Since the incident, Felicia and Trace’s divorce had taken a backseat to the rebuilding of Trace’s shattered self-image. Just as Lexis had predicted, the arrest had brought the couple back together, effectively putting a grinding halt to any romance between her and the director. Just how temporary an alliance it was still remained to be seen, as Felicia found herself wondering if perhaps her marriage was revivable after all.
“Stephanie, I need you to call and cancel all of Gabrielle’s appearances for July third through the ninth,” Felicia said.
“Is she sick or something?”
“No, she’s going on vacation. She and Jack are finally taking a honeymoon, and they want it kept very hush-hush.”
A Fourth of July honeymoon, Stephanie mused. This could be interesting. There’s got to be something I can do to add a few fireworks to the trip.
“You can send out the press release on her Model of the Year nomination for the VH1 Fashion Awards. I made a few changes, and it’s back on your desk,” Felicia continued.
“What if we need to talk to her once this release goes out? How can we reach her? You know, for a quote or something,” Stephanie asked, trying to gather information without drawing suspicion.
“It will have to wait. She and Jack don’t want to be reached.”
“If that’s all, I’ll go start canceling Gabrielle’s appearances,” she said.
“That’s it.”
Dismissed, Stephanie headed straight for her office and picked up the phone. If Felicia wouldn’t tell her where Gabrielle was going, she knew who could. Quickly Stephanie dialed Bea’s phone number and waited impatiently for her to answer. Finally, after the sixth ring, she picked up.
“Hello.”
“Bea, it’s Stephanie.”
“Hello, dear, how are you?”
“I’m okay, though I have a little problem and could use your help.”
“Oh?”
“My apartment is being fumigated, and I was wondering if I could camp out at your place? Just for one night.”
“Sure, honey. When?”
“Thursday. Thanks, Bea. Hey, you know what would be fun? Maybe Gabrielle can come down. We can have a slumber party. It will be like old times in Brooklyn,” Stephanie suggested.
“She and Jack will be out of town,” Bea revealed, trying to remember any such slumber party in the brownstone.
“Where are they off to?” she asked casually, trying to save herself from having to spend any more time with Henny Penny than absolutely necessary.
“They want to get away by themselves for a short time.”
It was clear that Beatrice was not about to break any confidences, so Stephanie didn’t push the subject. She’d find out all in due time. “Oh, that’s too bad. See you Thursday.”
“Bea, you look tired. Why don’t you go to bed? There’s no need to stay up on my account,” Stephanie told the woman.
“I think I will turn in. You’re sure you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa in my office?”
“I’m fine, really,” Stephanie said, patiently waiting for Beatrice to vacate the room.
“Okay, then, good night,” Bea said, shuffling off to bed.
Stephanie waited ten minutes for Beatrice to settle into bed before beginning her search. She sat down and quietly rifled through the papers on the top of the desk, finding her bills and other personal correspondence but nothing about Gabrielle’s trip. In one of the file drawers she found a multitude of folders containing fan letters, autographed pictures, and personal-appearance requests. In the other drawer she found newspaper clippings chronicling most of Gabrielle’s career accomplishments.
Giving up on the desk, she stood up to move on to the closet. Inadvertently her thigh pulled open a narrow drawer located on the underside of the desk. She drew it open to find several photographs, some ballpoint pens, and a calendar book. Stephanie pulled out the calendar and leafed through the pages. She grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a few dates and places Gabrielle would be in the future. She turned to the dates in question and found exactly what she was looking for.
Vermont? What a cheesy honeymoon. Jack always was a cheap bastard. Stephanie jotted down the address before happily shoving the appointment book back into the drawer. Hearing the distinct sound of metal scraping against wood, she once again removed the datebook and ran her hand through the inside of the drawer. Her fingers got tangled up in a silky cord, and when Stephanie removed her hand she was holding a gold skeleton key dangling from an orange tassel. I wonder what this is for, she thought curiously as she peered around the room.
Stephanie got up from the desk and quietly opened the closet doors. There were several winter coats and other seasonal clothing hanging in the closet. On the floor, toward the back of the space, was a wooden chest. Stephanie pulled the chest into the room and inspected the lock. It made no difference that the key in her hand was too small, because the chest was not locked. She lifted the lid and dug around inside. The smell of cedar wafted up and assaulted Stephanie’s nostrils.
Trying to ignore the repugnant smell, Stephanie lifted out a blanket and several wool sweaters. Further rummaging produced a few personal trinkets—what looked to be some sort of sailor’s cap and an eight-by-ten pearwood box with a keyhole meant to be joined with the key in her hand. Bingo!
Stephanie quickly unlocked the box and poured its contents onto the carpet. Scattered before her was a band from an old cigar, a set of black onyx rosary beads, a sealed letter, and several old photographs of Beatrice and a young man wearing a uniform. Stephanie studied the pictures. So old Mother Superior did have a life a long, long time ago. Stephanie put down the photos and picked up the letter. She was shocked to see that the envelope was addressed to Gabrielle at the brownstone residence. Even more surprising was the fact that the sender was Doug Sixsmith.
Now, this is interesting, Stephanie thought. Why would Beatrice have an unopened letter from Doug to Gabrielle locked up and tucked away in her closet? Even more puzzling to Stephanie was why the letter had not been read. Jesus, if you’re going to go through the trouble of stealing a letter, you should at least read the damn thing, she thought as she flipped the envelope over and over through her fingertips. By the same token, to happen upon a mystery this intriguing and let it go without further investigation would be just as stupid.
Carefully she broke the seal, lifted the letter from the eggshell-colored envelope, and quickly read Doug’s letter. By the letter’s end it was finally clear what had really happened between Gabrielle and Doug.
Stephanie laughed aloud as she realized that she and Beatrice were now partners in crime. While her story in Star Diary had provided the catalyst for their breakup, Beatrice had made sure they stayed that way. Stephanie’s laughter stopped abruptly when she realized that had Beatrice kept her meddling paws out of things, maybe Gabrielle wouldn’t have married Jack.
She tucked the letter into her overnight bag before returning everything to its rightful place. Stephanie snickered to herself as she climbed into the sofa bed. Why in heaven’s name did Beatrice keep this letter? Why hadn’t she destroyed it or simply had it returned to sender? Why? Because, thank God, Beatrice was too unbelievably stupid to be true.
45
From the creek running behind their accommodations to the invigorating Vermont air, Gabrielle adored everything about Killington. She particularly loved their rented house. Its triangular shape reminded Gabrielle of a contemporary Swiss chalet. The front was faced in cedar shingles, while the entire back of the chalet was glass, giving them full view of the surrounding woods. The house was delightfully secluded, their nearest neighbors being over three miles away, giving Gabrielle the privacy she so desperately craved.
Inside, the chalet was split into two levels. Upstairs was a huge loft with the master bedroom and bath, while downstairs held the living room, kitchen, a smaller bedroom, and a half bath. A huge stone fireplace dominated the living room, adding to the rustic yet contemporary decor. Cera
mic tiles lined the floors, scattered with several colorful cotton rugs. The place was furnished in a mix of rattan and Shaker-style furniture. Several fans hung from the high, slanted ceiling.
Gabrielle and Jack were curled up together on the couch. More for ambience than warmth, logs crackled in the fire. Oil lamps were lit around the room and upstairs on the banister of the loft, making the house look as if the stars had come inside for the evening. This was the first night of their weeklong honeymoon, and both were feeling completely relaxed.
“I love you,” Jack whispered in her ear.
“If I shaved my head, would you still love me?”
“Of course I would. We just couldn’t share the same bed until your hair grew back,” Jack told her.
“Jack!” Gabrielle said, playfully hitting him in the shoulder.
“I’m sorry, you wouldn’t be the same without those curls.”
“What if I got fat?” she asked, getting up and heading into the kitchen.
“I can’t even picture you pudgy,” Jack said, unwilling to imagine his wife being anything other than drop-dead gorgeous. The Hollises were known in the press as one of the world’s “beautiful” couples, along with John Jr. and Carolyn, Will and Jada, Tom and Nicole. It was a reputation that Jack thrived on. If Gabrielle were to be disfigured in any way, would he still love her? Of course, would be his first reaction, but truthfully, deep down inside, could he be sure?
“Can you picture me fat now?” Gabrielle asked, walking back into the room with a bundle of dishtowels tucked under her shirt. She looked as if she were at least seven months pregnant. She stood in front of her husband, giving him her best runway poses so he could see her make-believe bulk from various angles. “So, what do you think? Does a little extra weight become me?”
“What’s going on here?” Jack laughed, still not quite catching on.
“I’m pregnant,” she told him, watching closely as the news sank in.
“You can’t be pregnant.”
“Here, open this,” she said handing him a small envelope.
Still stunned, Jack opened the pouch and pulled out what looked like three Q-tips with pink stripes. “I couldn’t believe it either, so I checked—three times. You see, we are having a baby!”
“This is fabulous. It’s terrific!” he yelled, giving his wife a bear hug. He wanted to have children with Gabrielle, though he hadn’t counted on starting quite so soon. Now that she was expecting, their timing couldn’t have been more perfect. With the announcement of her pregnancy, Jack was fully convinced that Gabrielle would now be his forever.
“I take it you’re okay with this?” Gabrielle asked, laughing.
“Of course I am. This is the start of a long line of Hollis/Donovan offspring.” Jack sighed contentedly.
“Just how many kids do you want?”
“Two. Maybe three. I hated being an only child, especially after my parents died,” Jack told her before putting his lips to her stomach. “Hi, Cashew, this is your dad.”
“Cashew? What kind of name is that?”
“I don’t know, I just figured the baby is about the size of a cashew nut right now.”
“It’s cute, I like it—for now. But what about real names?”
“If it’s a boy, I’d like to name him Kyle Alexander, after my father, and for a girl, Hillary, just because I’ve always liked the name.”
“I like Kyle, but Hillary Hollis? That’s a mouthful.”
“You have a better suggestion?”
“Kylie Helene. Kylie, after your dad, and Helene, after my mom.”
“I don’t care what we name her as long as she looks like you,” Jack said, pulling Gabrielle close. “I love you.”
Floating in an emotional whirlwind, Gabrielle had never felt closer to Jack than she did at this moment. “And I love—”
“Shh,” he interrupted. “Don’t say it until you really mean it. I know it will happen one day, but not today, not when we’re caught up in the emotions of becoming parents,” he told her. The fact that she was willing to have his baby was more revealing than those three little words could ever be. This child provided an everlasting bond between them, one that nothing and no one could ever break.
“Three Jenn Lane. This is it!” Howie announced.
“This tiny little cracker box is where she’s spending her honeymoon?” Stephanie said in disbelief. It looked nice enough, but it was certainly miniscule. Stephanie shook her head in disgust. According to Forbes, Gabrielle had made over $7.2 million last year, and still she rented this dumpy little cheese wedge for her honeymoon? Gaby had a lot to learn about the lifestyles of the rich and famous.
“Now what?” Howie asked.
“Now you’re going to drive me back to our house and then come back here and watch the place. If they leave, I want you to look around, check the doors and windows, see where we might be able to get in. Also, bring me back their garbage.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“We’re going to give Mr. and Mrs. Hollis a surprise wedding reception. One that it looks like they hosted themselves,” Stephanie revealed. She’d worked everything out while on the six-hour drive from New York to Vermont. Celebrities were famous for throwing wild parties and trashing places that didn’t belong to them. By the time she and Howie got done with the place, it would look as if the frat party of the century had just ended. Once this hit the news, Gabrielle’s reputation as the industry’s good girl would die a tortured death.
Howie dropped Stephanie off at the small cabin they’d rented six miles away. He loaded up his knapsack with his camera equipment and headed back to the chalet. He parked his Aerostar van down the road and hiked into the woods. The photographer walked about a hundred feet, until he found an inconspicuous spot where he could see but not be seen. Howie was there less than twenty minutes when he saw Jack and Gabrielle leave the house and pile into their Range Rover. He waited for them to clear the area before leaving his perch and venturing down to the house.
Howie took a slow tour around the property, not only looking for points of entry and the presence of an alarm system but also taking a few snapshots along the way. He started around back and found a sliding patio door that led outside to the deck. Howie tried pushing the door open. It was unlocked and moved less than an inch before refusing to budge anymore. He peered inside and saw a thick dowel sitting in the floor track, preventing any further movement.
Howie walked back around to the front of the house. Besides the door there were four large windows, too high off the ground to make entry possible. He tried the front door; it was locked also. On further inspection he realized that the lockset was not substantial, nothing that a quick jimmy couldn’t open. Howie returned to the side of the house and pulled the plastic bags out of the garbage cans, climbed into the van, and headed toward the house he and Stephanie shared.
“Well, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Stephanie said, dumping the garbage from the Hollises’ chalet onto the kitchen floor. Among the paper towels, yogurt containers, empty food cans, and the like, three small wands caught her eye. “Hot damn, Howie, we’ve hit the jackpot!” Stephanie screamed, holding up her find.
“What the hell are those?”
“Home pregnancy testers. It looks like Gabzilla is knocked up.”
“Those certainly explain these,” Howie said, holding up a box of unopened condoms.
“I hope she gets as big as a house and her nose swells up to the size of a pear. What is this?” Stephanie asked as she unraveled a scrap of paper. “ ‘Beatrice called.’ I wonder what Henny Penny wanted? I thought the whole idea of this little getaway was so the honeymooners could spend some time alone together.”
“They won’t be alone much longer.”
“Howie, I just got a great idea. You know those photos you took of Gabrielle and Salvatore Ciccone at the Fashion Plate?”
“The ones where he’s planting a nice juicy one on her for donating some of her outfits to hang in the resta
urant?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s dig them out. Maybe we could stir up a little speculation over who’s the father of Gabrielle’s baby. He’s pretty famous for knocking up glamour girls.”
“You really are the master of inference, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m merely the master of my fate.”
“Our fate,” Howie emphasized.
“Yes, our fate. Now, let’s get into town. We have to shop for party supplies.”
“We can do that in the morning. It would be a shame to let these things go to waste,” he said, holding up the box of discarded Trojans.
Why not? Stephanie thought as she accepted Howie’s kiss. Though he was not at all gifted, his dick stayed hard and he didn’t smell or drool. And God knows, all this plotting against Gabrielle had Stephanie keyed up and wired. She needed to release some of this tension, and it was either screwing Howie or going for a jog. The way Stephanie figured, if she was going to have to break a sweat, she might as well do it in bed.
Beatrice didn’t even wait for the dial tone before hanging up on Gabrielle. When Gabrielle called to invite Bea up to the cabin to celebrate her pregnancy, the news upset Beatrice for a variety of reasons. First, as much as the idea of being a grandmother appealed to her, Gabrielle was much too young to have a baby. She had miles to go with her career before settling down to raise a family.
Also, Beatrice was sure that having a baby so early in their marriage was Jack’s idea. He knew that his wife didn’t love him, and this was an attempt to rope Gabrielle in and keep her tied to him forever. Why couldn’t Jack just disappear? Then things between Bea and Gabrielle could get back to normal, and Gabrielle would once again depend on and need her as she had before he’d insinuated himself into their lives.
46
“I want you to get over to the house this morning and stake it out. Take the cellular so you can call me when they leave. I’ll drive over so we can ‘decorate.’ Make sure you pack lots of film and the video camera,” Stephanie said, barking out her orders. “And don’t forget to take back their garbage and all the trash we’ve collected from the neighboring houses.”
Read Between the Lies Page 35
