***
Soon after Liam left, Sam and Craig showed up with a couple of casually dressed men pulling a small black suitcase. They opened the bag and pulled out a metal device about the size of a cell phone with a long cord that looked like a small microphone. Sarah didn’t want to watch. She was torn. Part of her wanted them to find some sort of surveillance device in the house to exonerate her friend, so she could be comfortable trusting the ones she had always trusted in the past. The other part of her was worried that there was a surveillance device in the house and every conversation, every intimate moment between her and Jon, had been recorded. She couldn’t decide which one was the worst scenario. Not really wanting to know the answer, Sarah grabbed her journal and headed for the courtyard, but before she reached the kitchen door, Sam stopped her.
“I need your computer and your cell phone. We’re going to change the passwords on all your Internet accounts, too. We can’t leave anything to chance, Sarah. We have to be very thorough, or we’ll continue to have problems,” lectured Sam.
Sarah retrieved her computer and handed it over with her phone, just as Jon entered the kitchen. “They haven’t found anything so far,” Jon admitted as he approached them. Sarah looked up, her face twisting with apprehension.
“Whatever happens, it will all work out. It always does,” Jon soothed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
She rested her head against his chest and said, “I know. I just don’t want to believe one of my friends could betray us like that. What if it is Megan, then what?”
Sam spoke up, “Sarah, if nothing pans out at the house, then we’ll feed your friend some mild misinformation and see if it comes out in the press. If it does then we’ll know it’s her. If not, we’ll keep searching.”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Sarah admitted as she left Jon’s side and walked out into her happy place, the courtyard. She looked up toward the sky with her eyes closed, letting the sun warm her face, then settled in a chair under the pergola and took a deep breath. She opened her journal, but couldn’t concentrate enough to write a sentence. Instead she tapped the pen nervously against the page, strewing pockmarks across the paper. She didn’t know how she would even approach a conversation with Megan, or any of her friends, about selling secrets. They had talked about it before, but she never considered any of them to be the culprits. They all had joked about it. It couldn’t be any of them. There had to be some other explanation.
After about twenty minutes, Jon joined Sarah in the courtyard. He sat down next to her without a word. Pointing to her peppered journal page, he said, “That’s not how dot to dot works.” He gestured for her pen. She passed it to him with a serious air, and he drew an elaborate smiley face on the page connecting the dots. “See?” He raised an eyebrow and grinned back at her. Then he nudged his chair closer to hers and wrapped his arms around her.
He pulled her against his chest, and she asked, “They didn’t find anything, did they?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean the Internet accounts weren’t hacked. We’ll change all the account passwords before we accuse anyone of anything.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But honestly, if she and Liam spoke on the phone, changing our passwords won’t make a difference. We didn’t even know they were talking to each other.”
“Do you think she’s leaked our wedding information to the paparazzi?” she earnestly asked, wanting to know Jon’s honest opinion.
“We may just have to accept the facts. This kind of betrayal happens all the time,” he acknowledged.
She nuzzled against him. She didn’t like what he was saying, but she needed him. She couldn’t deny it. Being next to him comforted her. Sarah peered under his arm toward the glass door of the kitchen. Sam and Craig were standing behind a man who had Sarah’s laptop in front of him on the kitchen table. “Don’t they need my passwords?” she questioned.
“I gave Sam most of them. The ones I knew.” He smiled at her. “He may have to ask for a couple. He’s going to pick the new ones so none of your friends can guess them and you can’t give them out.”
“How am I going to remember them?”
“Write them in here. No one who knows you would ever touch your journal,” he said pointing to the book on the table.
She pulled back and looked at him with a pouty face. She didn’t want to change her passwords. Had it really come to this? Keeping secrets from her best friends—the friends she had shared everything with her entire life. The same friends she confided in about Jon. “Then what? What happens now?” she whispered. She had just spoken to Megan about Mia’s pregnancy. Would that come out in the tabloids next?
“I’ve been through this before. The faster we act on our suspicions, the better off we’ll be. I think we need to confront Megan today. Whether she leaked it intentionally or not, it started with her. I can call her if you want.”
“No, I want to do it.”
It wasn’t that she wanted to do it. She just didn’t want Jon unleashing on Megan and Megan firing back at Jon. She spotted the large digital clock on the bar. “Is that time right?” she asked, though she knew it was. “I’ve got to go. I need some time to think about what to say. I’m going to Pilates class to clear my head.” She had almost forgotten about her class. “There is a six-hour cancelation policy. The instructor is really strict. She likes her class full, and I just secured my spot. If I don’t show up, I’ll get knocked back onto the waiting list. I’ll never get back into her class.” She stood up and headed toward the kitchen door.
“Craig can go with you. I’m sure Sam can handle this on his own,” he stated, as he followed her toward the house.
She opened the kitchen door and turned to him.
“No, Jon, I’m going by myself. I need to be alone. I never get to drive anymore. It’s just Pilates class. No one knows who I am unless I’m with you.” That was usually true, not always, but usually.
The group of men around the computer looked up in silent concern.
“Sarah, that was before…” Jon started to say, his voice slightly raised.
“I don’t care. I’m going alone,” she snapped as she walked swiftly through the kitchen. She needed some space. It wasn’t just the leak and her total lack of privacy. It was the whole Mia pregnancy, too. She needed to think, away from Jon’s network of spies.
She changed, pulled her hair into a ponytail on the back of her head, and trotted back down stairs in yoga pants, a tank top, and her bright green cross-trainers. She looked around the kitchen. Craig was missing, and it didn’t take more than a beat to figure out Jon’s plan. “You can call Craig and tell him not to follow me, please.”
“Take your phone at least. It’s ready.” Jon handed her the phone and Sarah slipped it into her bag.
Why was he so calm? Normally he would put up more of a fight. Sarah wondered if he finally was seeing her point of view, giving her the space she needed. Security tagging along really wasn’t the issue, but it was one she could control. She just had so much pressure on her—the wedding, the paparazzi, Mia, and now Megan. She needed the privacy to pull all her thoughts together.
“Bye.” She kissed Jon on the cheek and left through the garage. As she settled into the bucket seat, she pushed the button to retract the roof. She was going to take full advantage of not having anyone to tell her what to do. When she reached the half-open gate, she smiled. Craig’s blue car was on the other side driving in. She waved at him as she pulled out onto the street.
Outside the gate she cranked her music up and tried to clear her mind. Mia’s smug face kept popping into her head, though. It must have been the Ashley Tyler song blabbering about betrayal through the car’s speakers. How fitting, Sarah thought.
Chapter Twelve
Sarah
BY THE TIME the Pilates class ended, most of Sarah’s worries had been filed away—at least for the moment. She was completely centered now, and her “powerhouse” muscles burned more than she wanted to admit. She had strug
gled with flow today, and the instructor had come over several times trying to help her make her positions.
She rolled off her mat and reached for her bag. Pulling her towel out, she wiped her face and cringed when she heard the instructor call her name. She looked up to see Cami motioning for her to come to the front of the room. She had never asked to talk to her after class before.
“I’m sorry, Cami. I know I was off today. I’m usually better. I can do better. My head is just messed up, and I really needed to get centered. Please don’t kick me out of your class. I wasn’t a complete disaster by the end.”
“I’m not going to kick you out of my class, Sarah. I just wanted you to know that there is a guy out in the hall asking for you.”
Sarah stretched up onto her tiptoes to spy through the small window in the door. “Crap!” Craig sat on a bench in the hall.
“Let me guess. Your distraction?”
“Not really, but part of it.” Sarah crinkled her face with embarrassment.
“You can go out through my office if you want to avoid him.”
“It doesn’t matter. He probably has LoJack on my car.”
“Come on.” Cami pulled Sarah into her office. “Let’s go grab a juice. Maybe he’ll give up if he finds the studio empty.”
“Sounds good.” Sarah smiled. Serves him right, she thought. She followed Cami out a back door to a sporty, silver Audi parked by the curb and got in the passenger side. “I can’t believe he followed me,” she muttered, gazing over her shoulder to make sure Craig wasn’t out on the curb watching her leave. Why couldn’t Jon just let her have an hour at Pilates alone? That’s all she was asking for, just an hour.
“I don’t think he’s following us. What’s his story anyway?” asked Cami, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m overreacting. It’s nothing really. I just want to make him sweat a bit.”
“I’m all for torturing men. They get what they deserve—I always say. So how do you like LA? You’re new to town, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I moved here from Minneapolis a few months ago. How did you know that?”
“Your motivation on your application. You wrote that you wanted a way to stay in shape because you used to jog, but you couldn’t jog now that you were in Los Angeles.”
Sarah sighed with relief. She was worried that she was in the car with one of Jon’s stalker fans.
“And I saw it in the tabloids,” Cami added.
Sarah dropped her head back against the seat. Was she still so naive to think that people didn’t know who she was? “I was hoping you didn’t know who I was. At least you’re honest.”
“Don’t worry, Sarah. I used to date an A-list actor. The paparazzi followed us around and never gave us peace. I hate the press as much as you. If there was a plague that only infected paparazzi, I would risk my life to steal it from the CDC and plant it in their camp. They are such vultures. I would never sell you out.”
“I’m just so used to everyone pretending around me, hoping to get close to Jon. It’s exhausting.”
“I’m not like that. What you see is what you get with me, and believe me, I have no interest in actors anymore. That ship has sailed. So why are you hiding from the bodyguard.”
“Oh my god. Am I that transparent?” Sarah shook her head in disgust.
“You kind of are. The guy was too fit to be a bouncer, and I know he’s not your boyfriend. I made an educated guess.”
“I just get overwhelmed sometimes. I never have any privacy anymore. I used to do everything myself and now I’m never alone.”
“It’s hard to adjust to LA. And dealing with that celebrity garbage must be a nightmare. It took me two years of living here before I felt comfortable. I moved here from Michigan when I was eighteen—fresh out of high school. I wanted to be an actress, like every other teen that comes here. I struggled for a while. I even lived in my car for a month before I got a job at a fitness center. I ran auditions and picked up a second job waitressing so I could pay rent.
“My mom died when I was ten and by the time I was eighteen, my dad had started a new family, of which I was never really a member. I didn’t want to ask him for help, and I’m not sure he would have helped me even if I had asked. He didn’t put up much of a fight when I left.”
“But you’re so successful now. You own your own studio and the only way to get into one of the classes you teach is if someone dies or moves away. Everyone knows you’re the best.”
Cami laughed. “I don’t know about that. But I have come a long way from living in my car.” She pulled the Audi up to the curb and shifted it into park. “Have you ever been to Caboose Juice?”
Sarah shook her head.
“It will be your new favorite. Trust me—it’s that good.”
She followed Cami into the building, expecting to find a train theme inside. Instead, large colorful photos of fully clothed backsides of men, women, and children stared back at her from the walls. The butts ranged from obese to extremely fit, and the sight of them made Sarah chuckle.
“I know…very motivating, right?” said Cami. “And the juice is amazing. Everything is made fresh. Try the kale-strawberry flirt. It will give you tons of energy.”
They ordered their juices and sat at a table away from the door. “So tell me how you became the owner of a Pilates studio.”
“I really enjoyed my job at the fitness center and trained with a woman who really knew Pilates. She taught me much of what I know, and I took over for her when she retired. I really wanted to be an actress, though, so I kept going on auditions as well. Eventually, I got a big movie deal and I had to give up my classes.”
The server brought their drinks, and Sarah took a long draw from her glass. “This is so good. You were totally right about this place becoming my favorite.”
“I come here all the time,” admitted Cami.
Sarah smiled. It felt so normal, being here with Cami. Even when her friends came, she didn’t feel completely normal. Sitting here with Cami, having easy conversation without everyone staring at her, relaxed her. “Acting isn’t as glamorous as everyone thinks, is it?”
“I didn’t give up acting because I didn’t like it. I loved acting, but I was in a car accident and it really messed me up. It left me with a concussion and a huge scar that runs all the way down my leg. After the accident I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t remember my lines. My short-term memory was permanently damaged, and the doctor’s say I may never get it back. I can’t act anymore. And the scar took away my confidence. It’s hideous. I’m too self-conscious to parade around naked, like is expected of an actress. So after I got my settlement from the insurance company, I bought the studio.”
“That’s awful, but at least you have the studio.”
“It’s a totally different life than I expected, but I’m not living in my car.”
“I understand the whole self-conscious thing about your scar. I was in a car accident in December and ended up having to have surgery. It was laparoscopic surgery but still left a couple of horrible scars. I went to the plastic surgeon to get the scars removed just this week, though, and I think I might be able to get back into a bikini again after everything heals. That’s the plan anyway.” Suddenly Sarah’s scars seemed insignificant. At least she could cover them up easily. “Have you had a plastic surgeon look at your scar?”
“No. My insurance won’t cover plastic surgery, and I don’t have the money. It doesn’t bother me at the studio, so what’s the point? Is the accident why your boyfriend sent the bodyguard?”
“Part of it,” Sarah admitted. “The crash was caused by a stalking paparazzo of sorts, but I think the constant surveillance is a result of me being abducted in January. The combination of the two really sent Jon over the edge. He’s super protective of me.”
“You don’t seem traumatized at all by what happened to you. Why aren’t you traumatized? I would never leave the house again.”
; “I was in a coma for the first one, and for the second I was drugged up and shoved into the trunk of a car. I don’t remember either of them. I try not to think about them because I can’t change what happened, so what’s the point? It really wrecked Jon, though. It would kill him if anything ever happened to me.”
“Sounds like your attitude is healthier than his and he needs to take a chill pill. He never lets you out of his sight, does he?” Cami pointed across the restaurant to a table, where Craig sat.
Sarah grunted when she saw him. “Damn it. How did he find me?”
“My guess is that the LoJack is on your phone, not your car. I think you need to have a talk with your famous boyfriend and tell him you want some freedom.”
“I think you’re right. Do you mind if we go?”
***
By the time Sarah got home, she was seething. “Jon!” she called as she entered the house. “We need to talk.”
Jon plopped down on the couch. “OK. Let’s talk.”
Sarah stood in front of him with her arms crossed. “You put LoJack on my phone.”
“Technically it’s not LoJack. It’s just a stalker app.”
“You admit it?”
“Yes, I admit it. It’s for security. It’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s on my phone, too.”
“But you had Craig follow me after you agreed you wouldn’t.”
“I never agreed he wouldn’t. I just told you to take your phone.” He held his ground as he stared back at her. “Don’t you get it? There are crazy people everywhere. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”
“Great. So you’ll be able to find my dead carcass as long as the crazy doesn’t throw my phone in the trash.”
“Why would you say something like that? Now I have that visual in my head. That is never going to happen, Sarah, because you aren’t going anywhere without a bodyguard ever again.”
He practically yelled the last sentence, and it made Sarah want to walk out of the room, but the tormented look on Jon’s face stopped her.
“I’m not trying to hurt you.” She collapsed on the couch next to him, and he turned to face her.
Between the Lies (Between the Raindrops #2) Page 12
