the side? They're bored, lonely, and looking to get even."

  My feelings for David Waverly took a nose dive. And they were already pretty low. "Does David know?"

  "I tell you what, if David finds out Sarah's cheating, she's in some serious trouble."

  The hairs on my neck rose. "Why? What would he do?"

  A
melia pursed her shiny lips. "Toss her to the curb, for one thing. Without a penny. David's a good ol' boy. Butter doesn't melt in his mouth, cause he's cold as ice when it comes to business. And marriage to David Waverly is business. 'Course he's worth a lot. They have no children and David Waverly has made no bones about his feelings on that subject. He's positively feudal."

  "How feudal?" I narrowed my eyes.

  "Not medieval. Just feudal." Amelia shrugged. "Besides, I doubt Sarah's seeing anyone. She's too quiet. Although still waters run deep, as they say."

  Poor Sarah Waverly. "I hope Sarah is okay. What does she do?"

  Amelia tapped a finger on her chin. “She's treasurer of the Tuesday Tees, our ladies golf club. I haven't seen her in a while, but we group by skill level now. She was treasurer for the DeerNose Charity Ball, too."

  That meant Daddy and Carol Lynn knew the Waverlys. I could find out more about Sarah and David Waverly at home.

  "So where do I know you from?" Amelia cocked her head.

  "She is Maizie Albright," said the attendant.

  "I thought you said you were a Spayberry," said Amelia. "I'm sorry. You look different than Maizie Albright."

  "It's the nose," I said. "It's a little swollen."

  "No.” Amelia tapped her chin. "You're bigger than I thought."

  "Taller?"

  "Just bigger.” Amelia faked a smile. "But you look great. Really."

  "Thanks." Amelia did not make me feel better about my future non-career in modeling. I pinched my thumb skin as I pushed through the bathroom door. By the time I got to the bar, I felt better.

  "How'd it go?" asked Rhonda. "Did that skinny girl help you learn something about Sarah Waverly?"

  "No," I said. "Another skinny girl did, though. I'm ready to go home."

  "Are you okay? You're looking a little puny," asked Rhonda.

  "Puny?" I said hopefully.

  "Under the weather," said Tiffany.

  "I'm fine.” I handed Alex my Black card. "I've got some information about Sarah Waverly to report to Mr. Nash. He'll be impressed, right? And just as soon as he writes me that W-4, I'll feel even better. And in two years I'll have the necessary training and then I can open my own office and get licensed. I'll be on my own for the first time. No directors, producers, managers, agents, or bosses. Totally alone. That'll be really cool, right? Albright Investigations. Or Spayberry Investigations. I haven't decided yet."

  My speech slid toward Valley as it sped up and tumbled from my lips. "I mean, it's not like I can't do this? My Crime Analysis professor said I was promising. And Detective Earl King said I was sharp. Well, he said Julia Pinkerton was sharp, but I’ve learned from her. I've been interested in private investigation work for a long time. Like ten years. I won the Kids Choice Awards two years in a row for Julia Pinkerton. That should count for something, right? I can do this, right? Become a detective like Julia?”

  “Sure." Rhonda flashed Tiffany a look. A "Girl, this girl is crazier than you" look.

  "Miss Albright?" The bartender leaned over the bar. "Do you have another card? Or cash?"

  "Why?" My fingers felt icy as I dug into my Fendi pochette.

  "This one's been declined. Actually canceled. I'm supposed to cut it up. Although, I can’t since it’s titanium.”

  "No. That can't be right."

  "You can put her charges on my bill," said the honeyed voice cloaked in steel. "For tonight."

  With my hand still inside my purse, I spun and faced Vicki. "Did you cancel my credit card?"

  "The one I cosigned when you were a teenager? Yes, I did. You claimed you were ready for your independence. I assumed that meant in total."

  "I don't have any income yet. I need that card."

  "I guess you should have thought about that before you moved out. And it's not like you didn't earn anything from All is Albright."

  "I had to pay off my student loans. And those...other bills."

  "Maybe you should talk to your father about extending you a loan. Or you can still sign on for Season Four. The producers agreed to help you with your,” she mock quoted, “‘other bills.’”

  "You're one of the producers. You’re doing this to try to get me back on the show."

  Vicki shrugged. "By the way, because you have no phone, you haven't noticed the calls from the Jaguar credit people. They contacted me. And I told them where they could find you."

  I gasped. "You sicced the repo guys on me? I need a car."

  “Really, Maizie." Vicki sighed. "You've tried quitting before and didn’t succeed. You need to work. I guess I should at least be thankful you're not partying this time. Or dating drug dealers." She studied the Gucci dress. "Although it seems you've transferred your addiction to a new substance. Keep it up and you're going to need a whole new wardrobe."

  "Hey." Tiffany hopped off her stool. "Maizie's trying to work. She's got a whole plan figured out. She just needs a little time."

  "And she didn't mean to eat all those fried pickles. That's what fried pickles do to you," said Rhonda.

  Vicki's eyebrows strained. She flicked a glance off Tiffany and Rhonda and set me in her green crosshairs. "I see you're still picking up strays. At least in your last fit of rebellion, you chose Beverly Hills trash."

  “Tiffany and Rhonda have been really nice to me."

  "Can I get your autograph anyway?" Rhonda waved a napkin at Vicki. "I watch the show all the time."

  "Who are you?" asked Tiffany. "I don't watch that show."

  Our voices chimed in unison.

  "Maizie's manager."

  "My mother."

  Vicki ripped me one last scathing look and stalked off.

  six

  #workworkout #supershizzles

  I sat in my adorable blue Jag, pinching my thumb and breathing and doing my best to direct my thoughts toward positive affirmations. Wyatt Nash's dark building, odorizing the night with donuts, calmed me. Which was why I hadn't driven directly to the DeerNose cabin. My new life hadn’t started off the way I’d thought. I knew I’d need a job, but now it also looked like I needed money.

  I had lived a sheltered life. But frighteningly unsheltered in other ways. That’s what Hollywood does to you.

  A rumble penetrated the donut air. The Silverado pulled into the lot beside me. Nash clambered out of his truck and strode to my car.

  I hopped out of my car, hoping Wyatt Nash was in a better mood than earlier.

  "Do I need to file stalking charges, Miss Albright?"

  He wasn't in a better mood.

  "Mr. Nash." I smiled. "I wanted to tell you what I've learned about Sarah Waverly."

  Nash halted a few paces from me. He had changed again. Back to the jeans and a black Guns N' Roses t-shirt that clung to his biceps and shoulders.

  My trainer would be super impressed.

  "What have you been doing?” he said.

  "Hanging out at the Cove. I spoke to someone who knows Sarah Waverly. And also to some staff, but they wouldn't tell me anything."

  "Why?"

  "They probably worry about their jobs. If the members found out the employees gossip, they could complain and have them fired."

  "Not why wouldn't the staff tell you anything. Why are you asking about Sarah Waverly at the Cove?"

  "I wasn't going to take the night off just because I was meeting friends. That's how dedicated I am."

  Nash looked toward the stars and muttered a few unpleasant phrases. He lowered his gaze back to me. "What did this person who knows Sarah Waverly say?"

  "She couldn't believe Sarah would have an affair, although it sounds like David does. He's feudal and cold and planning to divorce her anyway. I'm really worried about Sarah Waverly."

  "You don't know Sarah Waverly so there's no reason for you to be worried about her."

  "I worry about a lot of people I don't know."

  "I'm sure you do."

  "Do you want me to type up what I heard for your report?"

  "No. I want you to go home
." He took a long step toward me, backing me into the Jag. "Are you in cahoots with Jolene? Why did you try to keep David Waverly on as a client when I told him I was done?"

  "Cahoots?" I glanced at the building, noting the unfortunate absence of light in the neon "hot & fresh" sign. "Actually, this is very awkward. But I think Jolene's fallen into the Maizie-back-to-work-as-an-actress camp. Because she met Vicki. And Vicki is very persuasive. Now Miss Sweeney will most likely try to talk you out of hiring me. Please don’t listen to them, Mr. Nash. You need an assistant. I need training."

  He had opened his mouth at the mention of Jolene, then shut it. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. He stepped back and turned toward the building. "Good night, Miss Albright."

  "Can I continue my surveillance of Mrs. Waverly for you?"

  "Do what you like," he said, waving a hand behind him. "As long as you stay out of my hair. And keep your celebrity business to yourself."

  I was officially on the case and out from under Vicki's thumb. Life couldn't get better. Except for the lack of money and repossession of my car. That kind of sucked. But silver linings and all that.

  The next morning, I headed toward my first surveillance assignment. I left the top down on the Jag to better smile and wave good morning to the friendly Black Piners as I made my way toward Platinum Ridge, subdivision home of the Waverlys. Black Pine spread from the base of Black Pine Mountain, edged along Black Pine Lake, and trickled into the countryside.

  On the far side of the lake, the DeerNose estate is hilly, mostly wooded terrain. Oodles of acres. From Daddy's dock, we have an excellent view of the mountain, which you can see on the DeerNose website. When I had bouts of homesickness, I used to Google DeerNose on the old MacBook and gaze at the majesty of Black Pine. Not that it's a big mountain. More like an oversized hill. But still pretty.

  The security attendant, Hector, took down my license plate number and waved me through the gates of Platinum Ridge. The one-acre lot homes on Platinum Ridge tended toward large, multi-winged, multi-storied, stone and brick boxes. With lots of windows.

  The Waverly house was no different. A long drive led toward a three-car garage attached to the stone house. Continuing down the street, I looked for an ideal stakeout spot. But the trees had been artfully arranged in the yards, leaving the street exposed. And this neighborhood wasn't one to have cars parked on the road without appearing obvious. No places to hide.