by Todd Borg
“Go!” I yelled.
She hit the pedal like a getaway driver, and we shot down the drive.
THIRTY-SIX
The gatehouse had an automatic gate for exiting vehicles. I worried that Stefan would have a way of over-riding it. But it opened after an agonizing wait, and Champagne raced out, making the tires squeal again.
“Which way do I go?” she shouted to me in the back seat.
“Out to the highway, then make a left.”
She drove fast and well, if nervously. At the highway, she turned toward Tahoe City.
“A half-mile or so up, you’re going to take a left,” I said.
“Back onto Dollar Point? You’re crazy.”
“We’ll be obvious in this car. Mine is close by. I think it’s the next street. Yes, up here. Turn.”
She did as told.
“Slow down,” I said. “No one is following us. We don’t want to call any attention to ourselves.”
She slowed, and we crawled down the street.
“Up here,” I said, “take a right. Then the next left.”
We approached my Jeep. I had her drive past it and park.
“Leave the key under the floor mat. Don’t lock it.”
We got out, went back to the Jeep, and got in.
“Why are you rescuing me?” she asked as I drove away. Spot had his head over the seat back, sniffing her. She put her hand up to fend him off.
“At Ryan’s party, you told someone that Preston had said frightening things about Ryan.”
“How do you know that?”
“You weren’t discreet. You were overheard. Preston’s guard wouldn’t let me in to talk to you, but then let it slip that Preston had hit you. Even your mother said she was frightened for you.”
“You called my mother?!”
I ignored her outburst. “She said that Preston scared her. It started to look like you were being held at his house rather than staying there voluntarily.”
“I can’t believe you found my mother and called her.”
“She cares about you. Worries about you.”
Champagne stared out the window, shaking her head.
“You said that Preston was coming back tonight?”
“Yes. He went to San Jose. He was coming in late. I think he said that Raul was to pick him up at one-thirty.”
“Raul is his driver?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Do you know the airline?”
“Preston has his own jet.”
“How does that work when he arrives? Does he come out in the baggage area like everyone else?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never flown on his jet. You’re not thinking of going there.”
I got to the highway, turned east toward Incline Village.
“I need to talk to him. I’ll leave you with Spot, far away. He won’t know where you are.”
She didn’t speak for a minute.
“Raul will be there in the Escalade. It’s black like the Audis. Maybe you could find him that way.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“You should know that he’s dangerous. If he wants to, he could have you seriously hurt. Or killed.”
“You think he would do that? Have someone killed?”
She paused. “I don’t know if he would have you killed. Taking me isn’t that huge of a deal. But yes, if someone crossed him in the worst way, I believe that he’d order a murder. And Stefan would kill for money.”
“Do you think Preston’s personally capable of killing?”
“No,” she said. “I think that’s why he hits me, because he doesn’t have the guts to hit someone else.”
We drove for awhile in silence. I came to the Mt. Rose Highway, turned left and headed up the mountain above Crystal Bay. As we came around the big turn by the overlook, lights were visible around the entire shore of the lake. They twinkled like a necklace that was 12 by 22 miles big.
“I understand that he has a place in the foothills,” I said as I accelerated up a long straight stretch.
“Yes, a horse ranch. He’s taken me there a few times since we started dating. Raul drives us. It’s wonderful. I don’t know how much he goes there without me. He doesn’t tell me much about where he goes. I don’t really know Preston well. I’ve dated him for a year or so, but I’ve only lived with him for a week.”
We kept climbing up past the meadows and crested the Mt. Rose Summit pass, which, at 9000 feet, is the highest year-round pass in the Sierra. I realized that we had driven by the turnoff to the CalBioTechnica research lab, but I hadn’t seen it in the dark. A short distance later the huge splash of Reno’s lights appeared on the desert floor, 4600 feet below us. I slowed for the long network of hair-pin curves as we wound our way down the mountain.
“You could just drop me at my parents’ house. They live here in Reno.”
“Too dangerous. Preston will look there.”
I saw her nod in my peripheral vision.
I hit the brakes as I came to a sharp switchback. I turned the Jeep through 180 degrees on a steep pitch, the lights on the desert floor distracting me from the dark highway. A hundred yards down were two more switchbacks.
“I could try going back to LA. But the competition is brutal trying to get acting or modeling work.”
“You ever study acting?”
“No,” she said.
“Modeling?”
“What’s to study?” she said.
“How is it that you think you could get any kind of acting or modeling job if you don’t know how to do it?”
“I’ve watched it. I’ve seen thousands of movies.”
“I’ve eaten tens of thousands of meals. Doesn’t mean I can be a professional chef.”
“Let’s face it,” she said. “The main thing they want is looks, right? They’re looking for people that other people want to look at. I grew up being looked at. It’s not the fun thing that everybody thinks. But I should at least be able to get some employment in that looking world, or whatever you want to call it.”
“The acting business cares about much more than looks,” I said. “But even if they did focus on looks, you said yourself that the competition is brutal. So how do you make yourself stand out among an ocean of beautiful people?”
She didn’t respond, but I saw her make a single nod.
“You could try a normal job,” I said. “Save some money, study acting on the side.”
“I would, but I don’t have any job skills. Besides, I don’t think I could stand a regular job. Too boring.”
“That’s what school is for. Skills will get you a job that isn’t boring.”
“School is too expensive,” she said.
“Not community college.”
“I wouldn’t go to a community college.”
For awhile, I drove without speaking. But I couldn’t stay quiet. “Should everything be handed to you? When everyone else puts in uncountable hours at school and boring jobs, should you be able to go to the head of the line and take your pick of opportunities?”
“You don’t know how hard it is these days.” I heard the waver in her voice, saw her hand wiping tears.
“Ryan Lear never did anything but work,” I said.
“Yeah, but he’s brilliant.” Now she was crying at a steady pace.
“An advantage that he used while he went to school, and studied hard, and went to more school. And when he wasn’t doing any of those things, he made a business plan. Have you ever thought about how much work goes into writing a Master’s Thesis? He’s done all this while he suffers from every social dysfunction known to man.” I stopped talking as I steered around another switchback. “You could use your advantages while you did all the same things.”
“My only advantage is my looks. You’re saying that there’s no substitute for work?”
I could barely understand her as she sniffled and sobbed.
“Here’s an idea,” I said. “Go to the library and check out three or four b
iographies of the people you most admire in the field of acting or modeling. Read them and see what they went through to get where they got.”
She thought about it, turned away from me to look out the side window, found a tissue, blew her nose, and turned back.
“You think I’m gonna find out that they had to work and study and claw their way to the top. That no one handed them anything no matter how gifted or talented or good-looking they were.”
“Just like sports stars or singers or artists,” I said. “You can be born with advantages, but for everyone who makes something of themselves through torturous hard work, there are ten thousand people just as talented who sit back and think that the difference between them and the successful person is luck.”
Champagne was quiet all the way to the bottom of the mountain. As we turned north on the freeway into Reno, she spoke in a low, hushed voice, thick with fear and pain and self-critique.
“That’s what I’ve always said. I look at a pretty girl who’s in a good movie, and I say, ‘I wish I was as lucky as her.’”
I got off the freeway at Plumb Lane, and headed into the airport.
THIRTY-SEVEN
It was 1:30 a.m. as I cruised up the passenger drop-off lane, looking for Raul. Champagne spotted the black Escalade.
I drove on past without slowing, went around the entire traffic loop a second time, then pulled into the ramp. I went up a level just to be safe, and parked.
“Keep the doors locked, and don’t open them for anyone,” I said. “Someone comes and tells you a story about me, don’t believe it. Stay in the Jeep with Spot, and you’ll be safe.”
Champagne looked worried. “How long do you think you’ll be?”
“I’ll just talk to him briefly. If his plane comes in now, as you thought, I’ll be back soon.”
I got out of the Jeep, went down the stairs, and crossed over to the terminal.
I walked down the sidewalk until I could see the Escalade. It hadn’t moved. Reno’s not a large city, and passengers were sparse so late at night. I loitered outside near one of the doors. The dry desert air was cool. When people periodically came out of the terminal, the warmer air that came with them was welcome.
Preston walked out fifteen minutes later. He wore an expensive suit and carried a brushed aluminum briefcase.
Raul jumped out of the Escalade. I met Preston just as Raul opened the back door for him.
“Have a good flight, Preston?”
“I remember you. Owen McKenna. I looked you up, asked a few questions. I don’t think you’re an investor, as you allowed me to believe. I discovered that your main business is investigation. Does this visit mean I’m being investigated?”
I held out the car key. “This is for one of your Audis.” I dropped it into his hand. “I came to tell you that a guy from your neighborhood will show up at your gatehouse some time soon. He will be returning your other Audi. You’re going to provide him access to your backyard, where his rowing shell is sitting on your beach near your east fence line. In exchange for your payment of one thousand dollars cash, he is going to take the shell off your property.”
Preston squinted at me. “And if I don’t pay him?”
“Then he will file charges with the Placer County Sheriff’s office regarding your theft of his boat. And Champagne will file assault and kidnapping charges.”
“That’s absurd.”
“You had a slide bolt on the outside of her door. She was locked in your house. But she’s free now. She’s found her strength.”
Preston’s jaw muscles bulged in the terminal lights.
“She wants to stay with me. She loves me. She will be home as soon as she’s away from your influence,” he said.
“Not this time. If you try to contact her, I’ll send photos of the bruises on her face to the media along with photos of her with you at Ryan’s party. The news websites will think they’ve been given a sweet gift.”
Preston reached for the car door that Raul was holding. “People who interfere in my life always regret it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes. One more thing. I don’t think you will ever see her again. But if by some chance you do and you touch her again, I will find you, and I will break your arms.”
Preston’s jaw moved left, then right. He smiled. “Let me be sure I’m understanding you correctly. Are you threatening me? Are you actually threatening Preston Laurence?”
I nodded. I pointed at his arms and walked away.
From a distance, I watched to be certain that Laurence got into the Escalade and that it drove away.
When they were gone, I went back to the Jeep.
Spot was excited. Champagne was glum.
As we drove away she said, “I don’t think I’m going to be Champagne anymore. I think I’m Carol again.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
It was very late, but I didn’t want Street to worry. I called hoping that she’d turned off the phone to let the machine get it, but I woke her up. I briefly told her that I was taking Champagne, now Carol, to Ryan’s house, and she could find me there in the morning.
Next, I called Ryan.
“You’re okay?!” he nearly shouted at me. “I’ve been so worried!”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I did like you said and took Lily out so we wouldn’t be at the house. We did everything we could think of, but now we’re in a twenty-four hour café at Stateline, just waiting for your call. I was about to check in to one of the hotels.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know it would go so late. But I’m driving from Reno, headed toward your house. We’ll be there in a bit over an hour. Don’t go there before we get there. Even with the off-duty cop there. If for some reason my Jeep isn’t in the drive when you get there, leave and come back later.”
“You said we. Who is we?”
“I’ve got Spot and Carol Pumpernickel with me. She will be joining us at your house for a day or three, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. Whatever you think is best.”
I said goodbye.
We drove in silence for a time. The highway left the bright lights of south Reno and arced into the low mountains that separate Reno from the flat, beautiful Washoe Valley. Spot seemed asleep in back. Carol had her head back against the headrest and sideways against the window. She didn’t appear to be sleeping. But she was fatigued, no doubt trying to figure out what she’d gotten into, and where she was headed next.
“I’m sorry I got upset earlier,” she said. “But the things you said, they were too close to the things that Preston said to me.”
“How is that?”
It was a minute or more before she spoke. I waited.
“Preston first met me at an audition call in LA a year ago. He’d bought an interest in a movie production studio. A casting director was holding the audition, and Preston was there acting like the big man on campus. What he really was doing was checking out the women.
“When he asked me out after the end of the second day, I already thought he was more hot air than anything else. But I also believed that I was a hungry young actor, and going out with him seemed a smart move. It was only later that I realized that I may have been hungry, but I didn’t know anything about being an actor.
“However, Preston knew. And from early on he told me that I didn’t know anything about acting. He once asked me if I’d ever done stage work. And I said, ‘What do you mean?’ I’d honestly never thought about acting on stage. He’s been joking about that ever since. His jokes are mean. It’s not like good-natured teasing. So that’s why you struck a nerve back there. What I have to offer and what I don’t have to offer is clear to everyone else. I’m the only one stupid enough to be blind to my ignorance.”
“Why did you keep going out with him?”
“I’ve asked myself that a hundred times. Of course, there’s the obvious. He’s got massive amounts of money, and I grew up poor, and... Well, I’m not proud of that. And he can be nice, believe it o
r not. When he wants to make you feel good, he knows what to say and how to act. Also, when you’re on the arm of someone so important, it makes you feel a little important. I’m not proud of that either. Where I should be focused on character, instead I’ve always been focused on money and access and those things I’ve never had.
“But I’m not totally naive. The first time he brought me onto his yacht, I wondered how many other girls came before me, their mouths open as they stared at this toy that is fancier than anything they’ve ever imagined.
“Even so, I think the main thing that attracted me to him was his connection to that production studio. I had stars in my eyes from day one, thinking that if I made him happy, he’d arrange to put me in a movie. Of course, he never did, and he was totally clear about why not. I didn’t have a clue about acting. So when you said the same thing, it brought that all up again.”
I was cresting the rise at the south end of Washoe Valley, and began the descent down into Carson City.
“I have some questions if you feel up to it,” I said.
“Now is as lousy as any other time,” she said.
“I saw you arguing out on Ryan’s deck the night of the party. I couldn’t see who the other person was.”
“Stefan. The bodyguard who drives the purple muscle car.”
“Tell me again why you think he’s dangerous,” I said.
“Because he’s not normal. He’s got guns and knives and this chain with a weird metal thing with spikes on it.”
“What were you and Stefan arguing about?”
It was a moment before she responded. “It’s embarrassing.”
I waited.
“He made a comment about the way I looked in my dress. I told him that he was rude, and that Preston liked me to look nice. He said that all Preston cared about was that I look like a good piece of meat in front of his friends. So I yelled at him. It’s stupid to yell at someone dangerous, but I was very upset.”
“Later in Preston’s car, what was that about?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I talked to someone who saw you get out and walk down the highway.”
