Keatyn Unscripted (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 8)

by Jillian Dodd

  Garrett: I think while he’s out of the country he is fine. I already suggested more undercover security for when he is back in the states. Promise me you won’t go see him.

  Me: I promise. I’m sorry, but that’s just fucked up.

  Garrett: My thoughts exactly.

  The whore’s movie is coming out soon. He’s seen the trailer sneaks. He’s heard the buzz surrounding the movie. He know she’s going out on tour.

  And he knows her schedule.

  It’s one thing to go with no makeup to win an Academy Award, but it’s entirely another to go without clothes. Grandmother once lost out to an actress who did just that, of course, back then what was considered risqué is much different than what it is now.

  His grandmother would be horrified of what Abby has become.

  His anger and frustration of not being able to find his star is starting to bubble over. He decides that the warning letters aren’t enough. He needs something more concrete, more visual. Something that will upset her more than words.

  He killed her first husband for her. He can certainly kill the next. And she needs to know it.

  He takes a laptop to his shed behind Grandmother’s house, pulls on his gloves, and makes something special just for her—a video of Tommy getting shot, of his head getting blown off in a slow motion movie.

  Abby can’t eat. She can’t sleep. She feels like she can barely function. Even though she knows Keatyn is somewhere safe, she misses her daughter terribly. And she feels responsible. She is responsible.

  The guilt is overwhelming. And although she hasn’t told anyone, the letters from the stalker haven’t stopped since they sent Keatyn away. In fact, they keep getting worse. Darker, more threatening. He suggests that no one in her family is safe from him.

  She has to protect her children.

  So she comes up with a plan.

  She needs to become the focus of his obsession, not her daughter. So she’s going to offer herself up to him. She’s going out on tour. She’s going to be highly visible.

  Garrett and Tommy both have an absolute fit when she tells them she’s going on tour to promote her movie.

  “But that’s the movie that set him over the edge,” Tommy argues.

  “I can’t stop my career because of a stupid stalker. I won’t!” she says, not taking no for an answer.

  She looks at Tommy and at her babies, who are all lined up on the couch with their puppy, watching a movie, and knows what she has to do. She was lucky that Keatyn got away from Vincent at her party. She knows next time, they won’t be so lucky.

  So she has no choice.

  She’s going to have to leave them.

  She just has to let it play out in the press before she does, otherwise, somehow, he will figure out the truth. And if he does, she knows without a doubt that he will kill Tommy.

  Vincent knows when Abby will be in New York. And he knows that’s where Lacy has to be. He knows she will see her daughter. This is too important of a job to leave to anyone else. He’s going to New York and he’ll follow Abby himself.

  And once he’s reunited with Lacy, the whore must die.

  Now that everyone has their dresses, we’re at a department store looking at jewelry, handbags, and shoes.

  Katie, Maggie, and Annie rush over to Peyton and me. “I just heard one for the sales girls say that Abby Johnston is here. In THIS VERY STORE! Can you believe that?”

  “Um, no, actually, I can’t.” My mom is here? Could that be true? Garrett did say she was taking a trip.

  “We’re all going down to the cosmetics department. That’s where she’s supposed to be. We’re going to go stalk her and see if we can get a picture with her.”

  Shit. I can’t go see her.

  But I want to see her.

  God, I want to see her.

  They all take off, but Annie turns back around to look at me. I’m still standing here, frozen in my spot.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Um, you guys go. I lived in LA. Seeing a celebrity isn’t that big of deal to me. I’m gonna go back and get that clutch I saw earlier. I think it would be perfect with my dress for the dance. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  She runs off and I slink over to the second floor balcony, where I can see down to the cosmetics and perfume counters. I spot Mom right away. There are two men, Ryan and Craig, in black suits trailing closely behind her. James is not with her, which is surprising. He almost always accompanies Mom when Tommy doesn’t. It makes Tommy worry less.

  Which means Mom made James stay with the girls. Which means she’s worried about them.

  Which makes me worry.

  I watch her stop to try on some perfume. She smiles graciously and takes a photo with a fan. I see my friends wandering through the cosmetics counters.

  I pull my phone out and call her.

  She puts her phone up to her ear just as Annie and Katie approach her. I watch her hold up a finger to them as she answers.

  “Whatever you do, Mom, do not say my name out loud. I go to school with the girls who are standing in front of you. They want your autograph.”

  “You're here?”

  “Yes. I’m hiding behind some clothes on the second floor balcony. I want to see you. Go ahead and sign the autographs. Annie is a huge fan. Then go upstairs to the lingerie department on the fifth floor, grab a couple things to try on, and I’ll be waiting in a dressing room.”

  “Sounds good,” she says and hangs up.

  I slowly back away from the balcony and almost knock over a rack.

  “Can I help you?” a sales clerk asks me.

  I jump. Look guilty. “Um, no.” I look at the escalators and decide I’d be better off going the back way. “Where's the elevator?”

  She points a finger toward the back of the store.

  “Thank you.”

  I quickly walk to the elevator and take it to the fifth floor. I grab the first four items I see and ask for a fitting room.

  I shut the door and drop to the little stool.

  I look at my hands. They’re shaking. I’m so excited and nervous to see Mom.

  Pretty soon, I hear Ryan speaking. “Yes ma'am, that's fine.”

  "Keatyn?" Mom whispers.

  I swing open the fitting room door. She rushes into the room, pulls me into a tight hug, and I immediately start crying.

  She smells so good. Like lavender, honeysuckle, and the ocean.

  We hug each other tightly and cry for a while before either one of us speaks.

  Finally, Mom gently pushes me away and looks at me. "God, I've missed you. And look at you. You look grown up. Your outfit is adorable. You put it together yourself, didn't you?”

  I smile and wipe tears from my eyes.

  “You were always better at fashion than me. I can't put anything together without Kym. So you’re just here shopping with your friends?”

  “Yeah. I got chosen for Homecoming Court, so I needed a dress.”

  “Oh, honey, that’s great! I’m so proud of you! So, you’re doing well?”

  “Yeah, I’m doing well. I actually really like school.”

  “Does that have something to do with a certain boy?”

  I grin, just thinking about him. “Yeah, it probably does. But all of it’s good. I’ve made some great friends. So why are you here in New York?”

  “I’m doing a couple morning shows tomorrow and a couple interviews today. Pre-release buzz for To Maddie with Love.”

  “How are the girls? I miss them so much.”

  She holds up her phone and scrolls through pictures of the girls. I start crying harder. I’ve only been gone a month, but I can already tell they’ve grown.

  But then she stops on one that causes me to start laughing through my tears.

  It’s Gracie. She’s apparently moved on to cold weather gear from her usual swimsuits, princess gowns, and angel wings. She’s got on fuzzy multi-colored striped tights, ladybug rain boots, the pink tie-dyed tutu I was wearing the
first time I met Tommy, and a long-sleeved T-shirt with pink hearts. Her hair is in pigtails and she’s holding a chalkboard with an arrow on it. The arrow is pointing to an adorable fluffy Golden Retriever puppy. The chalkboard has the words, Bad dog written next to the arrow. It’s so funny because the dog looks like an angel and you wonder if the dog should be holding a sign pointing to Gracie that says, Bad girl.

  We hear Ryan cough. Then he says, “Abby, we need to get going. You have that interview with Vogue.”

  “I can cancel it,” Mom says.

  “No, it’s okay, Mom. My friends are going to wonder where I am.”

  I hug her one more time.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  She smooths down the back of my hair and says, “I love you too. You should probably stay in here for a few minutes. Give me a head start so no one sees us together. I know people don’t recognize you, but if we were together, they might figure it out. There are a swarm of photographers out front.”

  I sit down and waste ten minutes on Facebook. See Annie’s newsfeed photo of the girls with my mom.

  I walk out of the fitting room, go through the lingerie department, and down the escalators. I’m just stepping on the escalator to the first floor when my phone buzzes.

  Annie: Meet us on the second floor back by the dresses. Abby came off the elevator and was surrounded fans. We're trying to get another picture.

  Shit. Mom’s not gone yet.

  I’m halfway down the escalator when all of a sudden I see Vincent step onto the up escalator.

  My heart starts pounding.

  I look around, trying to quickly assess the situation.

  Trying to remember everything Garrett taught me.

  Mom and her security are upstairs. I could go up there. But then my friends would know. Vincent would follow me. It’d be a mess.

  Vincent is messing with his phone. His head is down and I pray that he doesn’t look up.

  But just as I’m getting ready to pass him, he does.

  Vincent is looking at his phone, riding up the escalator. He knows Abby is here based on the paparazzi outside. He just needs to find her. He glances up and sees her.

  Abby.

  By herself.

  No security in tow. He reaches out to grab her hand. This is his chance.

  Our eyes meet and his widen in shock. His look of shock is quickly replaced with a scary smirk.

  He reaches out and tries to grab my hand, but I quickly pull it away.

  He leaps up, hops across the escalator, and is now jogging down the stairs after me, yelling, “Abby, wait!”

  Why is he calling me Abby?

  As I get to the first level, I can see out the front door. Mom was right. There are a mess of photographers waiting for her.

  A plan starts to form in my mind.

  Can I use them to get away?

  It’s the only thing I can think of.

  I slip my big black sunglasses off the top of my head and down over my eyes.

  I run fast out the front door as Vincent yells out again, practically on cue, “Abby, please wait!"

  The cameras start flashing. I rush through them toward the street. They let me through then turn their backs to the store, huddling together.

  Which blocks Vincent's way.

  The paparazzi.

  I haven't been photographed by them for a long time. They only seem to want pictures of cute little kids, not the gangly pre-teen that I used to be.

  What used to sort of scare me when I was little seems very comforting right now.

  They are protecting me from Vincent.

  I put my hand in front of my face as I hear Vincent yell out again. "Abby!"

  I turn around and see that he’s working his way through the crowd.

  The driver that I hired for the day is parked in the parking garage. There’s no time to call him.

  I spy a black town car idling at the curb. I dart toward it and open the door.

  As I'm getting in, I hear one of the camera men say, "That's not Abby, dude. It's just some chick in a wig pretending to be. They do that sometimes. Send out a fake. A decoy.”

  I run my hand through my soft hair wondering how he could have mistaken it for a nasty wig.

  I must need a deep conditioning.

  The driver yells at me. “I think you’ve got the wrong car.”

  Vincent breaks through the crowd and lunges toward the car as I slam the door shut and yell, "Go!"

  Vincent grabs for the door handle just as I slam down the lock.

  He stops and stares at me through the dark glass.

  The driver is telling me to get out of his car. Telling me he's not going anywhere.

  Vincent smirks again and lunges for the front passenger door.

  I scream at the driver, “Go! Go! Go! Please just go!” I lean over the top of the passenger seat and slam down the lock.

  The driver quickly pulls into traffic and says to me, "I got it. And in case you didn’t notice, we're going."

  I didn't realize I was still screaming.

  "So where are we going?" he asks. Then he starts rambling. "You know, I could get fired for this. Who was the suit? Did you steal something from the store? I'm not going to get in trouble for transporting a thief, am I?"

  I take a deep breath and slip off my sunglasses.

  "Whoa," he says under his breath.

  "What?"

  He shakes his head and talks to me in the mirror. "Nothing, but, um, I think now we are being chased by a cab."

  I turn around and see a cab riding our ass. See Vincent in the front passenger seat, pointing toward me.

  "Can you lose him?"

  He rolls his eyes at me and starts talking to himself. "Can I lose him, she asks? Can I lose him?"

  There’s a little space in traffic up ahead of us, so he stomps on the pedal, which causes me to be thrown back in my seat.

  "Buckle up, buttercup," he says, as he cranks up the radio and yells over the noise. "This is just like in the movies. I'm like that dude from Trinity, what's his name?"

  "Tommy Stevens," I say with a grin. I turn around and see the cab weaving in and out of traffic. "I think they’re still after us."

  We had pulled away from them, but now we’re stuck at a light.

  There are lots of people walking in front of us in the crosswalk. We can’t go anywhere.

  The cab stops just two cars behind us.

  Shit.

  I run scenarios through my brain. What will I do if they wreck us? What will I do if he has a gun and starts shooting? What will I do if aliens crash down in front of us?

  I’m ridiculous. I have no idea what I’m going to do.

  I close my eyes and try to think of a plan.

  “Um, I think the dude just got out of the cab,” the driver tells me.

  “What?!” I say, my eyes opening as I rip off my seatbelt and turn to look out the back window.

  Holy shit.

  Vincent has gotten out of the cab in the middle of New York City traffic and is slowly walking toward me.

  Not running like you would think he would be.

  Or maybe everything just feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

  “He’s getting closer!” I yell.

  "Don't worry. I've got this,” the driver says. “The light is going to turn green just about . . . now.”

  I’m jostled as the driver cuts across traffic, but my eyes never leave Vincent.

  Our eyes are locked on each other even though I know he can’t possibly see me through the tinted glass.

  He knows I’m looking straight at him. I can feel it.

  He mouths Abby then slowly puts his index finger up to his lips and kisses it. Then his hand forms a gun and he shoots the kiss at me.

  I want to scream.

  I put my hand over my mouth and shudder instead.

  Vincent just did what Cush did to me that day at his soccer tournament when he scored. I remember thinking how adorable it was. How he stopped in fron
t of everyone and shot me a kiss. There were no photos of me that day in the batch he sent after he tried to kidnap me, but now I know that he was there then too.

  He was everywhere.

  He’s chasing Abby in a cab. Yelling at the driver to go faster. To not lose that car. Throwing money at him, begging.

  He can’t lose her.

  She needs to take him to Lacy.

  Their eyes lock. He can feel it, even though the windows of the car she’s in are tinted. But then he realizes that she’s getting away. She can run, but she can’t hide.

  He raises his index finger to his mouth, kisses it, then forms a gun and blows it in her direction.

  I cross my arms in front of me, grab my shoulders, and give myself a hug.

  “I’m sure we lost them,” the driver says, breaking my thoughts. “Even if he gets back in the cab, they will cut over at the next block. But I doubled back the way we came from.”

  "Back to the store?"

  "Yeah. I have to pick up my ride."

  I realize I've been holding my breath and let it out in a whoosh.

  "So what's the deal? You don't look like a thief. "

  "I'm not a thief."

  "So why's that guy after you?"

  "Uh, bad breakup?" I say with a laugh.

  But then I keep laughing. Uncontrollably laughing. Then I start laughing and crying at the same time. This guy's gonna think I'm a lunatic. Probably will turn me over to Vincent himself.

  I pull myself together. "I'm sorry. Thanks for getting away from him. You're like my hero."

  He shrugs his shoulders in an aw-shucks way. "It's okay. So, what do you do?"

  "I'm a dancer," I say wondering where the hell that lie came from.

  He gives me a lascivious grin. "Oh, really? Exotic?"

  "No, I'm a Rockette."

  He nods his head at me. "Damn, that's cool." He makes another turn and I can see we are back on the street in front of the store. I notice the cameras are gone, which means so is Mom.