by Tripp Ellis
“Fuck that guy," I said. "You don't need him. You don't need anybody.”
“Yeah," she muttered, dejected.
"I'm serious. That guy doesn't have as much power as you think he does."
"He can badmouth me to everybody that matters in this town."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," I said.
"Don't tell Jack,” Scarlett said. "I don't want him getting upset. He'll tell me to come back to Coconut Key. I just can't deal with getting into a fight with him right now."
I glanced across the bar to Jack. She was making a big ask.
"I don't know what to do,” Scarlett cried. “Can you come out here?"
"I'm on the next plane. I'll talk to Joel, and we’ll get this sorted out. Have you made a police report?"
"No! I'm not doing that. That's career suicide. Nobody, and I mean nobody, will work with me if I start making those kinds of allegations."
"Just sit tight. And don't go back to his class."
"You don't have to worry about that."
I hung up the phone and called Joel. "We have a situation."
“Is this about Easton?" Joel asked. He already knew.
"What did he say to you?"
"He called, said he wouldn’t be able to work with Scarlett anymore. Said she had a bad attitude. Said she came on to him and offered to exchange sexual favors if he would advance her career."
"That son-of-a-bitch!”
"I gotta be honest with you, this isn't good.” Joel paused.
“He attacked her!”
Joel sighed. “Easton can be a little… aggressive.”
“So, this isn’t the first time this has happened?"
"Easton has helped launch the career of many aspiring actresses over the years. There are a lot of people in this town that are perfectly fine with a little quid pro quo to advance their career."
"You're not condoning his activity, are you?" I said, incensed.
"No. Absolutely not. What I'm saying… is that Scarlett needs to pick her battles carefully. If she wants to go scorched earth, that's fine. There may be repercussions. That's all I'm saying.”
My anger boiled.
“You understand, this puts me in an awkward position. You're my client. I like you. We've made good money together. I think we have the potential to make a lot more. I took Scarlett on because you asked me to. I like her, and I think she has potential in this industry. I wouldn’t rep her if I didn't think she had what it takes. But I know that she's on probation, and she’s had issues in her past. If what she says happened, I believe it, but if I go to bat for her, it could have ramifications against me and the agency. I know that sounds messed up. But right now, it's he said, she said.”
“In the current climate, it could have negative ramifications for your agency if you dismiss her claims."
"I am aware of that as well." Joel sighed. "It's up to you. Right now you are up-and-coming. You’ve got a little heat with this recent sale, and the studio wanting to produce a television show. If the Bree Taylor story is a hit, you can write your own ticket. I'm not sure I would jeopardize that right now."
“You’re not really suggesting I keep my mouth shut to save my career, are you? I don't care about any of that."
"I like a man with integrity. It's rare around here."
"I'm heading out on the next flight. We can talk more when I get to Los Angeles."
"Take the flight, talk to Scarlett, see how you two want to handle this. I'll stand behind you both whatever you decide."
"Thanks, Joel. I appreciate that. This guy can't continue to behave that way."
"For your own sake, just make sure she is telling it exactly as it happened."
27
This time I didn't have a private plane at my disposal. I looked at flights online, and it was a nightmare. The last flight left Coconut Key at 9:30 PM. There was a stop in Chicago, and the flight would arrive in Los Angeles at 11:30 AM.
Not my first choice.
There was barely enough time to make it back to the Vivere, pack a bag, and get to the airport. I made some excuse to Jack about an emergency production meeting with the studio. He didn't really pay attention. He was more than happy to stay at Wetsuit and ply his craft.
I caught a cab back to the marina, gathered my things, and left Buddy and Fluffy with Madison. I felt bad keeping the situation from JD, but after his recent heart episode, I figured he didn't need the added stress.
I bought a first class ticket. The flight wasn’t full, and I was able to snag a deal online. I boarded the plane, took my seat, and we were wheels up by 9:35 PM. With any luck, I'd be in Los Angeles by noon.
A pretty blonde named Kennedy took my drink order. She told me I had a meal choice of either chicken parmesan, or lasagna.
I picked the lasagna.
“You look familiar," she said. "Have we met before?"
I studied her gorgeous face. "I'm pretty sure I’d remember a woman like you."
She blushed and batted her eyelashes.
"I know we've met. Give me a minute. I'll think of it," she said as she headed to the galley.
There were two other people in first class, and not many in coach. I reclined my seat back and sunk into the soft leather. Flying private jets across the country had spoiled me. As nice as the accommodations were, it seemed cramped and uncomfortable in comparison. The FBO terminal was so much easier to navigate. And security at the FBO was a breeze. For this flight, I had checked my roller case and had complied with all the TSA regulations for traveling with a firearm.
Kennedy returned shortly with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. She set it on the fold-out tray atop a napkin. She flashed another brilliant smile. "Please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."
She spun around and strutted back to the galley. She certainly made the uniform look good. With a short blonde bob, blue eyes, and sculpted cheekbones, she made flying commercial almost bearable.
The fasten seatbelt sign went out, and the pilot crackled over the intercom. "Folks, it looks like we'll have pretty smooth air. I turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. You are free to move about the cabin, but please keep your seatbelt fastened while seated." He had the typical pilot’s voice that was smooth and fast like a radio DJ. “Estimated flight time to Chicago is 4 hours, 20 minutes. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight."
I yawned and swallowed, trying to get my ears to pop.
Kennedy returned a few moments later with a sly grin on her face. "You were the guy who broke up the fight at Wetsuit.”
"You were there?"
"I had a layover in Coconut Key. You were with that guy that looked like the lead singer of... I can't think of his name…"
"Jack."
"No. Vince? Maybe?”
“Jack’s my friend’s name.”
“Ah. Small world," she said.
“Yes it is.”
Kennedy went about her business, serving the other flyers, but she kept stopping by to chat throughout the flight.
“Are you based in Chicago?” I asked.
“Yes, but I’m originally from Texas.”
"How do you like Chicago?"
"I like it. It's a great city. A little too cold sometimes. I'm still getting used to it. I was based out of Houston, which is also a hub for the airline, so it was a pretty easy move. We have two seasons in Houston. Hot and hotter. So, Chicago is definitely a change of pace."
I chuckled. I knew how hot Texas summers could be.
“So, you're a deputy?"
I raised my brow. "You're observant.”
“I’m telling you. I watched that whole thing go down. It was great entertainment. The chick that started it was a nut job." Kennedy cringed. "I must say, I was a little worried for you. That was a big guy that swung at you."
"I‘ve fought bigger,” I said with a grin.
She smiled. "Well, I really should pretend like there are other people on this plane."
We chatted a few more times, and before the fl
ight was over, she slipped her phone number to me on a napkin. She leaned in and whispered into my ear. "I never do this, but since we kind of, sort of, met before the flight, I guess it's okay."
I smiled and texted her so she’d have my number. Thoughts of the mile high club danced in my mind.
It was just before 2 AM when we landed in Chicago. My connecting flight didn't leave till 9:05 AM. I smiled and said goodbye to Kennedy as I de-planed, then strolled up the jetway into the terminal at O'Hare.
Not my favorite airport.
It was such a busy hub, flights were always getting delayed. But right now, it was nearly empty.
I took a seat and tried to get comfortable at the gate.
That was impossible.
There was no way to sprawl out on the seats. The armrests blocked any attempt at reclining. I figured I could roll up a newspaper and sleep on the floor for a few hours until my flight. Or I could spring for a room at the Hilton.
At this time of night, the airport was practically deserted. All the bars and restaurants were closed. The only options were vending machines containing soda, water, and snacks.
I sat there, contemplating my options, watching the rest of the passengers de-plane. The crew followed shortly thereafter, and Kennedy rolled her suitcase out of the jetway. She smiled and waved to me as she walked with a group of flight attendants. Her high heels clacked against the tile as she and her companions strutted away.
I soaked in a last glimpse of her luscious form, then slouched down in the seat, leaned back, and closed my eyes. I’d slept in worse places, but this wasn't going to be any fun. I was about to get up and move to the floor when a sweet voice whispered, "You're not really going to sleep here, are you?"
I peeled my eyes open to see Kennedy hovering over me.
"That was the plan,” I said. “But I'm not sure it's a good one."
Kennedy looked at her watch. "The hotel bar is open till 2 AM. It’s right across the street. We've got time for a drink. You can decide where you’d rather stay. The terminal? Or, my apartment—if you play your cards right?”
I lifted a curious eyebrow. "I'm pretty good at cards."
"I'm sure you are."
28
The alarm on my phone blasted at 6 AM.
I grabbed the phone and shut off the alarm, then forced myself to sit up. My eyes were glued shut, and I almost had to manually peel them open.
Let’s just say I didn't get much sleep the night before.
Kennedy groaned and rolled over in the bed beside me. The sheets twisted as she turned, revealing her naked body. Her glorious backside looked just as enticing as it had the night before.
I crawled out of bed, took a quick shower, and got dressed. I gave Kennedy a light kiss on the cheek before I left. She was asleep and barely acknowledged it.
If I was ever in Chicago, I would definitely fly those skies again.
The line to get through security wasn't too bad since I arrived at the airport so early. The flight was on time, but the service wasn't nearly as good.
It was 11:42 AM when I landed at LAX. I couldn't get a flight into Burbank. I snatched my bag from the carousel at baggage claim and caught a cab at ground transportation. Within moments, I was sitting in traffic on the 405. It was a sea of red taillights.
I suggested an alternate route, taking Sepulveda. The cabdriver just shrugged and said, “It's all the same."
He was probably right.
I texted Scarlett and let her know that I was on the ground.
I had traveled all this way, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I knew what I wanted to do, but I couldn't just put a bullet in this guy's head.
It took almost an hour to get to the Valley, and when I arrived at the apartment, Scarlett greeted me with a hug. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said in a somber tone. "Thanks for coming. I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here for this."
"Tell me where I find this guy?" I said.
"What are you going to do?"
"Make sure he doesn't do this again."
"You're not going to…"
"No. I'm not going to kill him."
"Because that would probably be bad."
I shrugged. "Probably."
We stood there for a long moment.
"I just want to be perfectly clear in my understanding of what happened,” I said.
"What else do you want to know?"
"Did this happen exactly as you told me?"
Her face crinkled. "Yes. Why would you even ask that? Do you think I'm lying?"
"Did I say I thought you were lying?"
"Did you even have to ask?"
"I didn't come here to get in a fight with you."
She exhaled. "I'm sorry. I'm just totally stressed out about this."
“Tell me exactly what happened again."
She told me the exact same story as she did before. None of the details had changed. People who make up stories generally can't remember everything they said. Details and time frames tend to change. I knew that Scarlett could sometimes be quite dramatic, but I knew her well enough to know that she was telling the truth, without embellishing.
Rage boiled within.
I left Scarlett's apartment and headed over to the acting studio to give the creep a piece of my mind. It probably wasn't one of my finer moments.
29
"I'm sorry, I’m in the middle of a private lesson," Easton said as I burst in. "If you'd like to audit a class, you can put your name on a waitlist. There should be one at the front desk.”
The studio was empty except for Easton and his protégé. He sat next to her on the stage. He was dangerously close to her and had his hand on her thigh when I entered the auditorium. There was no one else around. No one at the front desk.
The classroom was a tiny theater with less than 100 seats. The walls were painted black, and a small riser served as a stage. Lights hung from a grid on the ceiling. It was quiet except for the hum of the air-conditioning unit.
I stormed down the aisle, toward the stage, and told the girl, “Private lesson is over. Go home. Find another acting coach!"
A nearby camera on a tripod was aimed at the pair. I made sure it was off.
Easton launched out of his chair. "You can't come in here like this!"
I grabbed the scumbag by the throat and drove him back against the wall. My hand tightened around his trachea, and he clutched my wrist.
“Get out!” I shouted at the girl.
She shrieked and darted out of the theater.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" Easton said, barely able to choke out the words.
“You’re a scumbag that forces himself on vulnerable women,” I growled.
His face crinkled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
I tightened my grip on his throat.
“Okay, okay! It won’t happen again.”
“You’re goddamn right it won’t! If I hear about this kind of shit again, I don’t care if it’s even a rumor, I’ll be back. And trust me, you don’t ever want to see me again.” My eyes blazed into him. “Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Say it!”
“I’ll never do it again!”
“And if you try to retaliate against any of these women, because I know there’s more than one, you’ll regret it. Am I clear?”
He nodded with wide eyes. He could barely breathe, and he looked like he was about to faint. I pulled my hand away. Easton gasped for breath and collapsed to his knees.
I hovered over him. “Next time you won’t get off so easy.”
The dirt-ball nodded as he hovered on the ground on all fours.
I wanted to kick him in the face, but I thought better of it. I stormed out of the theater, moved through the empty lobby, and stepped onto the sidewalk in the bright LA sunshine.
A thin smile tugged on my face. Mission accomplished. I took a deep breath and strolled toward the coffee shop on the corner
. There was outdoor seating on the sidewalk. I walked past all the people drinking their lattes, wearing sunglasses and yoga pants. I stepped inside, grabbed a coffee with cream and sugar, then caught a cab back to Scarlett's apartment.
"How'd it go?" she asked with worried eyes as I entered.
"I don't think he's going to bother anyone anymore," I said.
"Is he still breathing, or do I want to ask?"
"Relax. I didn't get out of control. I just made a firm suggestion that he change his ways." I smiled.
My phone rang. It was Joel. "What on earth did you do?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, innocently.
"I just got a call from Easton. He said he was accosted in his studio by an angry man who threatened him."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
"This is a big problem. He's livid. He swears that Scarlett will never work in this town. He's going to tell everyone to stay away from her!”
I clenched my jaw. "Apparently he didn't get the message."
"You can't just go barging into people's studio and threaten them," Joel said. "That's not how we do things here."
There was a knock on the door, followed by a gruff voice. "LAPD. We have an arrest warrant."
"You didn't give him my name, did you?" I muttered into the phone.
Joel was silent a moment, then his meek voice filtered through the speaker. "It kind of slipped out."
"I think I'm going to need you to bail me out of jail."
I hung up the phone and pulled open the door to see two LAPD officers with their weapons drawn. "Tyson Wild, we have a warrant for your arrest."
Easton must have been important for the LAPD to respond this fast. Anything under 2 hours was rare.
I raised my hands in the air, turned around, and dropped to my knees. The cold steel cuffs slapped my wrists, then the officers yanked me to my feet.
Scarlett watched with wide eyes. "What's going on?"
"Don't worry," I said. "Everything's gonna be fine."
"You're under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon and making criminal threats. You have the right to remain silent…"
My face twisted at the deadly weapon part. I didn't even carry my gun into the studio.
