Keatyn Unscripted (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 8)

by Jillian Dodd

  “You really decided not to go?”

  “I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.”

  Cooper smiles. “Good to hear. Keep your head down and let’s get back to the hotel.”

  We spend the rest of the day in the hotel suite. Through a bunch of complicated maneuvers, Cooper got Damian here without being followed. Knowing Damian wants to stay in Connecticut with Peyton for a few days before going to Miami, we had a discussion about where he would stay. Cooper didn’t think it made sense for him to check into a hotel like he had planned, in case the hotel staff recognized his name, so he offered a solution. To let Damian stay in his faculty quarters on campus. Since his stuff is all still there, no one will be using it. And it will work out well, provided Peyton can sneak him in. He promised once he got there not to step foot outside, citing that it would give him some quiet time to write. Peyton says she can make sure he’s fed and watered, so to speak.

  Although I’m a little iffy about their plan, Cooper seems to think it will work and I’ve come to the realization that I can’t control everything.

  Kind of like my scripts that no one would follow.

  Aiden isn’t thrilled about going back to school without me, but he’s very relieved that I’m not going home today.

  But I feel like I’m letting Brooklyn down. Breaking a promise.

  My gut tells me I had to.

  But that doesn’t make it any easier. Aiden’s been trying to take my mind off Kiki and my fight with B by keeping me entertained. We’ve played cards, listened to music, watched movies, and ordered room service.

  As midnight approaches, I’m getting fidgety. I’ve tried to call Brooklyn every hour since nine, which would have been six, seven, and eight o’clock his time.

  “He met with his mom at six. It’s been three hours,” I say aloud, interrupting the movie we’re watching.

  Aiden presses pause. “If he hasn’t seen his mom in years, they probably have a lot to talk about.”

  “Plus, he’s mad at you,” Damian adds. “You know how he gets. He’s probably ignoring your calls.”

  “You’re right! You call him!”

  “Fine, but if he doesn’t answer, I don’t want you to freak out. He’s probably still with his mom.”

  “Just try.”

  Damian gets out his phone, hits a few buttons, and puts it up to his ear. “Straight to voicemail,” he says, hanging up.

  “Why don’t we order some dessert?” Aiden suggests.

  Peyton goes, “That sounds yummy. You know you love chocolate!”

  “Chocolate makes everything better,” Cooper says, quoting what I usually say.

  I’m lucky they’re here. I’m a basket case as it is. I can’t imagine how I’d be without their wonderful distraction.

  “I agree. Let’s order dessert.”

  The dog is on its way here, ready to play its role in the movie. There are many ways, literarily, to make a character likable—like allowing the audience to see a bad guy helping an old lady across the street or being kind to an animal. Which is where the dog fits in.

  Vince will have a dog in the movie. One he adores.

  Instead of being seen as the bad guy right away, this will add a plot twist the audience doesn’t see coming. Even though they aren’t sure if they should, they won’t be able to help but react cordially to Vince.

  Which means that it’s now time for round three.

  And based on what he’s observed recently, Matt will be easier to obtain than the dog was.

  We are finishing up our dessert when my phone rings.

  “It’s Brooklyn!” I say, supremely relieved to finally hear from him.

  “Hey, B! How did it go?”

  “Are you not with him?” his dad says. “I thought the two of you were meeting me at the house at 8:30 to talk. Where are you?”

  “I’m in New York. Is he not back yet? Wait, you called me from his phone.”

  “Yes, that’s why I called you. I thought you were with him and I couldn’t get ahold of him because he left his phone here. Why didn’t you go to dinner with him? Does that mean he went alone?”

  “I assume so. I tried to talk him out of going. Told him it was too dangerous for us to be together in Malibu.”

  “He’s should be home by now. Do you know where they were meeting?”

  “They were going to Buddy’s. Hang on, let me use my friend’s phone and I’ll call there.”

  I grab Cooper’s phone, look up the number for Buddy’s, and call it.

  “Hey, is Darlene working tonight? Could I speak to her?”

  A few minutes later, our usual waitress answers.

  “Hey, this is Keatyn. I don’t know if you remember me but I always used to come in and get spicy shrimp with Brooklyn.”

  “I remember you. He was here tonight. Told us all about how he’s been off surfing.”

  “Is he still there?”

  “Uh, no. He left quite a while ago. He met with an older woman. It seemed sort of awkward, like he didn’t know her well. She didn’t stay long. He ordered dinner and had a couple of beers after she left. Seemed upset. Picked at his food. Left around seven.”

  “That was two hours ago. Did he happen to say where he was going?”

  “No, he didn’t. Oh, wait. Maybe. He said something about clearing his head with a walk on the beach before he had to go deal with his other parent. Was that lady his mom? Now that I think about it, they did share a resemblance.”

  As she continues talking about their blonde hair and blue eyes, I whisper, “He left two hours ago.”

  “How would he have gotten there?” Cooper asks.

  “Darlene, did you notice if Brooklyn had his motorcycle helmet with him?”

  “Yeah, he did. He even mentioned how good it was to ride it again.”

  “Okay, thanks for all your help.”

  “You’re welcome. Don’t be a stranger.”

  I hang up and go back to my call with B’s dad. “You probably heard part of that. He left a couple hours ago. Is his bike home?”

  “His Jeep is in the garage but his bike is gone. Sounds like things didn’t go well with his mother. Not that it’s a big surprise. I tried to warn him. He’s probably riding around, blowing off some steam.”

  My mind immediately flashes to Vincent’s words. I’ll take away everything you love.

  “Remember the hostile takeover Brooklyn wanted to help me with?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It was announced yesterday. I fired Vincent from his own company. He threatened everyone I love and even had our dog kidnapped. I’m really worried about Brooklyn. Please call me the second he gets home.”

  “If you ruined everything we’ve worked so hard for, he’ll never forgive you,” his dad says coldly.

  “Mr. Wright, his surfing career should be the least of your worries right now. You should be more concerned about his life.”

  “Are we being a little dramatic?” he asks.

  My phone buzzes with a notification. I’m trying to control my temper, so I peek at it and see B’s name.

  “B just messaged me. He’s okay.”

  “What did he say?”

  I toggle over to my Skype notification.

  Brooklyn: Skype me now.

  That’s weird.

  “Um, he wants to video chat with me. Are you sure he’s not up in his room?”

  “Uh, I don’t think so, but maybe I didn’t hear him come home. I’ll go check.”

  I run to the bedroom, sit at the desk, and power up my laptop, thankful that Aiden thought to bring it from the loft.

  I bring up the program, see B’s smiling face next to the word Online, and click to call him.

  I’m just so thankful he’s okay. He probably snuck in because he didn’t want to deal with his dad. He’s probably going to tell me he’s sorry for hanging up on me and how awkward it was with his mom.

  As the screen shows him answering, I smile.

  But then my heart stops beating w
hen Vincent’s face shows on the screen instead.

  He gives me a chilling smile. One that makes my whole body shiver.

  “We have the dog. We have Matt,” he says. “As soon as we have you, we’ll commence filming.”

  Matt? Lacy’s boyfriend in the movie?

  Did he cast Brooklyn as Matt?

  No. He’s probably just trying to freak me out. Probably stole his computer since I destroyed my phone and he needed another way to get in touch with me.

  But how did he get Brooklyn’s computer?

  I imagine the scene at Buddy’s.

  B’s distracted and talking to his mom.

  Someone grabs his backpack.

  Although, I don’t know why he’d take it to dinner.

  No, wait. I do. He’d want to show his mom videos of him surfing.

  I look Vincent straight in the eye. “Who did you cast as Matt?”

  A smirk plays on his face. The first show of emotion I’ve seen. “Your boyfriend, Brooklyn, of course.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Vincent narrows his eyes at me. The emotional mask returning.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Aiden and Cooper come into the bedroom.

  I pretend to adjust my laptop screen, but instead I hold my hand out past it, gesturing at them not to come any closer.

  My eyes are glued to the screen, Vincent and I locked in an online staring match.

  Finally, he blinks and says, “You want to see who I cast? Is that it?”

  “Yes, Vincent. I need to know who my co-star is before I’ll sign on to the project.”

  “Very well.”

  There are blurs across the screen as Vincent moves the laptop away from his face.

  I can’t make out anything until the movement stops.

  Then there is a single image.

  Brooklyn. Lying on a mattress motionless.

  I quickly take a screenshot.

  “Believe me now?” I hear Vincent ask.

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “As you can see, he can’t talk right now. He’s asleep.”

  “Asleep or dead?” It’s hard to tell. I can’t see him breathing.

  There are more blurs then Vincent’s face. “Come home,” he says then ends the call.

  Tears stream down my face as I stare at the blank computer screen.

  I shake my head.

  I expected Vincent to kidnap me at some point.

  I was prepared for it.

  I didn’t expect this.

  What am I going to do?

  Cooper clears his throat.

  I look up at everyone waiting expectantly in the doorway.

  “He’s got Brooklyn,” I say, crying hysterically. “He’s got Brooklyn.”

  Brooklyn comes to, the drug working its way out of his system.

  “Tell me where she is,” Vincent orders him. “I need to go get her.”

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re on set. Filming will commence as soon as we have our costar. She knows I have you. I know she’s been manipulating the press, so that I will think she doesn’t love you. But I know better. I suspect she will be coming home soon.” He pauses to add some drama. “Of course, that’s not necessarily a good thing for you.”

  “Why not?” Brooklyn asks, groggily, things not really making sense. He has no idea where he is or how he got here, but he does recognize Vincent. He can see he’s in some sort of concrete room with no windows.

  And he knows it’s not good.

  “I know you know where she is.”

  “I won’t tell you,” Brooklyn says.

  “Then your time here will be filled with pain,” he says, backhanding his captive.

  What follows is a night of complete chaos.

  Fits of anger.

  Calls with Garrett.

  Pacing with worry.

  Calls with my family.

  Uncontrollable crying.

  A call to B’s dad.

  As if I wasn’t already feeling guilty enough, his dad flat-out blamed me.

  Yelled at me.

  I tried to explain, but it didn’t matter.

  And it doesn’t.

  He’s right.

  It’s all my fault.

  By midnight in California, Brooklyn has taken a fair amount of beating.

  And still hasn’t talked.

  Vincent lets him know that he will die soon anyway, gives him another shot, then leaves the safe room.

  By three in the morning East Coast time, Damian and Peyton have fallen asleep on the couch, Aiden is pacing across the living room floor, and I’m sitting in a chair across from Cooper trying to convince him that I should do exactly what Vincent wants me to do: go home.

  My phone rings with a call from Garrett.

  I quickly grab it off the coffee table and answer with, “Did you find him?”

  “No, we haven’t. I’m sorry,” he says.

  By this time, I’m done crying. I’m just straight pissed.

  “How am I supposed to believe that you’ll be able to keep anyone I care about safe?”

  “I can only do so much, Keatyn. Brooklyn refused security the whole time he was in Malibu. And, believe me, we tried to talk some sense in him. We even did as you asked and watched the house and followed him wherever he went.”

  “Were they watching him today?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Brooklyn called the cops on them a few hours before he left for dinner. My men were at the police station getting things sorted out.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. Did the two of you fight?”

  “Yes. He was really upset when I told him I wasn’t coming there.”

  “You were planning to?”

  “Yeah. He wanted me to go with him to meet his mom. When we found out about Kiki, I called him. Begged him to reschedule. Told him it wasn’t safe. He wouldn’t listen to me. Then I suggested that it could be a set up. That’s when he hung up on me.”

  “We located his mother and interviewed her.”

  “So it wasn’t a set up?”

  “No.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That they talked. That she was so excited to see him but that it was more awkward than she imagined. I think she had grand images of the little boy she left rushing into her arms.”

  “Do you know the real story?”

  “Brooklyn’s father said she’s bipolar. That, back then, the disease wasn’t as widely understood. They diagnosed her with depression but she wouldn’t take her medicine. When she didn’t, she was all over the place. Crying for days, then, the next, getting dressed up and maniacally shopping. She’d have fits of anger, too. In one of those fits, she pushed B down the stairs. He was fine, just a broken wrist, but that’s when his dad knew he had to do something. He had her charged with child abuse, filed for divorce, and got the court to issue a restraining order.”

  “That’s sad. But I can see why his dad just let him think she left. It was easier than trying to explain everything else. We have to find him, Garrett. As soon as I get off the phone, I’m heading to the airport. I’ll see you soon.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “I won’t see you?”

  “Keatyn, would you like me to use every resource I have available to search for Brooklyn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I need you to go back to Eastbrooke.”

  “I can’t go back there.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “But everyone knows who I am. I’m still the one Vincent wants. I can’t put Eastbrooke in that kind of danger. I can’t go back!”

  “We successfully kept everything off social media. Vincent would’ve already gone there if he believed you were there. It’s safe. That’s why we sent you there in the first place. And I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you. I need all our manpower focused on finding him.”

  “But
you have the police. I sent you the screenshot.”

  “Keatyn, the screenshot doesn’t really prove anything. You didn’t get any photos of Vincent. Had you recorded the call it would be a different situation. We would have some proof. All we have is a photo of a young man lying on a mattress. It doesn’t prove he was kidnapped. It doesn’t tell us who kidnapped him. It helps that his dad believes you and reported him kidnapped, but since there is no proof of that either—”

  “What kind of proof do they need?”

  “They interviewed the staff at the restaurant. No one saw a struggle. No one saw anything or anyone remotely suspicious. The police see a young man who is upset with his father and didn’t come home. Now, the fact that his motorcycle is still at the club helps us a little, but the police work at their own pace.”

  “I thought you had guys following Vincent. Where the hell is he?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “What the fuck, Garrett? How can you not know?”

  “Our men report that Vincent has been in his home since you fired him.”

  “We know Brooklyn is with Vincent. So, if Vincent’s home, someone got Brooklyn and took him to Vincent. They’re probably in his house! Go get him!”

  “We tried that. I called in a favor with the police. Got them to agree to question Vincent. They went to his home, but Vincent didn’t answer.”

  “So they just left?”

  “The police can’t search a property without a warrant unless they have just cause. When they looked in the windows, they reported seeing a room trashed in a way that indicated a struggle. They suspected Vincent might be hurt, so they broke the door down and went in.”

  “What did they find?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did they search for clues?”

  “They didn’t. But after they left, one of my guys may have had a look around. He came up empty. There wasn’t one shred of evidence that would suggest he was obsessed with you or your mom. No photos. No magazines. Nothing. Which is a bit unusual in cases like these. Do you remember anything from your video chat? Did you see anything or notice any details that could give us a clue as to where he was. What about sounds? Could you hear a city? The ocean?”