by Anna Paige
God, I really was her, wasn’t I?
True to her promise, Evie didn’t bring it up again. We sat on her couch for hours after that, drinking wine and sighing into the silences between my occasional mutterings, usually about the video as I wondered how many people out there were watching it at any given moment.
I didn’t mention Gavin again all night, unable to bring myself to utter his name. He might have been in my thoughts—almost to the exclusion of everything else—but I couldn’t talk about him, even with Evie.
Not yet.
My phone buzzed several times that afternoon—probably either Gavin or Bryce—and I turned it off without looking at it.
I’d talk to them eventually. I’d already made my mind up about that. I wouldn’t hide myself away and bury my head in the sand. I’d deal with it. Not tonight, but soon.
I just had to decide how.
Gavin
It was nearly midnight when my phone finally vibrated. It was face down on my chest where I’d rested it as I stared blankly at my ceiling, hating my apartment even more now that I’d had to slink back to it alone.
I picked it up and checked the screen.
Evie.
I’d conned Joey into giving me her number—apparently, they’d been talking a lot since they first met on the set—and texted her to please at least let me know that Kaiti was okay.
There had been no response all day, which made me nervous.
I was so excited to finally hear back that I dropped the stupid phone and had to wrangle it out of the covers before I could read the message.
Evie: She’s as good as one would expect. Staying at my place. I’m taking care of her, keeping her away from the internet.
I stared at the message for a full minute, glad that she had Evie but resenting that it wasn’t me looking after her. It should have been. I needed it to be me, but she needed space, so what the fuck could I do except give it to her?
Me: Thanks for letting me know. I was really worried.
It didn’t take long for her to respond.
Evie: Please tell me I’m right about you, that you wouldn’t hurt her like this.
Me: I’d sooner take a bullet than hurt Kaiti. On my life, Evie, I was only trying to protect her. I love her.
There was no immediate reply. I stood and made my way to my sterile-looking kitchen for a glass of water. The apartment had never been me, never been a good fit, but after spending so much time at Kaiti’s these last few weeks, it was so much worse. Like a prison. Devoid of life, like me. The temptation to drink had been looming over me all day but I didn’t give in. I wanted to be clear-headed while I dealt with everything.
And I wanted to be in driving condition at all times in case I got the opportunity to go to her. Even if it was only so she could cuss me out in person, which was a distinct possibility.
I was making my way back to the bedroom when my phone vibrated. I turned it over and looked at the screen, some of the weight on my heart lifting.
Evie: I knew it. And she does too, even if she’s not ready to admit it yet. Don’t give up on her. And I won’t let her give up on you. Promise.
Me: If you didn’t already have a best friend, I’d claim you as mine. Thank you.
Evie: You’d regret it, trust me. But thanks for the compliment. Get some rest and you’ll hear from one of us soon.
Me: No offense, but I’m hoping it’s Kaiti.
Evie: None taken. Me too. Goodnight.
Me: Goodnight.
I wanted to ask so many questions but I didn’t. It was better to talk to Kaiti, even if I had to wait and wonder a while longer. I knew Evie was taking a risk by talking to me at all, so I wouldn’t push my luck.
I finally drifted off long past midnight, a fitful sleep filled with images of Kaiti. Some of them pleasant; we were on the beach in California, making love and listening to the waves like we didn’t have a care in the world. Some of them though were anything but comforting. Flashes of her walking away, glimpses of her being leered at and whispered about by people who’d seen the video. She was crying, flinching away from their attention and looking small and vulnerable—suffering alone because my silence had given her reason to doubt me.
I tossed and turned all night, waking briefly between dreams and feeling the crushing weight on my chest getting incrementally heavier with each awful image.
By the time dawn broke, I was up and showered, running on very little sleep but not mentally prepared for another string of nightmares.
Instead of pacing and waiting for Kaiti to call, I was determined to get to the bottom of what had happened so that if…when she called, I could tell her what had really gone down.
And who was going down for hurting her this way.
“The fuck are you calling so early for, dude?” There was a muffled groan and the sound of the phone being dropped at least twice before Michael came back on the line. “Seriously, it’s still dark.”
“Nah, you probably still have one of yesterday’s extras plastered to your face, blocking the sunlight with her tits.” I smiled as I baited him. It was infinitely more satisfying to piss him off after I’d just woken him at dawn.
“Blow me,” he groused.
“Talking to the extra?”
He harrumphed loudly. “I liked it better when we weren’t on speaking terms.”
“Yeah, yeah, me too. Now get the fuck up and be ready to leave in ten.”
He muttered under his breath for a minute, and I could have sworn it was some dirtied-up version of the Serenity prayer. God grant me the serenity not to snap a motherfucker’s neck… “Where the hell do you think we’re going at stupid o’clock in the morning? It’s Saturday for fuck’s sake.”
“Oh, quit your bitching and remember your promise. You want to help Kaiti, right?”
He just grunted, but was clearly up and moving by the sound of it.
“Your level of enthusiasm is overwhelming.”
“Lane…” he growled, which made me smile even wider. This was going to be exactly the distraction I needed; pissing Michael off had just become my new favorite pastime—until I could fix this shit and return to my previous favorite pastime.
“Be in the lobby in ten, dick head.” I hung up before he could respond, almost chipper after hearing the irritation in his voice.
I’d never considered the cast’s living arrangements a bonus before, given how I’d made it a point to avoid after hours fraternization with most of them, but having Michael only a couple of floors away was going to prove highly convenient.
Skylar, of course, had refused to stay in the building, opting for a bigger, more pretentious place a few miles away. She wouldn’t be caught dead in a one bedroom apartment without a private pool or staff to fall at her feet upon her arrival.
I thought it was ridiculous, but not having to see her in the lobby or elevators was perfectly fine with me.
Ten minutes later, I was downstairs…and Michael wasn’t. I started to text him to hurry the hell up but decided against it. If he knew he was pissing me off, he’d never come down.
I stood there for another fifteen minutes before he deigned to grace me with his presence, stepping off the elevator with a Cheshire cat grin that made his scar appear impossibly deep and menacing. He dared to try looking innocent. “Been waiting long?”
No way was I letting him know he’d gotten to me. “Nah. Just got here myself. Would have been here sooner but your mom keeps calling me, looking to hook up. I spent fifteen minutes trying to get her to stop crying after I shot her down…again. I think I’m going to have to change my damn number.”
He stopped, looking me up and down like he was deciding how large of a body bag he’d need for after he killed me. Instead of biting back, though, he smirked and gave me a nod of approval. “She always did have shitty taste in men.”
I turned and started toward the door, nodded hello to the security detail—there were two this morning—and called over my shoulder, “Just don’t g
o calling me Daddy. Oh, and I’m driving.”
“I hate your guts,” he muttered from a few paces behind me.
“I heard this parenting thing would be difficult,” I mused, heading to the driver’s side of my rental.
He opened the passenger door, looked at me over the roof, and bit out a clipped, “Fuck. You.”
When we arrived at the set, the security guard waved us through and I immediately pulled off to the side. I got out just as he exited his booth to see what was going on.
“Everything all right, Mr. Lane?” He looked concerned, eyes darting around.
I offered him a friendly smile and extended my hand. “All good.” I eyed his name tag. “Just wanted to ask you a quick question, Dave.”
He frowned, tossing a look at my annoying passenger as he stood by the car. “Okay?”
“Were you on duty this past Monday morning?”
His posture shifted, his arms folding as he closed himself off. “I was. Why? Is there some problem?”
I smiled again. “No, not at all. We’ve been in the middle of a prank war of sorts on the set and we’re trying to figure out who to pay back for a really good burn that happened earlier this week.” I leaned in and nodded in Michael’s direction, whispering. “Someone put Nair in his shampoo, dude. It was awesome.”
“No shit?” Dave breathed, eyeing his full head of hair.
“Oh yeah, that’s a rug he’s wearing. It was brutal. Big damn tufts of hair all over the place. Rumor has it he cried and everything.”
Dave chuckled softly, trying to hide it with a cough. “And you guys don’t know who the culprit is?”
I shook my head earnestly. “No, and he thinks it was me even though I have repeatedly told him it wasn’t. Much as I’d love to take credit for epic-ness like that, I can’t. I kinda want to know who it really was, though, so I can shake their hand.”
“Me too. That guy…” He tilted his head at Michael who was shooting daggers at me. “He nearly ran over my foot one morning. Then had the balls to flip me off on the way by.”
“Speaking of balls, I hear he shampooed his pubes with that stuff too. Bet that stung a little…” I smirked.
Dave lost it, laughing so hard he doubled over. When he was able to collect himself, he asked, “So, how can I help?”
I threw an arm over his shoulder, all friendly like. “Can you tell me who was let into the building Monday morning? You keep records of that, right?”
He nodded. “Oh yeah. There’s a record of everyone who enters and leaves, so we can be sure the building is cleared for the day before we lock up.” He started in the direction of the guard booth, motioning for me to follow.
I gestured in Michael’s direction, motioning for him to join us. He flipped me off as he started walking.
If he only knew.
Dave pulled out a clipboard and started flipping back through the stack of pages on it. “Monday…Monday…” he muttered as he thumbed through them. “Aha, Monday, here we go.” He scanned the page, which was turned away from our view. “Hmm…” He frowned. “Says here only three people came in that morning. Early. Like, really early. A guy named Augustine Canady around four a.m., then Ms. Banks around four-fifteen, and Mr. Harrison at five-ten.”
Skylar was here on Monday. My jaw clenched in anger at the confirmation. “Does it say how long each of them was here?”
He nodded. “Mr. Canady was only here for twenty minutes, Mr. Harrison for about the same…”
“And Skylar?”
He frowned at her name, probably having had a run in or two with her like the one he’d had with Michael, to whom he still hadn’t spoken. “She was here from four-fifteen to five-forty. Left right after Mr. Harrison.”
So, she could have run into Gus while he was inside and lingered long enough to snoop after he left Bryce’s office, then hidden out until Bryce left before making her own exit.
I nodded to the sheet in his hand. “Any chance we can get a copy of that?”
He shrugged, trying to sneak a look at Michael’s ‘rug’ while he wasn’t looking. “I don’t see why not. I don’t have a printer here, though.”
I pulled out my phone and nodded at the clipboard. “A quick pic would be fine.”
He turned the sheet so I could get a good shot, and I said my thanks before heading back to the car.
“Want to let me in on whatever the two of you were laughing about?” Michael sounded annoyed as hell.
“Nope,” I told him pleasantly. “Now, let’s get inside and do a little snooping. I want to check out Sky’s dressing room and Bryce’s office, just in case.”
We drove deeper into the empty garage and parked right by the walkway to the elevators.
He got out of the car and shook his head. “Why look in Bryce’s office? He’s already told you he shredded the file. You can’t possibly still think it was him.”
“No, it was almost definitely Sky. I want to look around, that’s all. You take her dressing room. I’ll take Bryce’s office.”
We rode the elevator up in silence, and once the doors opened, took off in opposite directions.
Bryce’s office was rarely locked unless he was in it and taking an important call, so I walked right in and began going through the trash, the shredder tray, and even the wastebasket in the attached bathroom. All empty.
I sat behind his desk, not expecting to find anything but also unwilling to take Bryce at his word—not anymore.
I opened drawers, went through stacks of boring ass papers, and basically spent a lot of time learning absolutely nothing except that he really needed to delegate some of the shit he was behind on because, Jesus Christ, the amount of paperwork in his inbox was ridiculous.
I closed his office door behind me and made my way toward Sky’s dressing room, almost running into Michael head-on as he stepped in front of me.
“Find anything?”
He shrugged. “Not really. She’s got so much junk in there, it’s hard to know what’s what.”
“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing a hand over my hair.
“Don’t go getting your panties in a twist yet, golden boy. I think I have an idea that will get us what we need to nail her.”
I blew out a breath, scoffing. “All you need to nail her is to have a couple commas in your net worth.”
“Truth.” He nodded, smiling a real smile for the first time since I’d known him. “But that’s not what we need now.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what do we need?”
“Something only I can provide. A sinister plot and a total lack of moral fiber.” He grinned, showing so many teeth he looked like a freaking shark.
And maybe he was.
“Let’s hear it, then.” I hated to admit it, but I was intrigued.
He shook his head. “Nope. You concentrate on Kaiti and let me handle Sky.”
I gave him a bland look. “Why in the hell would I do that?”
“Because you don’t have the capacity to be as immoral as this requires. Let me be the big villain who squashes the little one and you ride in like the fucking Prince Charming the whole world makes you out to be.”
He sincerely wanted to help, and maybe even looked forward to taking down Skylar, but the idea of receiving help from Michael Mills left a sour taste in my mouth.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to…” I began.
He cut me off with a look of genuine sincerity. “I know you don’t like me and you damn sure don’t trust me under normal circumstances, I get that. And I don’t like or trust you worth a damn, either. But this isn’t really about us now, is it?”
I gave him a hard look but had to agree. “It’s about Kaiti. But you don’t like her either, do you?”
His gaze shifted off to the side, becoming unfocused. “I never said I had anything against her. Maybe I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of breaking in a newbie at first but she wasn’t that bad. I was impressed, actually, and kind of jealous that she had so much natural talent.�
� His eyes sought mine and damn if he didn’t look ashamed. Totally and completely ashamed. “Did I really hurt her? I was trying not to, even though I had to be a little rough to appease Skylar. Did I leave marks on her?”
“No bruises. You just freaked her out.” I don’t know why I wanted to make him feel better, but the look on his face was so…I don’t even know if there’s a word for it. Stronger than regret, deeper than shame, almost like weeping without actually shedding tears.
Still, that protective part of me had to have the last word, to drive home exactly what she’d felt. “Having you do that, especially on camera, really messed with her. She had a lot of anxiety—as you can probably imagine—and you didn’t just shake her physically. It threw her for a loop.”
He nodded, eyes dropping briefly to the floor. “That’s why I have to do this myself. I need to make up for what I’ve done. You…you don’t have anything to atone for.”
“Not entirely true,” I admitted. “I kept things from her, things I knew, like how Bryce was having her investigated.”
“Because you knew it would upset her. Not the same as what I did.” He started toward the elevators and I fell into step beside him.
“You were definitely worse than me, no argument there and no forgiveness, no matter why you did it. But I told her I loved her and then withheld the truth. It’s not as easy as saying I wasn’t the one who outed the video. I may not be guilty of that, but I’m not exactly without blame either.”
We boarded the elevator and he punched the appropriate button. “Look, you’ve got more freaking charm up your sleeve than any one man should. You can get her to listen to you. But getting her to come back to this place—that is going to take some doing.”
I gave him a surprised look. It hadn’t even occurred to me what this meant for the show.
“See? You hadn’t even considered that part.”
“And you clearly have.”
He stepped out of the elevator ahead of me, speaking over his shoulder as we headed for my car. “Of course, I have. And no, that’s not the reason I want to fix this. But it does mean a lot of roadblocks for everyone if she refuses to come back. I prefer my drama on-screen, not on-set. Know what I mean?”
